Sermons

“The Wise and the Foolish”

Psalm 78:1-7; Matthew 25:1-13 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – November 9, 2014

Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that we might find life and love in the presence of your Living Word. We pray it in the name of Jesus, Amen.

Did you catch that lovely turn of phrase from the Psalm? If we’re going to have to talk about this parable today, let’s start with that phrase that calls it like it is. “I will open my mouth in a parable; I will utter dark sayings from of old,” the psalmist writes. Exactly. There is no claim here to understand the story that’s being passed down, exactly; just a conviction that the story is important. But it’s dark too, mysterious, shadowy, unclear. We’ll keep passing it down to our children, generation after generation, and maybe someday, someone will understand what it means.

That’s what parables are. They’re stories we don’t quite understand. We know they’re trying to make a point, but what that point is isn’t always clear. Parables can be tricky. For every parable of the Good Samaritan, there is one more like what we read today from Matthew 25. There are enough concrete details that we feel like it should be obvious, but the further in we go, the more we realize that there are only just enough details to make us think we should know what’s going on. Key questions are left unanswered. Sometimes the concrete details themselves are confusing because they don’t translate across the centuries well. And sometimes, the point that seems obvious is one that doesn’t feel like gospel, and so we struggle to find another possible meaning. Parables can be tricky. Dark sayings from of old, indeed!

Today’s parable is one of those especially problematic ones. The truth is that we just don’t like how it ends. And so we start asking questions. How did some of these maidens become wise and some foolish? How much oil did they use? Where were they, and how far away was the market where the oil sellers were? How dark was it? Why couldn’t they share? If we’re honest, we don’t have a very high opinion of the supposedly wise maidens. They are selfish, not at all like how we believe Jesus teaches us to be. Sharing oil is one thing, but how do you keep from sharing light? Couldn’t the less prepared maidens have just walked alongside the ones whose lamps were still burning steadily? How would that have hurt anything?

Perhaps this parable makes us defensive precisely because we all know that we’ve made a stupid mistake like this before. We’ve all had a moment when we’ve mis-calculated what was necessary to get the job done. We’ve all come to a place where we needed help, entirely because of our own failings, and had to throw ourselves upon the mercy of someone else. We’ve all messed up at some point or another. And we don’t like the idea of being cast into the darkness because of that.

So what do we do with this parable, this dark saying? Commentators have come at it from all sorts of angles. Perhaps the problem wasn’t the lack of oil but the napping. Say some of the waiting happened during the day, but since they were sleeping, the maidens weren’t alert enough to blow out their lamps to save oil. All ten of them fell asleep, after all, and the warning Jesus gave at the end was to “Keep awake!” not to “Be prepared.” But that doesn’t explain the ending.

Perhaps the point here is that we shouldn’t be so concerned with being properly prepared that it keeps us from being present. Did the maidens really need more oil? Their lamps were “going out,” not already completely dark. Presumably, things would have been more festive with more light, but what if the point is that they should have stayed put rather than running off to the market, even if it meant walking in the dark, because being with the bridegroom was more important? This is a more palatable interpretation for me, but it doesn’t match up well with the warning to “Keep awake!’ that Jesus tacks on the end.

Perhaps we need to just pull out the historical critical approach and admit that maybe this is more Matthew than Jesus. Matthew was writing to a community that had expected Jesus’ return within weeks of his resurrection. And this was almost fifty-some years later. Surely there had been people who had joined the movement in those exciting, early days, who just hadn’t had what it took to stick it out. They hadn’t come prepared for a long-term waiting period. Perhaps that’s the main point of these supposedly unwise bridesmaids, to let the community of people who were still patiently waiting know that those who had fallen away – who gave up, who had perhaps been calling them foolish for continuing to believe – were, in fact, the foolish ones. If we assume that this story comes more from the heart of Matthew trying to hold a community together, rather than directly from the mouth of Jesus, it starts to make a little more sense. But still, it’s there. And we have to deal with it. What’s more, we have to deal with its consequences.

One of the trickiest things about parables is not finding an interpretation that works for us, that is, that stays in line with our understanding of the gospel, but making sure that we’re not allowing the parable to be abused. And make no mistake, there are all sorts of damaging ways to interpret this parable. The Bible has been used as a weapon far more often than we like to admit. There are so many opportunities in this little story.

Want biblical back-up for forcing people to learn from their mistakes? This is the parable for you! Can you imagine this lack-of-preparation story in the hands of a hard-core Boy Scout troop leader? If you never wanted to help anyone ever again, or have to feel like you should help someone who’s suffering the consequences of a dumb decision, this parable could give you what you’re looking for.

Do you need a biblical justification for why you shouldn’t have to share? Look no further than Matthew 25, verse 9. If you’re afraid there won’t be enough for you and someone else, you apparently have no obligation to give them any. Given that the bridegroom had already been announced at that point, they weren’t going to need that much more oil, and yet, they wouldn’t share. So why should you?

And yet, let’s go back to Psalm 78 for a moment. Why are we uttering “dark sayings from of old”? What is the point of handing down these parables from one generation to the next? The psalmist’s hope is that their children’s children would “set their hope in God.” That doesn’t sound at all like what these twisted interpretations are leading to. Perhaps it’s time to think about true wisdom and foolishness. Another psalm (111:10) teaches us that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” This same sentiment is repeated in Proverbs 1:7, and followed up with a corollary: “fools despise wisdom and instruction.” If we want to be wise, if we want to approach scripture wisely, we need to recognize that our interpretations must be grounded in humility. Disciples are very attached to our historical value of “interpreting scripture for ourselves.” But we must give that phrase a deeper meaning. We must make clear that interpreting scripture for ourselves means applying it to ourselves, using it for our own edification, rather than using it as a ruler to whack other people with. When we read this passage and contemplate people having to suffer the consequences of their stupid mistakes, it’s our own stupid mistakes we should consider, not other people’s. The wisdom that scripture interpretation requires is humility, and the gospel commands us to do all things with love. As Mother Teresa taught us, “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”

So perhaps this parable can help us – if we relentlessly refuse to apply it to anyone but ourselves – and indeed, do even that with humility and love. What are the questions it raises for us? How does it encourage us to consider our own faith journey? Could these hapless maidens prod us to think about how complacency may have taken over in our lives? Can we ask ourselves the hard questions of this story, without being too overly concerned with the complications of the details and dichotomies, or even Matthew’s agenda? Am I awake, alert, ready? What have I been putting off, assuming there will be plenty of time later to… get my life together… develop regular Bible reading habits… cultivate a fruitful prayer life. Waiting is not something our culture teaches us to do very well, at least not alert waiting. The kind of waiting we’re best at usually involves distracting ourselves with tiny images and words on our phones. But what would it look like to be waiting alertly, to be living with a constant sense that God is active in our lives, to truly be prepared to welcome Christ whenever and wherever he appears?

The questions this parable raises can become fruitful if we use them for our own growth. We all have times when we’d rather just watch tv. But God wants us active, involved, engaged with what God is doing in the world. What does it mean to be prepared for that? One commentator on this story noted that we don’t need a strong and mature faith, until we do. The truth is that we will all face moments when we will need to meet Christ face to face. If we haven’t prepared for that, if we have no idea how to go about it or where to find him, we may end up feeling like the door has been shut in our face. It doesn’t have to be that way. The point of this story is not that one stupid mistake is going to condemn us to the outer darkness, but rather that, with proper preparation – even the kind handed down through the generations – we can, indeed, set our hope in God and meet Christ with joy and celebration. Alleluia and Amen!