In the name of God:
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
“Choose this day whom you will serve.” Every once in a
while, it’s good to rededicate ourselves to what matters most. Each Lent, the
clergy of the Diocese gather for a retreat and reaffirm our Ordination vows.
Some couples choose to do the same with their marriage vows. Each Sunday, we
reaffirm our faith in the words of the Nicene Creed. The Hebrew people were
entering a new generation of leadership. Moses has brought them out of Egypt
and Joshua had been their leader after Moses’ death. And now, as Joshua is
nearing the end of his life, he calls the people to remember who they are. He
invites them to choose whom they will serve.
And the people emphatically say that they will serve the
Lord. But Joshua warns them, the Lord is a jealous God and is serious about
devotion. But the people insist, we will follow the Lord. Well, if you’ve read
about the history of Israel, you know that the people struggled to live into
that decision. Israel would turn away from the Lord. Thank God that the Lord is
merciful and full of grace. I think most of us wake up with the best of
intentions every morning. We have no plans to cut people off in traffic, lose
our temper, or say things that we’ll later regret, but we do.
Part of the issue is that, though life can seem to fly
by, time gives us plenty of chances to slip up. Jesus speaks a parable about
this very reality. There was an impending wedding celebration, and ten
bridesmaids are waiting for the groom to arrive. Five of them have enough lamp
oil, and the other five don’t. Jesus then says “keep awake therefore, for you know
neither the day or the hour.” Despite what you might hear in popular culture,
this isn’t about the Second Coming, which isn’t even really an idea supported
by Scripture. Jesus didn’t talk much at all about the future, but he did talk a
lot about the present. He talked about the Kingdom coming on earth as it is in
Heaven. He preached about doing acts of love and being reconciled.
But still, there was an assumption that things were going
to be radically transformed during the lifetime of Jesus’ original audience. Scholars
tell us that the earliest New Testament writing is 1 Thessalonians; so in that
writing, we get insight into the early formation of the Christian community. In
this letter, Paul is addressing a major concern among the faithful- why are
people dying? Didn’t Jesus’ Resurrection conquer death? Didn’t Jesus say “Truly
I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have
taken place?” The community was struggling to understand their faith in the
context of passing time. It was one thing to remain vigilant and dedicated when
you assumed that the consummation of God’s Kingdom was coming in your lifetime.
But when you start seeing your loved ones die, and you soon realize that you,
too, will die before all of Creation is restored to perfection, you start to
slip a bit.
And so Paul writes to the church in Thessalonica to
encourage them with these words- “We do not want you to be uninformed about
those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.”
This is where we sit today. Often during the Eucharist, we say “Christ has
died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again,” which implies that we are
waiting for something to happen. We are a waiting people. So how do we wait?
There isn’t a whole lot of difference between the foolish
and the wise bridesmaids. Both show up at the correct place and time. Both
bring lamps, and when the bridegroom is late, both groups fall asleep. And neither
group is chastised for falling asleep, after all, it was a long wait. What then
is the difference between these two groups? Preparation. The wise bridesmaids
were prepared for the bridegroom’s arrival, while the foolish were not. It is
worth noting though that while the wise were prepared, they were not obsessed. They
did not let preoccupation with being prepared prevent them from falling asleep.
As someone who errs on the side of being over-organized, this is a good reminder
to not be paralyzed by being ready for every possible contingency. Jesus is not
suggesting that we become doomsday preppers. But there are two lessons that we
can take away from the way this parable unfolds.
The bridegroom finally arrives and everyone is aflutter
getting ready for the big arrival. The foolish ask for help from the wise, as
there is no time to go out and purchase more lamp oil. But imagine the parable
in modern terms- if you have two batteries in your flashlight, and someone asks
to borrow one, doing so will not do either of you any good. They wise
bridesmaids are not being stingy or ungenerous, there is simply no point to
sharing their lamp oil. Nor do the wise judge the foolish. And we might even
say that God doesn’t judge the foolish, but rather, their actions, or their
lack of actions, have become their own judgment. It is a reminder to us that
some things cannot be procured at the last minute. In the final moments of your
life, you will not be able to decide to be something you were not for the entirety
of your life. And this is a tough message for us. Our culture is one of nearly
unlimited options, where science and technology are teaching us that anything
is possible given enough money. But Jesus seems to be saying otherwise.
