Matthew 25:1-13

Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten young women took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them, but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’

Then all those young women got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’

And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet, and the door was shut. Later the other young women came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’

Keep awake, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.

My guess is, you don’t like this parable. That’s okay, I didn’t like it either at first pass. And you probably don’t like it for one of these reasons.

First, everyone seems pretty unfair to the five “foolish” women. The women with extra oil are too selfish to share just a little bit. I seem to recall lots of other stories and parables where sharing our resources is the whole point. Even later in this chapter Jesus says what is done to those without food, water, clothing, is done to him. Yet these bridesmaids are called “wise”. Why not stingy? I guess oil doesn’t rank high enough.

Second, foolish seems a little harsh of an adjective don’t you think? Sure maybe they are unprepared, but preparedness isn’t the issue here, is it? Jesus doesn’t say at the end of this parable “be prepared.” Or “carry extra oil.” He says, “stay awake.” But don’t all ten of the bridesmaids fall asleep? Yes and all were awakened by the same shout at midnight.

Why does Jesus say to keep awake then if some who fell asleep were welcomed into the party but others were not?

Third, was it not the bridegroom’s fault that they all fell asleep in the first place? If he had just arrived when he said he was going to, then everyone’s lamp would have had enough oil, nobody would have fallen asleep, and everyone would have gone to the party. So why is there not more blame on the bridegroom?

You’ve felt like that in your faith life, too, no? If Jesus had just been there, if your prayers had just been answered, then maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did…

Lastly, perhaps why I struggle with this parable most, and maybe you too, is because it seems like the point of the whole thing is not simply be prepared, but be perfect. The five foolish bridesmaids did everything they were supposed to: they got ready for the wedding banquet, they grabbed their lamps and made sure they had oil in them, they went to the right location to welcome the bride and groom, they stayed awake as long as they could, but because they didn’t have extra oil, they can’t come to the banquet? Is the point of this parable?

You did everything you were supposed to, just not enough of it? Must we be perfect, plus some?

We all have that thing we’d like to think we can be perfect at. When I was a kid, I was convinced you could have a perfect day. And by perfect, I mean do all the things you’re supposed to do, for the length of time you're supposed to do them. I started a log so that I could track it all: wake up, pray for 10 minutes, read a few chapters of my Bible, eat breakfast, shower, clean ears, brush teeth, floss.

At this point though, I wasn’t sure what the perfect order to the perfect day should be. Should I shower then eat breakfast? Maybe eat breakfast first, then pray. But you should pray before meals? What if I cleaned my ears after I flossed? How long should I floss? At that point, I was convinced a perfect day was not possible and never finished making the log.

Perhaps your pursuit of perfection takes place at your job, or your role as parent, your financial plan, your diet, workout routine, skincare regimen, grades, or sports (playing or watching). But I bet by now you’ve figured out that perfection is not possible. And really, it’s not what we want in the first place.

At least that’s what Jonanthan Biss, a concert pianist, argues in a New York Times article he wrote this time last year. He believes perfection limits how we live and stunts our society.

He talks about the demands of classical musicians, their training not to make mistakes,

and how musicians' pursuit of perfection does not improve their performance, but gets in the way of true connection with the audience. “You cannot learn or grow while trying to appear as if you have everything figured out.” He sees it most in young musicians who play all the right notes, but take no risk in making music. Perfection gets in the way of what the music is really after, offering up the whole of one’s self, risks, mistakes and all, and trusting that’s what the audience will connect with and actually wants.

And that pursuit of perfection shapes how we hear this parable. Jesus is not interested in our perfection, what we have to offer, nor how much. Reading the parable a little closer, the five bridesmaids are not left out of the banquet because they didn’t have enough oil. They are left out because they were away buying oil when the groom showed up. The problem isn’t their failure to be perfect.

It’s that in trying to get what they think they needed for the celebration, they missed the person they were there to celebrate in the first place!

I am fairly certain, had the bridesmaids stayed there, lamps out, looking bashful in the shadow of the five wise bridesmaids, Jesus the bridegroom would have said, who cares about your lamps, it’s time to celebrate. Think of how many times you’ve been to a wedding and someone wasn’t dressed right or showed up late or was already intoxicated, and yet the bride and groom still welcomed them? How much more do you think Jesus the heavenly bridegroom will welcome you, flaws and all?

But more important than what would have happened is what did happen. The parable ends with the door slammed in the face of the foolish bridesmaids, left alone in the dark. But we know the rest of the story, it’s just not in this chapter. And what the rest of the story tells us is that Jesus doesn’t leave the foolish out in the dark of night. No, if the kingdom of heaven is indeed like a wedding banquet, at the cross Jesus the bridegroom willingly leaves the party, meets us the bridesmaids in the darkness and says, “to hell with the lamp and oil. Take my spot.”

That’s the exchange that happens in the death and resurrection of Jesus - him entering darkness and death to give you life.

