Sermon for November 8, 2020 - The First Sunday of Advent - Proper 27 - Year A - The Rev Jeffrey W. Mello
Joshua 24:1–3a, 14–25; Psalm 78; 1 Thessalonians 4:13–18; Matthew 25:1–13
I wonder how long it took for that bridegroom to show up. How much oil did a first century lamp hold? And how long could a full lamp burn before it started to flicker and go out?
What made half of the bridesmaids think to bring extra oil, as if to expect a late arrival?
This parable of Jesus about the coming of the kingdom of God has a lot of holes in it, if you poke it enough. But parables aren’t allegories and they aren’t historic accounts. They are meant to cast an image that those who are listening can see themselves in, in order to teach a larger point.
The larger point here is that in order to see God break into the world, we have to be ready, we have to be prepared to watch, to be patient, and to be wise enough to prepare ourselves for the unexpected long haul.
Waiting, watching, holding out hope. Sound familiar?
No matter where you are on the political spectrum, the conclusion of the election for president brought an end to a very long and deeply bitter season of waiting and hoping, stretching our patience to its very limit.
This morning, just over half of the country feels like the half of the bridesmaids who were there to see the bridegroom arrive, and are now at the banquet feast. And just under half of the country feels like the bridesmaids who went to get oil and were consequently left out of the party.
But whether you celebrated or not yesterday, we all share the same truth today. The kingdom of God is not yet here. CNN did not announce its arrival yesterday morning. No matter how you’re feeling about the next occupant of the White House, the work of building the kingdom of God remains in front of us, not behind us.
Typically Advent, like Lent, gives those of us with fairly comfortable lives an opportunity to step into a time outside of time. In a world of instant access, on demand, prime and overnight delivery, Advent gives us a chance to practice slowing down, paying attention, putting hope for God-with-us front and center in our lives.
But since we last observed Advent, life has brought us plenty of its own Advent parables.
Be patient. Keep vigilant. Be prepared. Keep hoping.
Those words, historically reserved for Advent devotionals, are now the soundbites of gubernatorial press conferences and the takeaways from superintendent emails.
So I am surprised, then, to find myself eagerly anticipating Advent this year. I am glad that not even 24 hours have passed since the end of the election cycle of waiting, and this holy season of waiting, and watching and hoping.
This year, Advent won’t be a time to practice something outside of my experience as it usually is. Rather, this year, it will be a time to put the lens of holy expectation and sacred waiting on my very real lived experience of political waiting, COVID watching, and my hoping for the long-sought after justice of God.
There are two questions that today’s parable raises for me in my 2020 practice of waiting for God’s Dream to come true.
How much oil is in my lamp?
How will I participate in God’s attempts to break into the world and make the kindom a reality in this world?
The question about oil is a multilayered one. What is the oil in my lamp? Prayer? Community? Worship? Dancing? Connecting with God in nature or beauty or service to others?
Each of us needs to figure out for ourselves, with God’s wisdom, what it is that keeps the lamps of our souls burning brightly. Eight months into this pandemic has many of our lamps flickering.
If we’re going to make it, we’ve got to get ourselves to the merchant who offers us the oil of our hearts.
I pray that pouring myself into my observance of Advent this year will not be about checking a box or performing as I think I should. It will be about filling my lamp again with oil of wisdom, and patience, and hope as it is offered to me in this community of faith.
The second question is a call to active waiting and urgent patience. When the bridegroom showed up, the five who were there saw that he had arrived and went with him into the feast. Though they had enough oil, it is clear they waited much longer than they might have expected.
They could have become preoccupied by the cares and concerns of their own lives. They could have gotten bored; gotten tired of waiting and drifted off, drifted away.
COVID fatigue is a real thing. One factor driving the numbers back up is that people have become impatient with the restrictions and have relaxed their own safety standards out of pure exhaustion.
As a colleague of mine recently said, and I paraphrase, “We now know this isn’t a sprint but a marathon. But now we’re wondering just how long the marathon is, is it an ultra marathon? Is it a triathlon?”
And if you are frustrated that racial justice has not been realized in this country in the five and a half months since George Floyd was killed, imagine those who have been waiting 56 years since the Civil Rights Act was signed, or the 157 years since the Emancipation Proclamation was signed or the 400 years since we became a country that traded human beings.
It is worth remembering here the wisdom of Martin Luther King, Jr., when he reminded us that, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
The work was not finished yesterday. And it will not be complete on January 20th. Maybe yesterday your lamp got a delivery of much needed oil, or maybe you caught a glimpse of the inbreaking of God, or saw the arc bend just a bit more toward justice.
Enjoy that. Sit with that. Hold on to that. Better yet, share that. For that is the oil you will need for the work that lies in front of you.
There is a long, hard road ahead of before the world is as God would have it be.
But the world as God would have it is coming. It comes to us in bits and pieces, sometimes in moments that are fleeting and sometimes that moment changes us forever. But it is coming.
Let us join the wise women in our inpatient patience, urgent waiting and expectant hope. Let us fill our lamps till they overflow with God’s love for this world that God has made and let us pray that, when God comes into the world, we will have the wisdom to join God at the party.
AMEN.
1 While all direct and indirect quotes are always cited, there are sources I read regularly in preparation for sermon writing. Chances are thoughts have been spurred by these sources and so I list the usual suspects here: David Lose, In the Meantime, The New Interpreters Bible, Sacra Pagina
© 2020 The Reverend Jeffrey W. Mello