November 09, 8:30am (Sare Gordy)
He didn’t come, and he didn’t come, and the first century Christians, who really thought they’d see the day themselves, were left like a group of bridesmaids holding a lantern aloft, looking into the night and waiting, waiting, waiting for the bridegroom. Until finally, they went to sleep, because really – who knew when he was going to come?
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2008-11-09
8:30 AM
Matthew 25:1-13
The Rev. Sare Gordy
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The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids
This is a parable about how to be a disciple, and whether or not it was ever spoken by Jesus himself (which is debatable) it certainly contains wisdom that the early Christian community around the disciple Matthew took to heart, and that is wisdom that we can learn from.
Now, it is true that the parables we know to be from Jesus are originally a Jewish form of storytelling, and are the First Century equivalent to sound-bytes; that is, they might be a seemingly complex story, but in truth they were stories that flipped expectations upside-down, and had just one point. Jesus’ parables were not originally, nor were they ever intended to be allegories, which were a Greek form of storytelling with multiple points and one-to-one relationships between bits of the story and bits of real life. But of course, according to many biblical scholars, it only took a few generations for the early Christians to lose sight of their Jewish heritage and to transpose much of what had been given to them to a more familiar cultural understanding: the Greek mindset. So original Jewish one-point parables were interpreted as Greek allegories, and further stories told about Jesus were added to try to explain the wisdom he passed on to his disciples, and they to their disciples, and those further stories were told originally as allegories.
Let me say that a different way:
This parable that we just heard may never have been one of Jesus’ original one-point, turn-the-world-upside-down parables. This “parable” may have been added later by the Greek disciples whose affinity to allegory copied the general style of the parable in trying to share this piece of wisdom, but in fact they created not a true parable, but an allegory, and so, to best understand the wisdom, we should treat the story as it is, not as it pretends to be.
But enough historical criticism. The parable – or allegory, if you like – is about how to be a disciple. More particularly, the story is about how to be a disciple in a time and place where things are not going as you thought they would be. Which, if you think about it, could be just about any time in history.
The first and second century disciples – let’s look at them for a moment. Jesus came, Jesus taught, Jesus rocked the world of so many, Jesus was put to death by the Romans, and Jesus was experienced even after his death by so many of those whose lives he changed for the better. And unlike the death of John the Baptist, the death of Jesus of Nazareth did not stop his movement, or dull the enthusiasm of those who followed him – rather, their faith was strengthened. And it was widely believed – widely, mind you – among all of those who were influenced by his life, it was widely believed that he would be coming back, bodily, and that at that time there would be somehow, miraculously, a new heaven and a new earth, though the details were sketchy, and everyone had their own opinion and their own divine vision about what that might look like, some more fantastic than others.
But he didn’t come. Or at least, not that anyone noticed.
He didn’t come, and he didn’t come, and the first century Christians, who really thought they’d see the day themselves, were left like a group of bridesmaids holding a lantern aloft, looking into the night and waiting, waiting, waiting for the bridegroom. Until finally, they went to sleep, because really – who knew when he was going to come? Better to get some sleep and be ready and rested when he finally does arrive, than to burn out early, so to speak.
And here we have a few interesting points, because after all, this is a Greek allegory, and everything has a one-to-one relationship. One very interesting thing that scholars have noted about this passage is how much Matthew and the community around Matthew really isn’t concerned with the concrete details about how and when the bridegroom is going to arrive – the bridegroom, who in this story stands in for the second coming of Jesus, the Messiah. And this sense is carried out in other stories in Matthew as well. The where, when, and how of that coming just isn’t something that preoccupies this community, as it does some others. They recognize he hasn’t come yet, but they have no problem continuing on living life, and in the story, going to sleep, even while they wait.
But of course, there is more to the allegory. In this story, we hear up front that some of the bridesmaids bring extra oil, just in case, and others don’t. And those that don’t end up losing the opportunity to be the first to greet the bridegroom when he comes. And this, rather than the idea of constant vigilance, is the focus of the story. This can be, and has been, interpreted as a definition of discipleship that has as the most important aspect the doing of small deeds in the normal course of our lives. If you will, living with integrity, where our actions are so informed by our beliefs that even the smallest things we do that perhaps no one would ever take note of, even those smallest things are resonant with our beliefs. This is the way of discipleship, Matthew would argue, and this is the very pavement of the road to the Kingdom of Heaven. Small acts, small things that we do that perhaps no one notices, even when we can’t see what we are hoping for.
It was a story that rang true for first century Christians who dealt with the on-again off-again persecution of the Roman Empire: The diligence of small people acting in small ways, keeping hope alive, even though the end cannot be seen.
It was true throughout the centuries, in the face of plague, war, despots, slavery and hatred. The diligence of small people acting in small ways, keeping hope alive, even though the end cannot be seen.
It is true now, even in our own civilized time. In the face of global warming, economic meltdown, nuclear shenanigans, the wisdom still resonates. The diligence of small people acting in small ways, keeping hope alive, even though the end cannot be seen, is an important and necessary part of our discipleship. Yours and mine.
Which, to my mind, begs a question: how is it that will exercise that discipleship? What decision will we make today, tomorrow, this week – in what way will we do our part for the stewardship of the world? For love of God and love of neighbor and love of self? For quietly and gently acting as Christ’s hands and feet in this world?
Those are questions that we can only answer for ourselves, and only then answer in our very actions. I invite you this week to join me in living out the answers.
Amen.