And because Jesus meets our shortcomings with mercy, we can meet one another there, too. The holidays will surely give ample opportunity. When someone arrives late and empty-handed, we can welcome them with a seat at the table and a full plate. When someone starts apologizing because their house is a mess, we can say, “I’m glad to be here with you.”

In the weeks to come, you will encounter someone who doesn’t have what they should or hasn’t done what they promised. When you catch yourself noticing what’s missing, pause long enough to notice the person in front of you. Jesus did a lot more than simply welcome us with all that we lack. Maybe we can do the same.

And when it’s you who comes up short, when the day wasn’t perfect, you missed the notes, or you didn’t make the grade, or something far worse, you can trust that same mercy.

So take the risk, show up empty-handed. Because it’s not perfect preparedness, lit lamps with lots of oil that Jesus is after.

It’s you.

Amen.

Genesis 2:15-20a

The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.”

Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner.” So out of the ground the Lord God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air and brought them to the man to see what he would call them, and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. The man gave names to all cattle and to the birds of the air and to every animal of the field.

When I was a kid, maybe six or seven, my aunt and uncle got a golden retriever puppy. We did not have a dog at the time, so I was so excited to go over and play with it. When we got there, my dad asked, “what’s his name?”. Not yet having one, we made suggestions throughout the night, but nothing stuck.

On the way out of the door, my dad turned toward the puppy and said “see you later champ!” and walked to the car. And don’t you know they named that dog champ! We were shocked.

My dad had inadvertently named their dog.

It wasn’t until many years later, when Champ crossed over the rainbow bridge, that I reminisced with my dad about Champ and how he accidentally named him. To my utter shock, my dad said, “that was no accident… I called him champ before we left because I knew they would name him that. I’ve done it twice in my life and both times it worked like a charm!”

It wasn’t inadvertent at all. My dad, cunningly, slyly, named not one but two dogs that didn’t belong to him! I wasn’t sure if I was impressed or horrified.

After all, naming involves both power and intimacy. As one theologian put it, “naming reflects values and character. Naming reflects hope for who you want a child or an animal to be.” At its best, to name is to honor, to show respect, and to be in relationship with that being, human or animal. At its worst, naming inflicts a lot of harm and damage. In Genesis, I think we see the former.

In the first creation story, we get the famous line about humans having dominion over all the animals. Over the centuries, we have taken dominion to mean do as we wish, hurting that which God created and called good. But in the second creation story, we get an entirely different picture of the human-animal relationship.

Instead of speaking animals and humans into existence, God uses God’s hands to create life, pulling dirt together, giving it CPR, and up from the humus comes the human. God saw that the human shouldn’t be alone. So God did an experiment, and formed every creature, every animal, every bird, out of the ground, just like we were. So it shouldn’t shock us when we continue discovering all the ways we are similar to our animal friends.

And after comes what must be one of the most joyous, yet bizarre scenes in all the Bible.

God brought each one of the animals to Adam so that he could name it! Picture it, with a parade of animals lined up, God handed Adam a large feathered bird and said, what will name it. Adam looks at it and declares, Chicken! God, filled with delight, hands Adam another creature, “And what about this funny looking mammal”, “Aardvark!” How joyous. And whatever Adam named the creature, that was its name!

One of the very first things God gives humans the power to do is name. The question then is how does God intend for us to use that power. Is it to dominate, divide, and do what we please? Or is it to be in relationship with, to care for, to respect, to know the other creatures who walk the earth.

In the garden of Eden, I see Adam’s naming as an act of love and joy that builds relationships. However, we aren’t in the garden anymore. And nowadays we face a near irresistible urge to name each other in other ways, ways that divide and denigrate: conservative, progressive, traditional, modern, evangelical, liberal, young, old, Buckeye… We give huge groups of people one name just so we can fix them into the same box and judge them all the same way.

It is our task now to reclaim the power of naming, not to divide but, as Adam did and build relationships. This is not easy! If you have ever been in a relationship of any kind, name calling comes pretty naturally and quick!

So when you are struggling with that temptation to use other names, like we are so quick to do in our current culture, Think of the names God not only gives you, but also gives to everyone else: child, beloved, forgiven, friend. Even the people you can’t stand, God calls you both by the same names. And those aren’t just titles, but promises of how God sees us and how we can see each other, too.

When you come forward with your animal friend for a blessing, you will tell us their name. By your naming them, caring for them, respecting them, being in relationship with them, you are fulfilling the same call and command that God first gave to Adam back in the garden. So tell us their name in all it’s glory: rover, fluffy, stevie, sadie, tank, rex, sparkles, or even Champ.

We will bless them and the relationship you share.

But even more so, be blessed by the relationship God has with you. For not only does God call you by name, but all throughout Scripture God names us, names you: light of the world, salt of the earth, royalty, friend, child, co-heir with Christ, and most importantly, beloved. Amen.

It's Not About the Oil

Power to Name