12 November 2023 Pentecost 24

Today’s parable is one which has many twists and turns and some of those twists and turns are very uncomfortable.  I have always wondered why the 10 bridesmaids did not share their oil from the start, or at least do so when it became obvious that the bridegroom was going to be delayed.  Or maybe they could have extinguished some of the lamps so they would still have light to see where they were sitting; and then they would conserve their oil because, quite frankly, even those called ‘wise’ did not really know how long they would be waiting and therefore even their oil supply may not last.  And then when the call came that the bridegroom was coming, because they had extinguished some of the lamps there would probably have been enough oil for all the lamps to last till they were in the party.  But maybe that is just a 21st century solution to a 1st century problem I don’t fully understand. 

This scenario is not familiar to us; why do the bridesmaids wait for the arrival of the bridegroom.  What happened to ‘best men and groomsmen’ or are they a ‘modern invention’.  And where is the bride in this story, she does not even rate a mention.  But this story speaks loudly about ‘waiting’.  The Thessalonians were desperately waiting for the promised second coming and fearful they had already missed out on Jesus’ return and given that this letter from Paul was written around 51AD, it is 30 years before Matthew is writing for his community and trying to inspire them.  And at differing levels, we are also waiting.  But how are we waiting?  It is more than 2000 years since Jesus left his community and promised to return.  So what does waiting look like for us after 2000+ years.  How much thought do we even give to the idea of waiting for the second coming.  To be honest, I am not expecting the second coming in my lifetime, and I suspect a lot of people I might ask would admit the same, so maybe the only people who are really ‘expectantly’ or ‘anxiously’ waiting are those who predict it on billboards. 

But when you examine this parable, making fun of five bridesmaids, and praising the other five seems a little unfair.  All of them brought oil.  All of them waited.  All of them fell asleep.  So the decision about who gets to go to the party comes down to who anticipated that the bridegroom would arrive very late and thought to bring more oil.  Because if the bridegroom was not delayed, none of that would have mattered because all 10 of them would have met him, lamps blazing, and all 10 of them would have entered through the doors into the party.  But because we do not understand this scenario, because it is so unfamiliar to us, maybe the late arrival of bridegrooms is ‘normal’, or at least not ‘unexpected’ so the bridesmaids should have expected the delay and come prepared for it.  But Matthew’s focus in this appears to be on the waiting, and the waiting he is encouraging through this parable is hard, very hard. 

Think about it, how easily do you wait for something you are not sure will even eventuate.  How well do you prepare for something when you are not entirely sure what it is you are preparing for.  That kind of waiting is challenging.  But we would have to admit that waiting is not something that is unfamiliar to us.  We all remember will waiting for ‘that special time’; waiting for that ‘important phone call’; and we would probably also admit that waiting is not only hard, it also often causes anxiety.  Whether what we are waiting for is good or bad, living in the ‘in-between time’ is probably the hardest.   And when Jesus told this parable, he was going through his own ‘in-between’ time, the anxious time between his triumphal ride into Jerusalem and his trial and crucifixion.  And all the Evangelists, including Matthew, agree that Jesus knew what was going to happen.  So, in his own ‘in-between’ time, Jesus is teaching the crowd, instructing his disciples, while he waits for the cross.  Jesus knows how hard waiting can be and is with us in our waiting. 

But if we look at the situation from a different angle, maybe what we see is not so much a failure to adequately prepare for the possibility of waiting, but a failure to trust our own resources.  When we are faced with a difficult situation, how often do I start to fear my own insufficiency.  Might I be tempted to react with fear and run away.  Might my fear response be to leave my post, run into the darkness and run to another source to keep my light glowing that little bit longer.  What might have been the response from the bridegroom if those five whose lamps were going out didn’t run to the store but stayed and greeted the bridegroom by the light of the other lamps.  Could it be that waiting in the darkness, even if my light has gone out is a more faithful way to stay engaged with the role given me by my master.  Do I need my lamp to be burning; can I trust that the bridegroom will still accept my greeting and let me join in the party even if my lamp has gone out.   

When the first five left, the procession was negatively impacted – five fewer voices to cry out with joy at the bridegroom’s arrival, five fewer friends dancing and singing into the night in honour of the groom and his bride.  The loss is communal, extensive, and real.  So maybe one of the lessons in the parable is ‘don’t let your fear or your sense of inadequacy keep you from the party’, be willing to ‘show up’ just as you are, complicated, dishevelled, half-lit and half-baked.  The groom delights in you, not your lamp.  Your half-empty flask of oil is not the point – you are, so stay. 

But a fear of insufficiency is also seen in the five who were called wise.  They didn’t trust that their oil would be sufficient if they allowed the others to have some of their extra supply.  Self-righteous in their preparedness and ‘wisdom’, they forget all about mercy, empathy, kinship and hospitality.  They forget that the wedding is a celebration.  Gathering.  Joining.  Sharing.  And their lack of sharing diminishes the wedding, it deprived the bridal couple and the remaining guests of five lively, caring companions. 

When we look at our own lives, assumptions about scarcity run rampant though them.  We are afraid of emptiness, so we celebrate excess.  We are so worried about opening our doors wide, that we shut them tight.  We become so obsessed about our own rightness before God that we forget that ‘rightness’ separated from love is always wrong.  And we fear there will not be enough to spare.  Enough grace.  Enough freedom.  Enough forgiveness.  Enough mercy.  What would it be like to care more about our neighbour’s empty flask than the brimming fullness of our own. 

This parable asks more questions than it provides answers.  So lets keep asking the questions.  Which ones speak to you.  Where might you see yourself in this parable, and where do you see Jesus, looking at you.  Find yourself, and find Jesus.  Start talking.  The doors are open and the wedding hall is full of holy light.  This is the place to begin.