SouthMinister's Musings

Joshua 24:14-24
Matthew 25:1-13

A sermon preached October 26, 2008
Southminster Presbyterian
Boise, Idaho

Our weddings still have bridesmaids, but other than that, perhaps we feel a little removed from this parable of Jesus’ in Matthew.
When we invite people to our weddings today, we tell people to show up at a particular time. 2:00 pm, let’s say. But in Jesus’ day, time has a different priority. The invitation to this wedding would have said, “please join us on Tuesday. Or maybe Wednesday.” Because the party wasn’t going to start until the bridegroom arrived. And if his camel were stuck in a traffic jam in Tel Aviv or he were delayed on business or if he were standing in line to vote, then the party would be delayed until he got there. So the bridesmaids had arrived at the church early, helped their friend into her wedding finery, put on their own fancy dresses, and then taken their lamps to line the road, so that when the groom arrived, he’d be able to see where he was going.

Because that is another difference from our lives. We don’t spend much time in actual darkness. We are used to streetlights, the glow from the lights of our cities and towns. Even when the lights are off, we are surrounded by the glow of reflected light. But darkness was real and treacherous for the people hearing this tale the first time. So the bridesmaids line the route with their lamps.
And here is another major difference between our lives and theirs. When we need light, we flip a switch. Or grab our flashlight. Or that new hand crank/solar powered emergency radio/flashlight that NPR was giving away in their pledge drive. If the power goes out, we can always grab some matches and light a candle.
But these bridesmaids had to use lamps. Into one of these clay lamps, they would put a wick and then fill it with oil. The closest thing we have to it today are the candles on our communion table. Did you know they were filled with oil? And when the flame grows dim, it means that they need more oil.
Now I know that when I flip a switch, it requires electricity, which often is powered by oil, but we are pretty removed from the actual oil. Unless we’re saying “drill baby, drill” or otherwise talking about our oil supply or alternative energy, we don’t have to get our hands dirty, or oily, as it were.
But these bridesmaids, these friends of the bride and groom who were so excited to help the celebration, needed to think about oil. And the wise ones did. They recognized that the waiting time could be long. The foolish bridesmaids, on the other hand, were perhaps so excited about the party that was to come that they didn’t worry about the details in the meantime. For all we know, they had vats of oil sitting around at home, but a fat lot of good it was going to do them now. So this text is not about hoarding or stockpiling. You can sock away all of the oil in the world, but if you don’t bring it with you when you head to the wedding, it won’t do you any good. You cannot be the light of the world, or the light for the bridegroom, if you leave your oil squirreled away in your closet. Oil is only of value when you are willing to use it.

So, five of the bridesmaids were ready to use it. Five were not. Please notice that this is not an “us vs. them” text. Even though Matthew often does divide people into camps, in this case all 10 of the bridesmaids were invited to the party and were close enough friends of the couple that they were invited to this task. We shouldn’t be looking for the foolish bridesmaids outside those doors. We are them. Wise and foolish all in this room. We are together in this.
And, this particular bridegroom was late. Very late. All of the maids had fallen asleep. But when they heard the shout that he was on the way, they woke up and made preparations, trimming the wick and refilling their lamps. But the foolish, who had left their extra at home, tried to borrow some from the wise. At first glance, it is the wise who look like hoarders here. I can hear them saying, “a lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on my part”.
“Oh come on!”, we want to say, “just give them a little”.

But, in truth, there are some reserves you have to shore up for yourself.
Let’s say the bridesmaids had all been flying to this wedding, when the plane had trouble and the oxygen masks dropped down. What do the flight attendants always say during those safety talks at the beginning of a flight?
“Please secure your own oxygen mask before assisting others.”
If this parable had taken place on a plane, perhaps the foolish bridesmaids would have not just been asking the wise to help them but would have said, “We didn’t bring oxygen masks. Give us your oxygen masks”.
Because for the wise to share their oil at that point in the evening would have meant that nobody would have had enough oil.
There are some reserves you have to prepare for yourself. Others can’t do it for you. No matter how much they might want to.