Now, there will always be room for reconciliation and penitence.
There is always hope and always room for making amends. But if you want to be
remembered for being a hard worker, a loving parent, or an honest person then
those are preparations we make throughout our lives. And so the foolish are
caught, it is too late for them to procure what they should have done from the
very beginning.
And the second point is quite similar, but this parable
shows us that there are some things that you can’t borrow. You might be able to
think of some examples- you can’t borrow time, or love, or forgiveness. But, as
we are in the middle of a Stewardship effort, I’d like to spend some time
reflecting on the fact that you cannot borrow stewardship. Each of us has been
entrusted with gifts from God- it might be a sense of humor, a caring heart, or
a passion for teaching. I cannot use your gifts, nor can you use mine. And the same
is true of our money. How each of us uses our money is a reflection of what
kind of steward we are.
Joshua told the Hebrew people- “choose this day whom you
will serve,” as we consider our stewardship, we are invited to consider whom
our money will serve. There are two ways to approach stewardship. One is giving
to a need, and the other is needing to give. Most of the time, when people ask
you for donations, they will talk to you about giving to a need. They will tell
you about their mission and about how your money will be spent. And that’s a
good fundraising strategy. We at St. Luke’s can do that- I can tell you about
wanting to be the best that we can be. We can discuss wanting to build our
programs for children and youth. I can show you a pie chart of how we’ll spend
the money you give us, and I can make a case for why we St. Luke’s is a good
place to donate your money. A lot of organizations and people can make some
really strong cases for why you should give to a need. But, at least to me,
that’s not stewardship.
What is more important is our need to give as stewards of
God’s gifts. When we need to give, we understand our place in the world,
realizing that we are not the owners of what God has blessed us with, but
rather that are to hold our money in trust for God’s purposes. There is a story
of a psychoanalyst who is meeting with a wealthy client. And he asks “what do
you do with all of the money that you have?” The says “I suppose I worry about
it.” “Well, do you get pleasure for worrying about your money?” asks the psychoanalyst.
The man replies, “no, but I get terrors when I think of giving any of it away.”
And the doctor then writes in summary that stinginess is a sign of sickliness
and notes that generous people are rarely mentally ill. And if this is true
about our mental health, I think that it is at least as true about our
spiritual health. In all of us, there is a need to give, and if fear or greed
prevents us from giving, eventually we will go mad.
One of my favorite lines about stewardship comes from a
William Faulkner’s novel Intruder in the
Dust in which a poor character says to a wealthy one- “I ain’t rich, I don’t
need no money.” We all know the truth that expenses always rise to meet income
and that there is no such thing as “enough” money. There will always be one
more thing to buy, or one more charity to donate to. Stewardship is about
putting things in their proper place. Stewardship acknowledges our need to give
and it is one of those things that we cannot borrow from others.
God’s Kingdom is coming on earth as it is in Heaven, but
the work isn’t done. I realize that the word “interim” is a touchy word around
here after the last year, but Christianity is a religion that lives in the
interim period. Jesus has come and inaugurated the Kingdom of God, but that
Kingdom has not yet reached its conclusion. So we wait. As we wait, we are to
be prepared, knowing that there will be some things that we will not be able to
procure or borrow at the last minute. Stewardship is one of those things. If we
are to have a right relationship with our money and act like a steward of God’s
grace, then we have a need to give.
The
point that can’t be missed in this parable is that there are consequences to
our actions, and we ought to be prepared for those moments when we have the opportunity
to choose whom we will serve. As I’ve mentioned before, one of my favorite
preachers is Will Willimon. He tells a story of going with his wife to the
funeral of an acquaintance in rural Georgia. They drive out to the middle of
nowhere and finally arrive at a tiny country church. The funeral begins and
when it comes time for the sermon, the preacher gets up and becomes red in the
face from screaming- “it’s too late for John. He’s dead now. He might have had
plans and intentions, but it’s all over for him. But you still have time. Come
to Jesus before it’s too late.” As they drove home, Willimon said to his wife
that it was wrong to say such callous things to a grieving family, that it was manipulative,
cheap, and inappropriate. He said that he would never preach a sermon like that
at a funeral. And his wife agreed that it was a horrible sermon. But then she
said, “you know, the worst part of that sermon is that what he said was true.”
