Parables and Presidential Elections

Matthew 25:1-13

“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids 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 bridesmaids 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 bridesmaids 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.”

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What a strange parable for the strange time we’ve been living through this past week – and for whatever lies ahead for us in the days to come. Yes, I’m talking about our country’s presidential election that has caused most – if not all of us – some measure of stress, anxiety, frustration, and even fear, it’s fair to say, in too many cases.

It might seem like a stretch – and I’ll be curious to see what other preachers do with it this weekend – but I couldn’t help but think about those bridesmaids in Jesus’ story because of it all. There were 10 of them, remember. And five of them were foolish. Five of them were wise. Half of them got into the party. Half of them got shut out. Half of them won and half of them lost, you might say. (Sound familiar?)

And, of course, there was all of that waiting – for the bridegroom, as far as the parable goes. While so many of us were waiting – on pins and needles it seemed – for the announcement… for SOME announcement… for ANY announcement, about who the president would be, come January. And the announcement came, yesterday afternoon – whether we love it, or hate it, or believe it, or buy it; whether we were ready for it, or not.

Now, I’m not going to get into who might be foolish and who might be wise in all of this. The hard but holy truth about that for those of us at Cross of Grace – and all around this country, really – is that we find ourselves lined up all along the political spectrum. And the other truth is – no matter who you were waiting on or hoping would be announced as the winner, this week – neither of them measures up to the bridegroom who is the Messiah, in Jesus’ parable.

And the other truth is, too much of the time, for too many people, parables like this one are used to determine what it means to be – and who is – not just wise or foolish; but right or wrong; in or out; winners or losers, welcome or locked out – when it comes to the Kingdom of God. We love to make winners and losers out of each other, don’t we?

There’s something about human nature that makes us want to choose sides. And, that’s one way to look at this parable – for sure. I imagine there are plenty of pastors today preaching about being wise and not foolish – about being prepared rather than not – all in an effort to be on the right side of God’s banquet hall door before it closes. 

But, we are a people who claim – and who have been claimed by – God’s grace for the sake of the world. So let’s not be so short-sighted or small or scared by this today, or by some of the things that are going on the world around us.

Because I started wondering something else this week and yesterday afternoon about Jesus’ parable of the bridesmaids. In light of what we’re up to and all we’re up against in our country these days, I wondered, would Jesus really close the door to the party on half of us, just because some of us might be more foolish than the others? Am I going to be locked out of the kingdom because I’m not always as ready, or as right, as the guy next to me? Are we going to miss our shot at the invite list because there have been times when we’ve fallen asleep at the wheel of our faith; made bad choices; lost or gotten lost every once in a while along the way?

And do any of us want to give that impression to anyone else in our lives or in this world? Because if any of that is true, we can bet there are going to be plenty of empty seats at God’s proverbial wedding banquet. Maybe nothing but empty seats based on the criteria of some people I know.

So, I don’t think any of that is what Jesus’ story holds for us today.

And remember the nuts and bolts of Jesus’ story… As far as the bridesmaids go (and we are represented by the bridesmaids in this one) some are prepared with lamps and plenty of oil. Others aren’t expecting to wait all that long, so they didn’t pack as many supplies. But the groom is late and they all fall asleep while they wait. And when they hear he’s on the way, they wake up and start preparing for the party. The five foolish ones, who didn’t bring extra oil, are out of luck and out of light and the five wise ones who came prepared don’t have enough to share. So the foolish bridesmaids are sent off looking to buy oil and in the meantime, the groom starts the party without them. When the slackers finally show up, it’s too late. The doors are shut and they miss the party.

But, instead of a “who’s in” and “who’s out” sort of morality tale, what if Jesus wants us to imagine why the ‘wise’ bridesmaids refused to share with their friends and neighbors when they had the chance?

Or, what if Jesus wants us to wonder about the variety of privileges and circumstances that allowed some of them (some of us) to be more prepared, more informed, more rich with oil than others?

What if, Jesus is reminding us that we’ve all had opportunity to be wise and foolish, to be awake and to fall asleep, to be ready and to be unprepared on any given day? And we have been.

What if Jesus wants us to wonder if those “wise” bridesmaids even worried about the others, once the party started? Did the ones who got in – the winners – have any concern for the ones who didn’t make it, I mean? Or did they just electric-slide their way into eternity, glad to know they weren’t left out in the cold?

