Matthew 25:1-13 "Lessons from Lamps"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly!

         This is the text of a note that was once found hanging on a church door:


Absolute knowledge I have none,


But my aunt's washer woman's sister's son


Heard a policeman on his beat


Say to a laborer on the street


That he had a letter just last week


Written in finest classical Greek,


From a Chinese coolie in Timbuktu


Who said the Negroes in Cuba knew of a man in a Texas town


Who got it straight from a circus clown,


That a man in the Klondike heard the news


From a gang of South American Jews,


About somebody in Borneo


Who heard a man claim to know of a well--digger named Jake,


Whose mother--in--law will undertake to prove


That her seventh husband's sister's niece


Had stated in a printed piece


That she had a son who has a friend


Who knows when the world is going to end.


         When the world was going to end:  That was of great importance, you know, to the congregation of Christian Jews for whom the Gospel of Matthew was originally written, which, most Biblical scholars agree, was about 80-90 years after Jesus departed from this world. At the time of Jesus’ ascension, of course, hope for his glorious return and a final judgment on all humanity ran high.  However, it was not long before a generation that had expected Jesus to return within its lifetime had come and gone, and nothing had happened.  Life went on.

         Now, even more years later when our Gospel was written, the Messiah’s still delayed return was frustrating at best and was most certainly causing some of those folks who had been baptized in a pique of religious fervor to shake their heads and mumble that they had never really believed it all to begin with as they moved on to the next spiritual fad. 

         But for those Jewish Christians who chose to remain faithful, this writer of the Gospel of Matthew wanted to face head on this unfortunate delay and did so by including stories and teachings and many references to the last days and the awaited hour of judgment.  And so today we find ourselves confronting the first of three allegorical parables found in the final chapters of the Gospel of Matthew.  We commonly refer to this story as the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Bridesmaids, Maidens, or Virgins – depending on the Biblical translation you use.

         In the style of the Wedding Feast at Cana, this story is another tale of nuptials gone wrong.  This time the problem has to do with the delayed arrival of the groom and how a handful of the bridal attendants were subsequently left unprepared and wanting.

         Now weddings back in ancient Palestine were not unlike today’s destination weddings with their elaborate settings and extended celebrations.  In our story, the festivities are just beginning, and the evening wedding banquet is set to commence. 

         It is dark.  The hour has come.  The guests have arrived and have filled the groom’s home.  They are pouring out into the streets to await the arrival of the wedding couple.  The wedding planner has instructed the bridesmaids, and all ten of them are in position, their oil lamps already lighting the path of the bride and groom on their way to wedded bliss. 

         However, there is a problem.  You see, the bridegroom is taking his own sweet time.  As Anglican priest Jeffrey Smead describes the scene:  “The groom and several close friends are making their way to the home of the bride, which is assumed to be across town or in a nearby village. From there the groom collects his bride and escorts her back to his family home, where the crowd awaits and the marriage feast will be held.

         When the bride was ready, she would be placed on the back of a riding animal, and the groom, with his friends, would form a disorganized, exuberant parade. This happy group would take the longest possible route back to the groom’s home. (We find them) deliberately wandering through as many streets of the village as possible so that most of the people could see and cheer them as they pass.”

         Not much fun for those who wait.  The caterer is pulling out his hair because the iced champagne is getting warm, and the hot hors d’oeuvres are getting cold.  The wedding planner is nervous too because it is late, and it is dark, and the bridesmaids – all ten of them – are getting sleepy, and soon they are gently snoring in a friendly heap in the corner. However, at this point, it should be noted that, even though asleep, thank goodness, they are not unprepared.  They are doing their job.  Their lamps are lit – all ten of them.  But unfortunately, as the hours pass, those lamps begin to flicker and extinguish themselves one by one. 

         In the meantime, the groom’s parade continues to slowly wind its way through the village until, as Jeffery Smead picks up the story, “Finally the front of the parade enters the alley, and the cry goes out, ‘Behold the bridegroom. Come out to meet him.’

         Guests and the family still in the house rush into the street.  The ten young women arise quickly, recognize that some time has passed and begin to ‘service their lamps.’ The loose unattached wicks must be adjusted, and the oil reserves inside the lamps replenished.

         To their horror, five of the women suddenly realize their lamps are almost out of olive oil and they have no reserves.  The other five take out their little clay flasks and calmly replenish their lamps.  The five foolish women crowd around them, demanding oil.

         Politely and no doubt firmly, they are in effect told, "We do not have enough for you and ourselves.  Go to the dealers and buy more!" No doubt irritated and sputtering, the five stomp off to beg, borrow, or buy a bit of oil.

         In the meantime, the groom and his new bride arrive and the entire crowd sweeps into the house, and the door is shut.  In the final scene the shortsighted crowd of five women finally acquire some oil, get their lamps working again and arrive back at the house.

         "Sir!  Lord! Open to us!" they shout through the door, but the groom replies (ominously), "I do not know you."

         And that’s that!  That is the story – except for Jesus’ equally ominous remark:  “Watch out, then, because you do not know the day or the hour.”

         Sure does not sound as if the five bridesmaids who were not expecting the groom to be so darn late got into the banquet.  Sure sounds like the Gospel writer has made a judgment call here.  Sure makes us feel a tad uncomfortable because, after all, no one likes a door slammed in his or her face.