I think of friends who wish they could just give their faith to their friends or their children. When you see someone who is hurting, or feels alone, all you want to do is help them. Fix them. Let them know what you know. That God is with them. That they are not alone.
And we do what we can. We teach our children and bring them to worship and Sunday school. We pray for our friends and visit those who are alone. But, ultimately, we can’t give them our faith. We just can’t. We can invite them to join us in the journey. We can be present with them in their journey. But we can’t just pour the faith out of our own lamps and put it in theirs. It just doesn’t work that way.
I think about some of the shut-ins of this church, and other churches, with whom I have visited. It is not uncommon to hear them say something like, “I wish I could keep my pledge to the church as high as it used to be. I care so much about this church and want to build for the future, but my medical expenses have doubled and I have just enough to get by. I will still give what I can, but I can’t give as much as I would like.”
These people, and others, who have built this church, would like nothing more than to fill each one of our lamps, to fund the budget of this church. But it doesn’t work like that. We each need to do our part to keep our own lamps lit.
I don’t know what your part is. I can’t just tell you, “give us x amount of money and we’ll have what we need.” All I can say is that you have to consider the future for yourself, look at the reserves you have, and figure out what you need to bring with you so we’ll all have enough.

This oil crisis is about putting things in the right order. While one lesson in this text is that there are some preparations you have to make for yourself, another lesson is this:
You can help other people after you’ve filled your own lamp. As I am learning how to get done all of the things (or as many of the things) that being your pastor requires, I’m learning that.
If I’m too busy and don’t take the time for my prayer life, I end up wiped out and unable to really be there for you. But if I start my day at the office in prayer, before I tackle the rest of the to-do list, I find that I somehow have the time to get the rest of it done too. So, for me, to keep oil in my lamp involves dedicated time for prayer and scripture reading as well as making sure I get home to be with my family.
What does it take for you to refill your lamp? What are the reserves you need to shore up so that you will be able to light a path for someone else?

Because we are called to light the path. The bridegroom shows up and tells people to “Keep awake! For you know neither the day nor the hour.”
On one level, this story is surely about Jesus’ return. His followers were and had been, expecting his return any day. And you can imagine that if you think Jesus is coming back tomorrow then maybe it isn’t so important that you go do the laundry this afternoon.
But the bridegroom says, “keep awake.”
Matthew is addressing a real concern in his community. What do we do while we wait for Jesus’ return. We are told to keep awake.
That doesn’t mean to just sit there and look down the road so we’ll see the bridegroom when he approaches. This isn’t a passive waiting to which we are being called. We are to keep our lamps trimmed and burning. It is an active waiting. It involves preparing the way. It means we volunteer to teach Sunday school so we can share our light with others. It means we help weed the flower beds at the church or rake the leaves so that our facility will be inviting to others. It means we visit and send cards to people who are alone. It means we sign up to greet people, to usher, to serve on committees. Our understanding of stewardship involves more than money. Yes, we believe that what we do with our money speaks to our priorities. But we also believe the same of our time.
At our house, we spend, conservatively, 8 to 10 hours a week making sure our kids get to soccer practice and soccer games. Do we spend that much on their faith development?
When I was in youth ministry, I heard from families all the time, “Jimmy would love to come to youth group, but he just doesn’t have time.”
On one level, I know that is true. Kids today are often over scheduled and the demands on their time can be great. But, on another level, I wonder—how did we get here? How did we end up at a place where church is something that we fit in at the end, after we’ve done everything else first? How did church slip below soccer, video games and college football on our national priority list?
I haven’t made reference to the Joshua passage we heard this morning, but the two are not unrelated. Joshua, who led the Israelites after Moses’ death, called the Israelites together and makes a statement we still hear today. “Choose this day whom you will serve. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” While some read this as a one time decision, I think it might be an each day decision too. Each day, this day, we choose whom we will serve. And some days are likely going to be better than others. But we do it again, each day.

Many of you, I know, are actively involved here, doing the work of the kingdom. I know that because I wonder if some of you are here more than I am.
But all of us are called to be actively preparing for God’s kingdom.
We are called to be wise bridesmaids. And not out of fear that we won’t get into the party. We don’t choose God out of fear. We choose God in response to the gifts and grace we’ve already received. We are to keep our lamps trimmed and burning so that when the bridegroom shows up, we’ll be ready to join the party. This text is about awaiting the kingdom with a watchful joy. When I hear the bridegroom say, “Truly I tell you, I do NOT know you,” I confess I get a little annoyed. The tone I hear in my head for that line is angry Jesus with his hand up, emphasis on the “NOT”. But as I’ve been thinking about this text, I started hearing another tone in Jesus’ voice. “Truly I tell you, I do not KNOW you.” I hear sad Jesus acknowledging a truth. Perhaps he wants us to keep our lamps trimmed and burning so that we’ll be free and ready to spend some time with him at the celebration. The more time we spend in preparation, the better we’ll know each other when the party starts.

