Oil

A sermon for Sunday, November 8, 2020, based on Matthew 25:1-13.

Would you pray with me?

God of the foolish and God of the wise, God of the exhausted and God of the energetic, God of the ready and God of the wary, thank you for bringing each of us and all of us to this time and this place. By your Spirit make your presence known here today. And may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to you, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.

You know, one of the themes we’ve talked about over the past year and a half is interpretation of scripture, specifically about differing interpretations of scripture. We’ve talked through Lazarus and the Rich Man, the story of Legion and the herd of pigs running into the sea. We’ve dug into the rich earth of scripture to see what new wisdom is growing there. We’ve looked at verses forward, backward, and sideways, in Greek and in Hebrew, in an abundance of English translations. We’ve seen scripture read, acted, sung, retold. I have been very thankful to see my love of scripture mirrored in your questions and in your thoughts. It is pure joy, my family in Christ, to see how each of us holds scripture and examines it, like a gem catching the light.

And so, because of this work, I know that we’re ready to take on our parable this morning, the parable of the ten bridesmaids, despite the fact that it’s one of the trickiest in Matthew. I have confidence that we’ll be able to hold this gem up to the light and that, if you disagree with my interpretation this morning, that you’ll be able to turn the parable on your own and look at it anew. I trust that God is with us whenever we turn to scripture, whether it’s together on Sunday morning or on your own at home throughout the week.

Let me start off by giving you some big-picture context, because that will help us not only with this parable, but with the parable next week and the week after. This parable is one of the last three Jesus tells in the gospel of Matthew. He’s been teaching in the Temple after riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, speaking to the crowd and answering questions from the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Herodians, but now he’s turned to his disciples and close followers, teaching them about the world as it is now and the world that is to come. The words we’re reading this morning are part of the teachings that Jesus wanted to leave his disciples with and it’s important to keep that in mind. Jesus is preparing them for both certainty and uncertainty ahead. No one knows the hour and the day of the return of the Son of Man, but we do know for certain that that day will come.

In many ways, this is a “so what?” teaching. In this teaching, Jesus names something about the world and about the situation the disciples find themselves in and follows it up by asking and answering the question, “So what?” The coming of the Son of Man will be delayed, Jesus says. You’ll have to wait for it. So what do we do? We keep our lamps trimmed and burning, as the old song says.

That’s the core teaching of this parable, the straightforward message that Jesus really wants to hammer home. You don’t know when the kingdom of heaven will arrive. You have to be ready for it every day. Each of these three parables, really, tell us this core message, the same one that Jesus has been teaching for at least half a chapter before these parables: You don’t know when Jesus is coming back. You don’t know when the world will change. So you have to be ready, living your life as if Jesus is coming back today. You have to spend every day preparing yourself to live in the new world that Jesus will make.

So let’s look at our bridesmaids in today’s story. The first thing to figure out is what in the world they’re doing. I don’t know about you, but carrying around a lamp and waiting for the groom to arrive hasn’t been a part of any wedding I’ve been to recently. But in Jesus’ day, weddings were almost always evening affairs, held at the bride’s family house, and the bridesmaids would be part of the wedding party that would lead the procession in for the wedding feast, using their lamps. So it’s totally usual for them to be out there, waiting in the evening. They might have been fine, actually, with just the oil that was in their lamps, because it surely wasn’t that long of a procession.

But the bridegroom is delayed. They were prepared to wait for a little bit and probably kept their lamps burning as the night settled in, expecting the groom any moment now. But the groom is so late that all the bridesmaids fall asleep, letting their lamps burn out as they wait. All the bridesmaids are in the same boat, napping as they wait, until they get word that the bridegroom is in sight. Then they jump to action.

There’s a problem, though. Some of the bridesmaids brought extra oil for their lamps, but some didn’t. After having to wait half the night for the groom, half of the procession is now out of oil. And that’s the dilemma. If the bridesmaids with oil share, they won’t have enough. The procession will go dark halfway through. They’ve got a duty to fulfill and if they share, they’ll can’t do it. It’s like if you and a friend are driving somewhere, but your friend runs out of gas and you’ve only got a quarter of a tank. If you were to share your gas, neither of you would make it to the gas station. You’d both be stuck.

Now, we can think of a million different solutions to this problem. Send someone sprinting to the house to fetch more oil. Have the bridesmaids pair up, two to a lamp. Tell the bridegroom to hold his horses; after all, it’s his fault that they’re out of oil in the first place. We can think of plenty of ways to manage this situation. But that’s not what happens in the parable. The bridesmaids who didn’t bring extra oil are told to hurry and go out into town to buy some more.

Well, the merchants are all likely closed at this time of night. They didn’t have 24-hour Wal-Marts in ancient Palestine. You can imagine them running through town, trying to get someone to sell them oil before the bridegroom arrives. The bridesmaids probably all return emptyhanded to the bride’s house to find that the procession has already happened and the wedding banquet is underway. And out there, in the dark, the bridegroom doesn’t recognize them. At this late, late hour, they’re not letting anyone in. The bridesmaids who didn’t bring oil are turned away.

Now, again, Jesus is using this parable to make a point. It’s a cautionary tale, meant to emphasize a point. You have to be ready. You have to always be ready, because you never know when the world is about to change. Do whatever you have to, bring extra oil, prepare however you have to, but be ready. Jesus is urgent because he knows that he’s about to die and he knows that it will be a long three days before anything like hope arrives again, and a longer time still before the reign of God comes upon the earth. This is what he leaves his disciples with: Be ready. Be ready. Be ready.