         No doubt about it:  this parable is a hard sell, not a challenge we want to confront.  It is a story we would just as soon skip over.  After all, face it.  We like our Jesus easy.         

         Oh, people have tried to soften the story up a bit.   UCC pastor Mary Ann Biggs relates this little vignette:  “Back in the days when only young men prepared for pastoral ministry, a certain Dr. Eislen, president of Garrett Seminary, preached on this parable in chapel.  He wrapped up his sermon by yelling at his seminarians, "Young men, tell me, would you rather be in the light with the wise virgins, or out in the dark with the foolish virgins?" Such laughter arose that chapel was dismissed early that day!” 

         Seriously though, this parable seems to have really very little to do with us.  After all, we are certainly not in the same frenzy about Jesus’ immanent return as the first century Christians for whom this Gospel of Matthew was written.  About the only people who think anything like that might happen in our lifetimes are the ones who pronounce it up on highway billboards in the Bible Belt or who stand proclaiming the end of the world on urban street corners – both of whom we tacitly ignore. 

         So – what can this archaic but certainly weirdly challenging parable with its theme of judgment, being prepared, keeping the lights on, and holding out hope for the bridegroom’s arrival, what can this parable say to us who live in a world where often it seems as if darkness prevails, in a world where we have given up hope not only of the Messiah’s return (that is not even on the radar screen) but have also thrust aside hope in God and religion and the church as well?

         I think this parable has three things to say to us in that regard. 

         First, at the very least, it reminds us to bring our lamps.  Just show up.  After all, every single bridesmaid in the parable had her lamp with her and the oil necessary to get it started. They all knew what their job was, and they all had every intention of doing it impeccably well. After all, they had been given a responsibility, which they clearly valued because they had accepted that responsibility. 

         For us, then, remember that you cannot be part of the wedding festivities if you are not at least that much prepared.  So - bring your lamp.  Don’t be afraid to just show up.  It is like the story Methodist pastor William Strayhorn told about Erma Bombeck’s conversation with a little boy about to begin school:

         My name is Donald, and I don't know anything. I have new underwear, a loose tooth, and didn't sleep last night because I'm worried. What if a bell rings and a man yells, "Where do you belong?" and I don't know? What if the trays in the cafeteria are too tall for me to reach? What if my loose tooth comes out when we have our heads down and are supposed to be quiet? Am I supposed to bleed quietly? What if I splash water on my name tag and my name disappears and no one knows who I am?"

         Life is like that sometimes (Strayhorn admits). Who am I kidding Life is like that most of the time. Most of the time (he says) we're scared spitless of what the future will bring.”  But we are challenged anyway to bring our lamps and just show up.

         So - if you are part of this faith community, then bring your lamp and show up on Sundays as a start because that is your responsibility.  If you are part of this faith community, share your time and your talents because that is your responsibility as well.  And if you are part of this faith community, return a pledge card and openly support this church’s ministries.  Pledge something if you have not pledged before, and, if you have pledged, then pledge a contribution that is your fair share of this church’s expenses – because that, too, is your responsibility.         

         Second, this parable reminds us that there are some things that you cannot borrow.  The foolish bridesmaids tried to borrow oil, but they could not.  Twentieth century Scottish theologian, William Barclay, puts it this way:  “This text warns us that there are certain things which cannot be borrowed.  The foolish virgins found it impossible to borrow oil, when they discovered they needed it.  A (person) cannot borrow a relationship with God; he must possess it.  A (person) cannot borrow a character; he must be clothed with it.  We cannot always be living on the spiritual capital, which others have amassed.  There are certain things, which we must win or possess for ourselves, for we cannot borrow them from others.”  You cannot borrow a sense of justice.  You cannot borrow the qualities of a peacemaker.  You cannot borrow compassion.

         Third, the parable reminds us to embrace a certain kind of waiting. It is true that the bridesmaids and the guests were all waiting for the bride and groom, and it is also true that all their fastidious preparations seemed to be for naught.  Where was the wedding couple anyway?

         For us, as Lutheran pastor David Lose writes, “the kind of waiting Matthew is encouraging through this parable is hard. Waiting for something way over due, waiting for something you’re not sure will even come, waiting that involves active preparation when you’re not even sure what you should be preparing for. That kind of waiting is challenging.”

         How do you wait for a Kingdom that seems so unlikely in today’s world?  How do you wait for a Kingdom that values peace over armed conflict, compassion over our inability to control the guns too many of us own, abundance over scarcity, and sharing what we have even if it hurts a little?  How do you wait for a Kingdom that values hope over fear?

         How?  The answer is simple – not easy, but simple.  The answer is this:  We live into that Kingdom.  We live as if that Kingdom has already arrived.  We live out our faith in a broken and troubled world, and, in doing so, we cannot help but end up practicing what it is like to live in the Kingdom, to live as if Jesus really has returned.  

         Perhaps the worst mistake we can make is to forget that the kingdom is real now, that there is One coming, not at a single time in some distant and unknown future, but there is One coming at every moment, at every moment that we seek justice, that we go out on a limb for peace, that we share generously what we have.  There is One coming at every moment who is prepared – if we are prepared - to open the doors to our flickering faith and celebrate the mystery and the miracle of life – and, most of all, to celebrate the kingdom that lies deep in the hearts of all of us – even now, even in this dark and broken world.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church (U.C.C.), Raymond, Maine