I don’t know the day nor the hour either. But I do know this. It is in the preparations—in the spending time serving alongside you— that the light shines bright enough that I can see a little further down the road.
As we move along in our stewardship campaign, even though it is in the midst of relatively dark economic times, I invite you this week to consider the oil that you have to bring along with you as you prepare for Christ. It is in darkness that we need light the most. Let us bring our oil in watchful joy and pray with anticipation and excitement about what God is dreaming for us here at Southminster. Amen

A sermon preached at Southminster
October 12, 2008

Exodus 32:1-14
Philippians 4:1-9

I don’t know what it was like in your household growing up, or what it is like today, but pronouns can be important things. I’m happy to claim my children most of the time, but when they misbehave (which isn’t often) or start exhibiting behavior that resembles their father—like when they practice soccer in the house—my pronouns switch. Listen to the difference between “my children raked the yard without even being asked” and “your children drank milk out of the carton.”
Do you hear the difference?
Did you notice it in the texts?
Let’s start with Exodus—
The people say to Aaron, “as for this Moses guy, the man who brought us out of Egypt…” They don’t call him our buddy, pal, friend, leader—he’s just “that guy that brought us out of Egypt”. You’d think Aaron would say, “yeah, I know Moses. Remember, he’s my BROTHER?” But he doesn’t. This use of pronouns to distance them from Moses is interesting.
And when Aaron fashions the calf out of their earrings, they say, “THESE are your gods, O Israel. This calf is the god who delivered you from slavery.” They are like politicians who seem to believe that just because they say something, it will be true.
But then God and Moses get into the pronoun game too. God sees what the people are doing and says, “Moses, you better get down there. YOUR people, the ones YOU brought out of Egypt, are really making me mad.”
But Moses implored to the Lord, HIS God—no false idols for Moses—and said, “don’t be angry with YOUR people—remember the ones YOU brought out of Egypt. They were just like this when you chose them, God, so don’t be all surprised by their behavior now!”
Neither God nor Moses wants to claim Israel at this particular moment in history. Or, perhaps in the give and take of the conversation, both partners are calling the other to support the Israelites.
And then Moses, in an argument so well crafted that I wonder if it made God regret God’s choice of a leader for the people, Moses brings up the Patriarchs. Remember, he says to God, remember YOUR servants—Abraham, Isaac and Israel—remember how YOU swore to them by YOUR own SELF…

And here’s the amazing thing to me. In the midst of this pronoun battle over who has to claim the Israelites, Moses calls on God to change God’s own mind.
And it works. Moses is not afraid to argue with God. Moses is not afraid to remind God of the promises. And God turns back to God’s own people.

But I understand why God would want to smite the Israelites right there where they stood with that idol. With that empty piece of Gold. “You want to worship your old earrings!!!?” God must have been pulling his proverbial hair out while watching that scene unfold.
Who would build their own gods? That’s just crazy. Nobody we know would do that, would they?

I suggest that any time we start giving credit to the wrong thing or the wrong person, we’ve made an idol. Like the Israelites claiming that the calf had brought them out of Egypt, how many times have we done something similar?

How many times, for example, have we made an idol out of being an American? While I love my country and am thankful to live here, it is to none of my own credit that I am an American. I didn’t choose to be born here, and I suspect that is true for most of you too. Yet, we often act as if we are somehow better than the people who had the nerve to be born somewhere else. How often do we hear the phrase ‘God bless America’ used to imply that God shouldn’t be blessing everyone else too?

How many times have we made idols out of ourselves? Acting as if we deserve all of the credit for our own delivery out of slavery. Anytime we deny that we need each other, when we deny that we need help, we’re fashioning an idol to our own independence.

Some of you may have heard on the news in the past week that there is a group of pastors who are going to use their pulpits to endorse candidates for political office. They argue that the separation of church and state amounts to censorship and is a violation of their right to Free Speech. While I am willing to share my political convictions, I will not be doing it from the pulpit—and not because of First Amendment issues. To equate the Good News of the Gospel with the political objectives of ANY political party here on earth is to cheapen the gospel. It would be the act of making an idol to my own political leanings and expecting you to hand me your earrings so I can fashion a golden image you can worship. God is not a tool of either the Republican or the Democratic Party and to endorse a candidate for president from this pulpit would be a violation of my call to serve the Living God.

So, what makes us do it? What makes us build empty meaningless idols?

Perhaps we do it when we feel we’re alone. That’s what the Israelites were thinking out there in the wilderness. Moses had been up on top of that mountain a long time. Look back through Exodus this week and see how many directions God gives to Moses—it must have taken days. But the people didn’t know that was what was going on. Did Moses abandon them? Did he die? Is he ever coming back for them or are they going to spend the rest of their lives sitting by the side of this mountain? And this wilderness, below the mountain is barren. You do feel alone in a landscape that vast.
But as much as they felt alone, they weren’t alone. They had each other. And Moses was right where he said he’d be. And God was watching over them.
When have you felt alone and built idols to your independence or self-reliance?

