How on earth
Thumbnail Image by vined mind from Pixabay
Clare L. Hickman
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Ferndale
November 8, 2026—Proper 28A
Amos 5:18-24; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Matthew 25:1-13
It’s somewhat puzzling that Jesus emphasizes the idea of staying awake at the end of that story, when he’d just told us that ALL of the bridesmaids fell asleep. The wise and the foolish: every last one of them became drowsy and slept. So this last line confuses things a bit, because the story had led us to understand that the issue was preparedness, was having the resources necessary to last through, until the bridegroom finally arrives.
Which is another weird part: the bridegroom is late to his own party. The bridesmaids were all there on time! So you could say this whole mess is actually his fault. But then again, this parable comes in a string of stories Jesus tells about his own return, and all of them emphasize that the followers of Jesus think it will happen soon … but it’s not going to be soon. In fact, it’s going to take a very long time, long enough for us to get into all kinds of trouble, to do all kinds of damage to ourselves and each other and the creation, falling asleep in a multitude of ways.
And so there is an urgency to the way Jesus speaks to his followers in these chapters. Warning them that it will take longer than they expect, but it will happen. And no-one knows the hour, so they should be ready. They should not get complacent. They shouldn’t start to think it won’t happen, so it doesn’t matter what they do. But neither should they become so fixated on when it’s going to happen and what it’s going to be like, that they neglect to do what Jesus has urged us to do in the meantime.
Which is to feed the hungry, to give water to the thirsty, to welcome the stranger, to clothe the naked, to help the sick, to visit those in prison. This is the sorting mechanism Jesus promises us he will use when he returns to sit on the throne (Mt 25:31-46).
Which is to say, while we are living in the meantime, between the ascension of Jesus and his return at the end of the age, the best way for us to keep focus on that goal, the best way to orient ourselves toward the second coming of Jesus, is to recognize Jesus as he appears to us every day: “I was hungry and you fed me; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink.”
As for those sleepy bridesmaids and that tardy groom, well, let’s take a look at this cast of characters, who are as resistant to a neat and tidy interpretation as any good parable should be. I want to start with the foolish bridesmaids, because they really do try their best, and yet their fallibility is left unforgiven, and they aren’t greeted with the joy of the Good Shepherd, or a rousing “the last shall be first,” but with a closed door.
Their lamps aren’t even empty at the point they’re turned away! Because they panicked when they heard the groom was arriving and realized they were low on oil. So they ask the wise ones to share, but they refuse, sending the foolish out into the night to find some. And that’s where they were, when the bridegroom arrived. They were at the store, trying to buy what they were sure they needed, in order to get into the party.
And it makes me wonder what would have happened, at a party hosted by Jesus, “had the bridesmaids simply continued to wait, with sputtering lamps and dwindling lights? What would have happened had the bridesmaids simply waited in the darkness of the night?”
Preacher David Henson suggests that this was actually the mistake they made: “They left, when they should have stayed. The bridal couple surely would have welcomed their friends into the light of the banquet, unconcerned about the state of their oil lamps, happy just to see their friends waiting for them.”
Still, it takes so much faith to wait in such frailty, such honesty. “[N]o matter how thin our light, no matter how dark the night … not seeking to be anything other than present right where we are. [Trusting] that in the end, when the light of the bridegroom arrives, it … will be enough for all, to illuminate the beauty of the darkness and to bring us in joy to the midnight celebration.”[1]
I have questions about the wise bridesmaids too: the ones who refuse to share their oil, afraid there isn’t enough for everyone, but are nevertheless rewarded? How does that not boggle the mind, set within a gospel of abundance, generosity and mutual service?
Honestly, the wise and the foolish bridesmaids seem to “operate on the same premise of scarcity and fear. Neither trusts the love the bridegroom has for his friends. ... Neither remembers the words of the Psalmist who reassures us that to God night and day are the same and the night is as bright as the noonday sun.”[2]
Then again, the bridegroom doesn’t seem to remember any of that either…
So this story looks like the rest of Jesus’ parables about the second coming: in its urgency, its insistence that the work of discipleship is life or death not only to the spiritual health of the disciple, but also to those we’ve been called to serve. But there are also these elements of the story that prompt us to dig further.
Consider the nature of apocalyptic literature, which paints such striking visions of God’s ultimate plan to make things right, to remake the earth into the kingdom of heaven. But those images are also, always, commentary on the trials and tragedies of their current day. It is the literature of the resistance movement, and there is political and social critique hidden beneath the imagery.
[As Henson notes,] “Matthew was … written shortly after the destruction of Jerusalem at a time when Jewish institutional leaders were … retrenching. They were clamping down on rebellious and heretical strands of Judaism, including, of course, the followers of Jesus. They were drawing lines of who was in and who was out,”[3] as religious authorities are dangerously fond of doing. Which opens up the possibility that this story, with its unlikely praise of the selfish and unforgiving, with its door slammed in the face of the foolish, is actually a veiled critique of the religious leaders who literally shut the doors of the synagogue to the Jesus movement.
Which would make this story less a warning to those in the place of the foolish bridesmaids, and more of a warning to those who would stand as gatekeepers, slamming the doors shut in the face of those who wish to enter.
Either way, the exhortation to keep awake remains. To live as though Jesus could return at any time, and so the only thing to do is stay awake to the constant appearances Jesus makes to us in the meantime: in the person of the poor and the sick and those in prison. It’s similar to the way in which you have no idea when your loved one might be taken from you. Which can either paralyze you in fear, or inspire you to love and appreciate them as hard as you can, and make sure they know it. So that you won’t have wasted it, won’t have put off giving them your best and now they’re gone.
In the same way, live as though Jesus might come back tomorrow. Live today as though you believe that. What would that look like? Other than really, truly, honestly: sharing your oil with the people who need it! With God’s help, may it be so. Amen.
[1] David R. Henson, http://www.patheos.com/blogs/davidhenson/2014/11/the-breaking-of-the-bridesmaids-how-scripture-undermines-a-parable/#disqus_thread
[2] ibid
[3] ibid