So what does it look like for us to be ready, like the wise bridesmaids? We have to pack extra oil. And what does the oil represent in this parable? Well, it could represent plenty of things, really, but I want to argue that for us, here today, the oil that we need to have extra of, the oil that we need to make sure we have ready, is the oil of grace.

Grace is the Holy Spirit’s work within us and as we know, it’s a gift. It’s not anything that we can earn. But, as Christians striving to be more like Jesus, we have regular ways that we’re used to receiving that grace. John Wesley calls them means of grace, reliable ways that we can receive grace, reliable ways that we open ourselves up to the working of the Holy Spirit. For Wesley, there are many means of grace: spending time in prayer, getting into scripture, gathering for worship and fellowship, sharing our stories, taking care of our bodies, sharing communion, feeding those who are hungry, visiting the sick and those in prison, and providing for the needs of others. God can give grace however, whenever, and to whoever God chooses, but we, as people who long for and search after God, brought into new covenant with God through the saving grace of Christ Jesus, we can reliably open ourselves up to God through these means of grace. We can keep our lamps filled and ready, with extra oil besides, by practicing these means of grace.

Now, maybe you have a favorite means of grace in that list, or maybe yours wasn’t on that list. Maybe hikes or making music and art or gardening or playing with a pet or cooking and baking or repairing things or playing and watching a sport is a means of grace for you. We’re all unique people and we all open ourselves up to God in different ways. Our tasks, in these days and in all days, is to seek God and open ourselves up to God through these means of grace so that whenever we stand amazed in the presence of Jesus the bridegroom, our lamps will be burning with the abundant oil of grace. This is the work of our lives as Christians.

But, unlike the fictional bridesmaids in the story, who all have the exact same lamps that take the exact same oil, we have different shaped lamps that require different oil. And that’s a good and joyful thing, always. God made us unique because God delights in our uniqueness. We should never lose sight of that truth, nor let anyone take it from us. God delights in us, just as we are. And the beauty of the church, too, is that it is a refuge for all of us, no matter our lamps. The means of grace are many and the Church, the entire body of Christ, can provide oil for many different lamps. Our job as faithful Christians is to tend our lamps and the Church, at its best, helps us do that.

We are two Sundays away from the first Sunday in Advent, and, like the Easter and Pentecost seasons before it, this will be an Advent like no other any of us have experienced. But I want us to focus, in these last seven weeks together this year, on how we’re filling up our lamps. What means of grace open each of us up? What movement of the Spirit has God made each of us for? Because the answer to those questions determines what we do next, after there’s a vaccine, after church can start to look something like normal again, after this face is filled with familiar faces once more. What is it that lights up Wesleyanna/Whittier UMC? What oil do we need to fill our lamps?

Because once we know that, we’ll be unstoppable. Once our lamps are full, we will shine with brightness like the dawn, and we will spread the light of Jesus throughout this world that so sorely needs it. Once our lamps are full, with extra oil besides, there won’t be any storm we can’t weather. Once our lamps are full, God’s glory will shine among us and anyone who sees it will turn to see our light. It will be a beautiful day.

And I can’t wait to see it.

Amen.

Before we get into joys and concerns, I want to offer one other word. There’s a category missing from the means of grace I listed before. For Wesley and for many others in Methodism, they’ve found means of grace, reliable ways of receiving grace, in communal works of mercy, what we might call social justice. For Wesley and for many others in Methodism, they received grace by opening themselves up to the work of ending oppression and discrimination and addressing the needs of the poor and the disproportionately impacted populations, the least of these. These communal works of mercy, this work that calls us to rethink how we live our lives together and challenges us to find better ways to love each other as a society, is difficult and sometimes controversial work, but friends, this is the oil that fills my lamp. This is the means of grace through which I reliably open myself up to the work of the Spirit. God has called me to this justice work. God has shaped me for it, just as God has shaped you for your work and your means of grace.

I will truly treasure my time here, in these mountains that are home to me, among you good people who have taught me so much, but God has shown me, no matter how much I didn’t want to see it, that I can’t do the work that God is calling me to while serving here. This church is shaped differently than I am and no matter how much I might try, I can’t keep my lamp burning with the same oil that y’all need. It’s time for me to go where I can do the justice work that fills my lamp.

In consultation with the SPRC and our DS, it’s been decided that at the end of this year, I’ll be moving back closer to Washington, DC, to begin working with nation-wide faith-based organizations focused on advocating for the poor. For as much as it hurts to leave, I can’t help but be hopeful for the work ahead of me. I have spent so many years wrestling with God, and it feels like he’s finally let me go and given me my own name. It’s a painful fight, but it’s a blessing all the same.

But rest assured, Linda, our DS, the church council, and I are not going to leave you bereft. I plan to spend the next two months helping to lay out a ministry plan for the church, so that as we come out of COVID and are able to pick activities back up again, we’ll have options for how to move forward and look for the ways that God is calling this church to shine in this community. No matter who the next pastor is, I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure that they’ll be able to continue the good work that is happening here. And above all else, we’ll be praying, because we know that our prayers are powerful. God is going to move among us. I can feel it.