Perhaps we build idols when we are afraid. Fear was likely connected to the Israelites concerns about being alone. Perhaps they were also fearing the future. What was life going to look like, following God into the unknown future? Perhaps they were building an idol to their past, an idol to the good ol’ days, which, of course, were not all that good. Pharaoh was downright awful, in fact. But he was at least predictable. This God is not predictable.

Perhaps we build idols just to keep busy. Perhaps they thought that the act of melting down their earrings and making something they could focus on, sacrifice to, would keep them busy and distracted. Perhaps we build idols to our industriousness. To our productivity. To our economy.

But perhaps we are sometimes called to wait. Just to sit there in the wilderness on the side of a mountain and wait for God. Sometimes we aren’t called upon to solve our own problems. Sometimes, heaven forbid, we aren’t supposed to be multitasking. Sometimes we are called to sit and wait.

I think the story of the golden calf is a low point for all of the characters, except maybe Moses. When it was all over, I suspect that the people were ashamed. I suspect that God was likely thankful that Moses had talked him out of the planned destruction. That Aaron wished he had another chance to try again as leader.

I was so comforted this week by our text from Philippians as I sat in my own wilderness and tried my hardest not to make more than my share of idols. Where the characters in the Exodus text use pronouns to separate, Paul uses pronouns to bring people together.
Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved….I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, because they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel, together with Clement and the rest of my co-workers, whose names are in the book of life. …

Don’t you want to sign up for his team? Do you hear how he brings people together? I want to sign up to work with Paul. I’d much rather end up in the book of life than worshiping my old earrings. I wish Aaron had thought to respond to the Israelites as Paul responded to the Philippians.

Rejoice in the LORD always, again I will say, REJOICE. Let your gentleness be known to everyone.

What would it have been like for the Israelites to be reminded: THE LORD IS NEAR. And DO NOT WORRY about ANYTHING but in EVERYTHING by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Maybe the outcome wouldn’t have been any different had Paul been addressing them instead of Aaron. Maybe they had made up their minds to create their own God before they even went to speak with Aaron. But I wonder.

If Paul came to me in my wilderness and said, “finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and IF THERE IS ANYTHING WORTHY OF PRAISE, think about these things.”—if Paul said that to me when I was anxious, fearful, alone, I just hope that something would click.

Anything. Do I have anything worthy of praise?

Well, I am still in the wilderness and I’m not sure where Moses is and if he’s coming back, but I guess I am not alone. I have my friends and family. And this place does sort of look like a moonscape, but the view is great and I can see for miles. And the stars are so bright in the night sky. And my children came and snuggled with me tonight, even though they think they are too old for such things. And I guess that wandering free in the wilderness is better than being Pharaoh’s slave. And I have my health.
I guess I have some things in my life that are worthy of praise.

If there is anything worthy of praise, Paul tells us, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

So, this week, as we wait in our wildernesses, let us think about those things in our lives worthy of praise. For health or family or warm houses. For the beauty of autumn leaves. For the community of faith that we have here. For Boise State’s win over Southern Miss. Whatever it is in your life for which you can turn to God and say “thanks”—think about these things. Amen.

Still not sure quite what it is, but my friend Jill has challenged me. Who can resist?
She “tagged” me to do this thing where I’m supposed to blog about “six uninteresting things about me.” It’s called a meme. “For those of you who don’t know what a meme is, you can read this site that explains it in detail. Or I’ll just tell you: it’s a bunch of questions someone with a blog answers and then tags some other people with blogs and they answer the same questions and so on and so forth.”
1. Despite my current level of extrovertedness, I used to be paralyzingly shy. I once (in 4th grade) hid in my friend Sarah Wolf’s hedge because I was afraid to talk to some boys who came down the street.
2. The Shibboleth episode of The West Wing makes me cry. Every time. It is the one where my president gives Charlie the turkey carving knife made by Paul Revere and then handed down in the Bartlett family ever since. It also has the Chinese Christian immigrants and CJ having to lead children in song and babysit turkeys. Best ever.
3. I drove a white 1974 Ford Pinto in high school. It was not very cool, but I could fit my great dane and my cello in the back. I sold it for more money than my parents paid for it.
4. I was on Romper Room when I was 4 years old.
5. At Girls State, in 1986, I was elected to attend Girls’ Nation. I think the elected me because I wore suits. I met President Reagan in the White House. He told us to support Star Wars when we were old enough to vote.
6. I really like labyrinths. They are not the same as mazes.