So, I’d like us to get something from this parable other than more reason for self-righteous judgment or unfounded fear this time around. There’s too much of that in our world these days. I’d like us to get something out of this story besides a laundry list of what makes some of us better than or more ready than our neighbor to get into heaven. I’d like us to get something more out of this parable than the fire and brimstone and division that are so much easier to preach about and to practice, frankly, than the grace and the forgiveness and the salvation God promises, ultimately, in Jesus.

The problem with the fire and brimstone, winner and loser stuff – whether it comes from a pastor, a preacher or a political pundit – is the attention it pays to the end result, instead of what’s going on right here and right now among us, in our daily lives, on this side of God’s heaven.

See, I like to remember – and we just had a full-on discussion of this in our Bethel Bible Series class on Thursday night – that as often as not, when Jesus talked about the Kingdom of Heaven – which is what that wedding banquet represents, remember – he was talking about life on this side of the grave, not always or only about life on the other side of it all.

So what if, as bridesmaids waiting for Jesus, we looked for new, better ways to stay awake and keep alert – right here and right now, wherever we find ourselves. And what if the lamps we light – what if the light we shine for the sake of the world – doesn’t really have anything at all to do with oil? What if the light we shine comes from whatever grace, mercy, and peace we can extend? From whatever humility, forgiveness, and hope we can share? From whatever generosity, love, and kindness we have to offer?

And what if we were wise enough to share those blessings with each other more openly these days? What if we could muster a holy, sincere sort of curiosity, about all those who are feeling lost… or, like they lost… or, that they’ve been locked out of the party for whatever reason? Because they voted differently than us... because they’ve been told their whole lives the banquet isn’t for them… because the system is so stacked against them that they can never seem to get their fair share of oil… (This is about more than “RED” and “BLUE,” “LEFT” and “RIGHT,” after all.)

What if we worked harder to make sure all would come to experience something of God’s kingdom of justice and joy – here and now – knowing and believing and living differently because we’re each going to end up at the same heavenly banquet, in the end, thanks be to God.

Amen

A Reformation Garden

John 8:31-36

Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.”  They answered him, “We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone.  What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free’?”  Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin.  The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there forever.  So if the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.”

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I came across an old file this week, with an even older story in it, that struck me as particularly relevant for Reformation Sunday. From what I could tell thanks to some help from Google, it was written by a woman named Anne Hѐbert, and was part of a book by an old, recently deceased religion professor from my undergraduate alma mater, which, I suppose is how it ended up in my file of things worth saving. His name was Carl Skrade. This story, called “The Garden,” has been re-written in a couple of different ways it seems, and I have taken a few liberties with it, myself. It goes like this:

In the beginning, there were more than just Adam and Eve. In the beginning, God made a whole bunch of us. He made a whole bunch of us because he wanted us to have a lot of fun, and he said you can’t really have fun unless there’s a whole gang of you. So God put us – all together – in a place called Eden, which was a combination garden and playground and park, and told us to go and have a great time.

At first, we did have fun just as God had planned. We rolled down hills, we waded in streams, we climbed up trees, we swung on vines, we ran in meadows, we frolicked in the woods. We were filled with joy. We laughed a lot. Life was good.

And then the snake slithered his way into Eden with the good news. The snake told us we weren’t having real fun because we weren’t keeping score. Back then, we had no idea what “score” was and even after the snake explained it, we still couldn’t see what was supposed to be so fun about it. But, the snake insisted and said we should give an apple to the person who was best at all the games. Now that sounded like fun and it made sense that keeping score was the only way to know who was best and who, as a result, should get the apple. The reason it sounded fun, was of course, because secretly, we were all sure we were the best.

Things were different after that. We yelled a lot. We argued. We pointed fingers.  And we spent more time making up rules for all of our games and keeping score than we did actually playing. Except for the frolicking – there are no rules for frolicking, which makes it impossible to score – so we just stopped doing that all together.

When God saw what we were up to, God wasn’t happy. God was sad. God was mad. God was wroth with anger – very, very wroth. God said we couldn’t use the  garden anymore because we weren’t having fun. We told God we were having lots of fun and that he was just being narrow-minded because it wasn’t exactly the kind of fun he’d originally thought of. 

God wouldn’t listen.

He kicked us out, and said we couldn’t come back until we stopped keeping score.  To rub it in (“to get our attention,” he said), God told us we were all going to die and that our scores wouldn’t mean anything anyway.

God was wrong. Really, it was life in the garden that didn’t mean anything. Fun is great in its place but without scoring there’s no reason for it. We were lucky to have figured that out. We’re all very grateful to the snake. The end.

