November 12, 2023

Pentecost 24

Lectionary 32

Epiphany, Winnipeg

I Thessalonians 4:13-18

Matthew 25:1-13

I’ll start by piling up some sad images or depressing realities, call them what you will. The word these last few weeks is that incidents of anti-Semitism are on the rise all over the place, even in nice places like my own neighbourhood where a swastika was sprayed on the walls of a pedestrian walkway under Fermor. And we’ve heard of synagogues in the city experiencing threats and vandalism, and Jewish parents being afraid for their kids as they go off to school. While we watch a war overseas and have our own thoughts about all that and maybe feel like we need to choose one side or the other, real people, our neighbours, are afraid.

There have also been stories of Palestinian Canadians living in fear, and anti-Islamic incidents are on the rise as well. There are also Muslim parents who worry about their kids as they head off to school in the morning. While we watch a war overseas and have our own thoughts about all that and maybe feel like we need to choose one side or the other, real people, our neighbours, are afraid.

I don’t know if this is part of the sermon or just something we need to keep in mind, but I know from my own inner struggles and my own habits of doomscrolling through the news that I and any of us can be so tempted to choose sides and pick a team in a far away war, like it’s a CFL semi-final. But just remember that in our own neighbourhoods there are people who are just plain scared and who are wondering whether they actually are welcome here. And our call in the face of fear is always to respond with love and grace and welcome.

And we’re called to respond with justice and righteousness, like we heard from the prophet Amos a few minutes ago: “Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” And sometimes justice and righteousness just means something as simple and complicated as healed relationships, or relationships made right again. That is God’s plan and hope and will for the world: that relationships be made right, that life be full for everyone, that the good gift of life and peace flow all over for all the people and for all the earth.”

But we’re still waiting. That all seems to be put on hold sometimes.

Step forward now to that story Jesus just told in Matthew. It’s a wedding feast that starts late; too late for some. Ten bridesmaids go to meet the groom, and five of them have extra oil for their lamps while five have just enough to tide them over til the groom arrives and the doors open. In a wonderful reversal of stereotypes the groom is late, and by midnight he still hasn’t shown up and the ones who brought just enough oil find that their lamps have run out and they’re left in the dark. The other five have oil to spare but they won’t share. They just tell the ones who have run out, “Go out and buy some yourself.” At least two people I talked with about this story this week asked the simple question, “Why don’t the ones who have enough oil share it? Or why don’t they all huddle together so there will be enough light for everyone?” Is Jesus really telling a story where the point is that you have to have enough for yourself and if someone else doesn’t have enough that’s their own problem?

So the other five go off to buy oil, and while they’re gone – because everyone else hoarded their oil - the groom arrives, the five with enough enter the party, and the door is closed on the other five while they are out shopping. Is Jesus really telling a story where the point is that the ones who have enough already are the ones who get to join the party, and the ones who have nothing are left out? And that’s the way it should be?

Then, finally, the five come back and knock on the door, and the groom opens up a little, peers through the crack, and says “I don’t know who you are,” and shuts the door.

When we really hear the little details, the story doesn’t really sound much like what Jesus seemed to be all about, does it? This is Jesus, who said “Don’t worry about having enough of everything, because your God gives you all that you need.” (Even lamp oil) This is Jesus who spent his day with people who maybe didn’t have enough food or shelter or safety or love or friendship or health…and he let them all in on the life that he gives. If the ones with enough oil are the winners and the ones who run out of oil are the losers…well, Jesus always seemed more interested in the ones who have lost it all, didn’t he?

If anything, this story just sounds an awful lot like the world as we know it. You know, the world where the ones who have enough get to join the party and the ones who don’t are just kind of left outside to fend for themselves? You know, the world where it’s OK not to share with the ones who’ve lost it all, because it was probably their fault anyway?

Maybe Jesus isn’t telling a story with a religious teaching or a moral lesson. He’s just telling something about how the world is and he’s telling his disciples and telling us to keep awake and see that that’s what’s going on. The ones with enough get to join in, and the ones without are quietly locked outside. It’s not such a good news story. Sometimes we have to wait for the good news to take shape.

Right in the middle of the story is a small little something that we miss, and so often those little somethings are the most important thing. This week it sounds like this: “As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them nodded off and fell asleep.” As the bridegroom was delayed….

What Jesus is doing in the parable is telling us to be ready for a delay. The story talks about the bridegroom coming…soon. But not yet. We hear about the promise of God for peace to break out all over, even in Israel and Gaza and Yemen and Ukraine and Sudan and how many other places. We heard Amos talk about God’s call for justice and righteousness to pour out on the world like a river, and we can hear a promise that there will be justice, that things will be made right, for people who have no homes or who can’t afford food. Somewhere in our hearts we’ve absorbed the message that the risen Jesus will make broken relationships and broken hearts well again, and we know that there’s something true about this one who heals the blind, and opens deaf ears, and who is risen from the dead so that all will be raised. We’ve heard of a day when there will be no more crying or tears or pain.

But there seems to have been a delay, and we’re called to be prepared for a delay. Because that’s where we live – in a delay.

In these next three weeks, the last three weeks of the church year, one of the themes that weaves through our worship and our readings is this trust that we’ve had through the whole history of the church that Jesus is coming back. I don’t know what that looks like, nobody does even if they say that they re sure that they do. But the promise is that when Jesus comes back there will be life that is poured out like a river and there will be justice and relationships will be made right again young ones won’t be sent off to kill people they might otherwise call friends, and parents won’t be afraid as they watch their kids walk off to school, and we will love with a love that casts out fear. we wait for peace.

And while we live in the delay? We try to make things right where relationships have gone wrong. We share our lamp oil with those who have no oil, we open the door to those who just want to be a part of what’s going on rather than shutting them out in the night. We wait for the healing of communities and do what we can to work that healing, even when we live in this delay.

And through all these days, we travel along with good news that we’ve heard right from the start, the simple news that we hear again and again, Sunday after Sunday: Christ is risen – Christ is risen indeed! And we travel with news that we’ll say together in a few minutes as we get ready for a meal, say it with me if you can: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. This news carries us through the waiting and the delays. It’s like oil in the lamp that gives light and keeps us awake, it’s like oil that we share that gives light to our neighbours, it’s like water that keeps on refreshing, or wine that keeps gladdening the heart like the psalm says, or bread that sustains us through days of sorrow and days of joy….like love that sustains us through the delay and into that new day to come.