All lit up with places to go

After all the lead-up and apprehension, a whole lot of voters went to the polls and cast their ballots. The country has yet again been sorted into two camps: red and blue. But the call to move past that dividing is becoming louder, it seems. So much of the speechifying before and after the election has seemed to ask over and over again, who are we, and who do we want to be? How can we go forward together? Because most of us are sick of the animosity and negativity, and are ready for something different.

So I have to say, it doesn’t much help that the parable from Jesus today tells a story with two equal and opposing groups: five wise and five foolish bridesmaids. They were all waiting for a long time; but at the end, only one of those groups gets to go in to the wedding banquet. The other group is shut out, their knocking ignored, the bridegroom saying, I don’t even know you. This is not a parable that lends itself to finding unity in a fractured time.

But I found myself wondering just what the words were that are translated ‘wise’ and ‘foolish.’ So I went to the Greek, like we preachers are always supposed to do. The word translated ‘wise’ is phronimos – a word that connotes being sensible, wise in a practical way, savvy. Having smarts both of the head and the gut. It’s the same word used to describe the wise man who builds his house on the rock rather than on the sand (Matt. 7:24); it’s the word Jesus uses when he tells his followers to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves (Matt. 10:16). These are the people who plan ahead, knowing by hunch or by experience that bridegrooms can sometimes be delayed, and you’d better have enough oil to have your lamp ready when he comes. These are the people who probably brought snacks too. Perhaps these bridesmaids are moms.

The word translated ‘foolish,’ on the other hand, is moros – the word that gives us our English word ‘morons.’ This word connotes being dull, stupid, brainless airheads. This is the foolish man who builds his house on sand (Matt. 7:26). It’s not a nice thing to call someone, and Jesus actually warns us not to – he says that if we call each other this word we are ‘liable to the hell of fire’ (Matt. 5:22). These foolish moron bridesmaids don’t bring enough oil for their lamps, because apparently, they just never thought of it. They didn’t plan ahead. So when their lamps run low, they’ve got a problem. And the door to the banquet is shut to them.

Clear enough. Though there’s one small wrinkle to all that: moros is also the word applied in another parable to the rich man who stores up all his abundant harvest for himself, giving none to others – the one who says, oh, whatever shall I do with all this stuff I have? I know, I’ll build bigger barns to keep it all for myself (Luke 12:20). God calls him a moron too, and that night he dies. So to sum up: the foolish bridesmaids didn’t store up enough oil for themselves but their wise friends won’t share with them; the foolish rich man stores everything up for himself alone and won’t share with anyone. Hmm. There’s more than one way to be a moron.

As in many of Jesus’ parables, this one has been interpreted differently by people of different perspectives. Just what is the oil that keeps our lamps burning? Why, it must be faith, say some. If we don’t have enough faith, we won’t be ready for Jesus when he comes. Our lamps will go out while we’re sleeping (or dead and awaiting resurrection, as the case may be). No, say others, it’s about good works. If we haven’t done enough good deeds in our lifetime, we won’t get in to the wedding banquet. Either way, the moral says, if we aren’t ready and so don’t get in, it’s our fault. We’ve been warned: ‘Keep awake – you know neither the day nor the hour.’

The problem is that either way, this thinking seems to line up with the kinds of people Jesus seems to criticize, the people looking for their own personal ticket to salvation, who cares about anyone else. People like the rich ruler who wants to know what boxes to check to get into heaven – who is very sad to hear he needs to give up all his possessions. People like the Pharisees who go around nagging other people for breaking rules – who can’t stand to see someone healed on the Sabbath. People like the legal scholar who wants a prioritized list of commandments to follow – who is nonplussed to hear it’s about loving God and neighbor. Over and over in his arguments with such people, Jesus says, you’ve got this all wrong. Being ready isn’t about hoarding our personal stockpile of goodness, doing everything right. Sell everything and follow me; show mercy, not judgment; love one another and put your trust in God. That’s how you get ready – by releasing our grip and practicing generosity with people and with God.

So what is that light that shines – or should shine – in our lamps? In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus tells us to ‘so let your light shine before others that they may see your good works and glorify [God] in heaven.’ Our light is to shine so that others can see – but not to see that we’re really righteous wonderful people. Our light comes from God, and shines for others. Our good works, our behaviors, our effect on others; our peacemaking, our loving concern, our thirst for righteousness, our perseverance, all the good things Jesus names in the Beatitudes; all of that comes from God, the source of all light and all good. We’re not the focus at all: as we live faithfully, people see God at work through us. No matter who we are. There’s a wonderful old spiritual that goes,

Let your little light shine, shine, shine – let your little light shine all night long. There may be someone down in the valley tryin’ to get home.

It may be me or it may be you, it may be your brother or your sister too,

There may be someone down in the valley tryin’ to get home.

This is the last week of our fall stewardship drive, the season where we spend extra time thinking and praying about our money, our abundance, our generosity. We’ve talked about generosity as a spiritual practice, like prayer or reading Scripture, a practice that slowly changes us to be more the kind of people God wants us to be. We’ve heard from fellow St Francis folks about why this particular place, this church, matters to them, and why they’re directing their generosity towards the church. And in one more week, we’ll bring our own pledge cards, filled out and ready, to lay on the altar here together. We’ll offer God our gifts out of the abundance that God gives to us. And we’ll give thanks for all the harvest we share. In the image of the parable, we’ll bring our lamps, filled with oil, and offer their light here at the wedding feast. And what we bring will be enough – whether we feel ready or not.

Because what the practice of generosity teaches us is that we do have enough. God gives us all the oil we need; God pours into our hearts and our lives what we need to live on, what we need to be happy, what we need to feel safe. And we’re ready when we are willing to share of that to light the way for others. To burn brightly here in this valley for all those who need a way to get home – to show what it looks like to be a community that comes together in good times and bad, whether we agree or disagree, because we together find God’s love in this place. That’s the wisdom Jesus points us to – not that we figure it all out ourselves, but that we trust God to do more than we can ask or imagine, and we share that good news all around us.

So in this week, and as we go into the months ahead, may God’s light shine, and may we be the lamps to show it. In each moment, may we be ready to share that light with all. Because there’s more than enough to light up the whole world. Amen.