It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? But it’s a great story. It’s an interesting satire on creation and the garden and what humanity did with the promises God offered.  But it’s ridiculous. No one would admit to being grateful for the snake. No one would suggest you can’t have fun without keeping score. No one would imply that being banished from the garden was a good thing. Or would we?

I think this is a story Martin Luther might have told back in the early days of the Reformation. Luther was trying to get people to realize what we had done with the promises of God. Luther was trying to change the way we – and the Church – looked at life as followers of Jesus. Luther was trying to get us to reconsider the many ways we were making up rules and keeping score and not being true to God’s intention for our lives.

In Luther’s day – back in the 16th Century – people were keeping score with rituals and rules and riches, too. You could pay cash for salvation. You could visit a holy shrine as a way to earn your way into heaven. You could be sure God’s grace was for you by explaining to others why it couldn’t possibly be for them. All of this made Martin Luther sad. It made him mad. Like God, in the Garden, Martin Luther, was wroth with anger – very, very wroth.

And it really wasn’t much different than what was going on in the days of Jesus, either. Just like those who got kicked out of the garden so quickly, the followers of Jesus were screwing up by keeping score, too. The Pharisees were finding fault, the Sadducees were slinging stones and the Scribes were scribbling down their rules. All of it was about who was right and who was wrong; who was earning God’s favor and who was reaping God’s judgment; who was winning with the most points and was losing with the lowest score, you might say.

But God’s rule book is all about getting us back into the garden. And I believe God is more saddened than he is wroth with anger when it comes to our situation. We were always meant to be happy and joyful and fulfilled and free. What Jesus taught us and what Martin Luther reminded us is that grace is ours for the taking. It’s God’s original intention for our lives. Grace is the gift that clears the tote board. Grace levels the playing field. The grace of God evens the score.

Because of grace, we don’t have to hold onto guilt – we can trust in God’s forgiveness, even when we can’t forgive ourselves. Because of grace, we don’t have to bear grudges – we can forgive and forget and move on. Because of grace, we don’t have to compare, we can just be ourselves; we don’t have to play dirty, we can play fair; we don’t have to keep up with the Joneses, we can live within our means. Because of grace we can give with gratitude because we get to, not because we have to. Because of grace we don’t have to be afraid of the future, but we can enjoy the life with which we’ve been blessed.

But this kind of grace is a hard-sell, still, for the people of God, isn’t it? We are still very much about keeping score in almost every realm of our lives, aren’t we? You can’t turn on the TV without being scared by the statistics of this virus, whose numbers are on the rise again. And all of that makes us measure the stock market and worry about 401k’s and bottom lines. Pastors and Church Councils and congregations of all stripes are watching attendance numbers and wringing their hands over the offering plate. In another election like the one overwhelming our nation, again, we are consumed by the polls that have us counting and comparing and losing hair and sleep and friends, sometimes, because of it. We count calories and chemo treatments and lab results and test scores of all kinds. We count birthdays and anniversaries with all kinds of mixed emotions. And we count days, months, minutes, and years since we’ve seen our loved ones last or until we might get to see them again.

It’s exhausting. And all of this counting makes it so easy to lose sight of what has already and will, ultimately, save us, in the end… what will really get us back to the Garden (or back into the household, as Jesus says it this morning)… the Truth that will make us free, I mean.

Several years ago, the Reverend Billy Graham was in Indianapolis for one of his revivals. Before the big event, he held a special, smaller revival just for pastors and church leaders. And I remember a Pastor friend of mine saying that, during a question and answer session, another pastor in the crowd asked Billy Graham what the one thing was that people in the world needed to know.

And Billy Graham said that the one thing people needed to know was this thing about grace. And supposedly, Billy-Freaking-Graham said that Lutherans were the “sleeping giant” of the Christian faith because, if the Lutherans could just unlock and tap into and find out how to best share their foundational understanding of God’s grace, they – WE – LUTHERANS – could change the world.

That is a special charge and a holy responsibility to wonder about on Reformation Sunday, in these days, when the church and the world, still, seem so Hell-bent on keeping score so much of the time.

So let’s remember that God’s grace means to be true freedom in our lives and for the world. And that only by living in it and by sharing it with others will we catch a glimpse of those days we used to know – back in the garden, before anyone tempted us to know otherwise, before we became slaves to the sin of keeping score, and making-believe that we have the right to judge others or the power to save ourselves. The truth is, there is real freedom in acknowledging that we can do neither. And when we start living differently because of this truth, we might just wake the sleeping giant of God’s grace and to let it loose in our lives and for the sake of the world where we live.

Amen