Keep Awake

Scripture: The Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 32), A.D. 2014 A

Sermon:

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  AMEN.

“Keep awake,” Jesus says. “Keep alert.” But alert for what?

The parable of the wise and foolish bridesmaids is an uncomfortable one. I suppose it’s meant to be. In it, Jesus compares the Kingdom of Heaven to 10 bridesmaids who are assigned to wait for the groom to come back with the bride. Once he arrives, the bridesmaids will greet him and escort him into the wedding banquet. Good deal, right? Only, five of our bridesmaids have neglected to bring any extra oil for their lamps. And this becomes an issue when the bride and groom are unexpectedly delayed.

Wouldn’t you know it, the newlyweds finally show up just as the lamps are running out of oil. Now, the five who brought extra refill and are ready, while the other five dash away to find more oil of their own. Alas, they miss their opportunity. By the time they get back, the gates to the banquet are shut, and they cannot get in.

That bites. And this is what the Kingdom of Heaven is to be like? God help us.

When we tell each other stories, we look for justice, don’t we? A tale isn’t satisfying unless the protagonist overcomes adversity, and the antagonists get their comeuppance. We’re fine with people receiving their just rewards, so long as they indeed seem just. But this story seems so arbitrary. Why would they think that they would need extra oil? Why should the penalty for so small a slight be such great exclusion? The punishment does not seem to fit the crime. What if they had stayed, what if they had trusted in the mercy of the bridegroom? Would he have left them out?

Much of our discomfort from stories like these comes from our own self-awareness. We know, don’t we, that in some situations we too are wise and in others we are foolish? Had this tale been our own, we may well have made the same mistake. Are we then to be shut out from the banquet—and by extension, the Kingdom of Heaven?

This is all very Matthean. Matthew’s Gospel in particular focuses on parables such as this one. Think about the wheat and the tares, the sheep and the goats. They all point to a community in which the saved and the damned cannot be discerned. Wheat and tares look the same until harvest time. Sheep and goats are indistinguishable even from one another until the shepherd sorts them out. Just so, our bridesmaids appear identical, in dress, in purpose, in preparation—save for one distinction. Overall we get the impression that Jesus is coming to surprise us, to catch us off guard, indeed to trap us. And if we are found to be wanting in some respect to which we aren’t even paying attention, He shall surely rake us across the coals. What a fearful sort of Savior that would be!

Much gentler, much more soothing to troubled souls, sound the words of Wisdom this morning, which prophesy of Jesus: “Wisdom hastens to make Herself known to those who desire Her. She will be found sitting at the gate. She graciously appears to them in their paths and meets them in every thought.” Indeed, this is the Jesus we require when faced with bolted doors and missed opportunity.

We must keep in mind that the parable’s emphasis is not on exclusion but on wakefulness. Jesus says as much quite clearly. Keep awake, keep alert. But alert for what? Many will read the story of the 10 bridesmaids and take it as a warning for the Second Coming of Jesus at the end of time. This age will end suddenly, and only the Father knows the day or the hour, so have your lamps filled with the oil of—what? Faith? Good works?—for Jesus comes as a thief in the night, and we must be ready both for the long haul of waiting and for the sudden surprise of fulfilment. Heaven knows we don’t want to be Left Behind.

Yet I for one cannot help but hear Jesus’ admonition to the Apostles in Gethsemane. “Can you not stay awake with Me even one hour?” He asks in anguish. Must the Savior be alone even as the guards approach to take Him away? It may well be that the Kingdom of Heaven about which Jesus speaks in the parable is His Crucifixion. It is then, upon the Cross, that He is crowned with thorns and lifted up as King for all to see. It is then that He proclaims, “It is finished!” and “Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.” And how many people would look to that bloodied Man, to that condemned criminal dying upon the Cross, and be perceptive enough, wakeful enough, to realize, “My God. This is the Kingdom of Heaven!” None but the centurion, apparently.

Matthew may also be emphasizing this parable as a warning to his own First Century congregation. Jesus prophesied that within a generation of His ministry, judgment would fall upon Jerusalem, and not one stone would be left upon another. When rebellion flared up not 40 years later—a single biblical generation—it seemed that Judea might well turn back the tide of Rome, dealing astonishing defeats to the Legions. But the Christians remembered Jesus’ warnings. They stayed awake, stayed alert. And the Christians of Jerusalem fled to a pagan city, the city of Pella, to escape the wrath that was to come. Because Jesus had warned them, because they stayed alert after 40 years, the faithful were spared when Jerusalem burned.

So maybe this parable is about the Crucifixion, or the destruction of Jerusalem, or the Second Coming of Jesus at the end of the age. Maybe it’s about all three. Parables do tend to work that way. But all that seems in the distant past or distant future. How does Jesus use this parable to guide you and me, here, today, in real life?

I think it’s helpful to point out that the language of the Bible contains two different notions of time. One of them is chronological time, chronos, which is the regular progression of minutes, hours, days, months, years. Chronological time is a steady path, though it does tend to sneak up on us. I mean, I’m turning 35 in a couple weeks. How the heck did that happen?

But then there’s this other sort of time: royal time, or kairos. It’s called royal because people who master it become kings. Kairos is the opportune time, the ability to perceive exactly when things are at a tipping point. It’s the wisdom to know when to wait, when to strike, and when to allow things to fall into place on their own. Alexander the Great was notorious for his command of royal time. Like a chess master, he was able to defeat armies many times larger than his own simply by watching, by waiting, and then by seizing opportunities and openings as they presented themselves. If chronos is time ticking by, kairos is a glimpse of eternity.

This, I think, is what Jesus is getting at when he tells us to be awake, be alert. This is the thing for which we are watching: the royal time, the opportune time, when eternity breaks in to the everyday. Keep alert. Can you see it? There, in the homeless beggar you passed on the street. Did you see Him? That was Jesus there, in that beggar. Did you seize the opportunity? Did you show Him mercy? Now, over there, when you saw injustice being done and had the opportunity to speak out—did you? Did you seize the moment? Did you see God breaking in? For as the lightning comes from the east and flashes as far as the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.

You’re getting bored by the daily grind, by work, by school, by frustrations at home. Did you keep awake? Did you keep alert? Because there, for a moment, your daughter said “I love you.” Your wife gave you her knowing smile. Your son told you he was scared. That’s the opportunity! That’s the royal moment! That’s God, right there, in that moment, breaking into your life. Did you see Him? Were you alert? Seeking God is like watching for deer in the forest. First all you see is trees and shadow. But then—between the branches, behind the grass—there He is, glorious to behold. He’s been watching you this entire time. And now that you can see Him, you are free to act with meaning.

We are not called to do great things, but to do small things with great love. When you take out the trash, file your taxes, change the baby’s diapers, clean the messy floor, listen to a friend’s lament—what sort of time will that be for you? Will it be simple progression, minutes ticking by? Or will it be the intrusion of eternity in time, the chance to act with love and compassion, a glimpse of Jesus in your life?

We live in an age in between, between promise and fulfilment, between first and second comings. But we are not abandoned in the dark. Keep awake. Keep alert. For you know neither the day nor the hour. But Jesus will appear to you. And if you but raise your lamp to see Him, His banquet awaits.

In Jesus’ Name. AMEN.