Gospel: Matthew 25:1-13
[Jesus said to the disciples:] 1“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. 2Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. 3When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; 4but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. 5As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. 6But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ 7Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. 8The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ 9But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ 10And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. 11Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ 12But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’ 13Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”
It was June 2nd, 2020. Violence and unrest were in full force in Minneapolis after the murder of George Floyd. Pastor Ingrid Rasmussen and her congregation at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church were at the heart of it all – as they became an organizational center for volunteers, medics, wounded protesters, as well as food shelf and basic needs station.
This understandably drew a lot of media attention. Pastor Ingrid was just finishing up being interviewed by the New York Times when out of the blue, a man came up to her holding a lantern. His name was Brian Dragonfly and he worked for a Native American youth empowerment organization in the neighborhood called Migizi.
Their organization and their new building built the year before had been burned down. When Brian Dragonfly arrived there to assess the situation, he noticed that the building was still burning and something inside of him told him he needed to capture that fire. And so he did.
And now, he was carrying it with him, in his lantern. And he came to Pastor Ingrid and Holy Trinity wondering if they would tend the fire – care for this little flame – until the Migizi organization could rebuild. Pastor Ingrid said, without hesitation, “Yes,” not really knowing what this would mean.
In Pastor Ingrid’s words, they went straight to the sanctuary, found some candles and the fire was shared…along with it the trauma of the preceding days…and the hope that this moment in (their) neighborhood’s life would be an opportunity for new life. Then MIGIZI shared on Facebook: “Despite the flames, we as a community burn brighter…We look forward to showing our resilience once again.”
That night, Pastor Ingrid knew that she needed to bring that flame home with her. She couldn’t leave it alone and so she tended to it for the night, and the next day – the congregation took over this sacred responsibility.
For three years, three months, and nineteen days, that flame has been tended to – passed around from congregation member to congregation member each week. For more than 1200 days, the fire that engulfed their neighborhood flickered in member homes. The keepers estimate that more than four hundred candles have aided them in the journey. In the beginning, they had to replace the candle every 2-3 hours. It was like tending a newborn child, they said. They kept the flame at two homes at once, just in case one went out. One member said that each morning she would bring the flame to her morning coffee and devotion spot and had it flickering during family meals. They told people who stopped by about the flame, and they read by its amber glow in the evenings. The flame was transferred from one candle to another 400 times, with great care not to extinguish it. Carrying this flame became part of their life together.
And then – just last month, the people of Holy Trinity got to hand the flame back to Brian Dragonfly and the people of Migizi. They were ready to carry it themselves. Their new building was rebuilt and that flame that turned their world upside down was at the center of their prayer service during the grand opening.
It was a much longer journey than the people of Holy Trinity imagined – caring for this fire. It wasn’t quick or easy. But it brought with it new relationships and learning of what it means to be a beloved community and to carry hope for someone until they can carry it themselves.[1]
This story was alive in me this week as I – like many of you – have continued to be stopped and stunned by the violence in Israel and Palestine and reminded of just how hard it is to be in any kind of conversation around what is happening. Many of us just struggle to understand the basics and history of this conflict. Others are deeply involved and passionate about it. While many of us are not directly physically threatened by what’s been happening, I think we all often respond to moments like this…with a danger response. You’ve heard of fight or flight or freeze. I think that’s how many of us respond in a moment like this. Neither are right or wrong, they are just normal. Some of us respond to this moment with fight. We want to stand up and against what’s happening – to call out and march in the streets, to educate and alert others to what’s happening. Some of us just want to flee. Perhaps because it’s just more than our life can handle at the moment. Or because we are not sure what we can do from so far away, or because there are countless other acts of horrific violence happening across the world at any given moment– how do we pick just one? And so we flee. And I think some of us just freeze. We are just stopped in our tracks – silent and heartbroken and not sure what to do and needing to wait and learn more. I think that’s where I’ve been – I think I’ve had a freezeresponse.
As I said, I don’t think any of these responses is right or wrong. I think we can normalize them. And I think each one of these responses carries with it a risk too. To fight can risk adding violence to violence, turning on each other and hardening our hearts. To flee risks ignoring the suffering of the world and the very places where God promises to be present in this world. To freeze risks waiting too long such that as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Justice delayed too long becomes justice denied.”
So, in the midst of all that, I’ve been wondering, is there another option? Another way to respond?
This past week in the midst of wrestling and dialoging with others on all of this, someone shared with me an article that has stayed with me. In light of the violence in Gaza and Israel, author Yuval Noah Harari said the struggle to maintain our humanity is difficult right now. He said that most Israelis and Palestinians are psychologically incapable of empathizing with each other right now. The mind is so filled with pain that there is no space left to acknowledge the pain of others. “But (you) outsiders who are not …immersed in pain should make an effort to empathize with all suffering humans, rather than … seeing only part of the terrible reality. It is the job of outsiders to help maintain a space for peace.”
And then he said this – listen. “We deposit this peaceful space with you, because we cannot hold it right now. Take good care of it for us, so that one day, when the pain begins to heal, both Israelis and Palestinians might inhabit that space.”[2]
“It is the job of outsiders to help maintain a space for peace. We deposit this peaceful space with you, because we cannot hold it right now. Take good care of it for us, so that one day, when the pain begins to heal, both Israelis and Palestinians might inhabit that space.”
It sounded like Brian Dragonfly and his lantern. I read that and suddenly I felt unfrozen. In his words, I heard another option – one that wasn’t fight or flight or freeze, but one that was faithful. And I felt like I could move again – and live into a new response in the midst of such horror and terror. The response of holding on to and caring for the possibility and the dream of peace.
It’s like he is handing us a lantern – a light of peace – saying, “Can you tend this fire for us? It might take a long time. Can you keep it burning until we can carry it again ourselves?”
In our gospel reading today, Jesus tells a parable that seems to be all about the light we carry with us and the oil that keeps it burning. There is so much that is disturbing and challenging about the parable this morning. I think it is supposed to disturb us, confront us. The power of a parable like this is that it will disrupt us. That is its renewable resource. Such that we find something different in it every time we read it. There is a lot we can talk about and wonder about, lots of ways to interpret it, but I’ll just tell you how it is landing with me this week…
Jesus tells a parable about 10 bridesmaids – each of whom is carrying a lamp. Some brought extra oil- which was wise. And some didn’t, which was foolish. Because this light needs to burn for a long time.
There is only one other time in the gospel of Matthew that Jesus talks about lamps. And it’s all the way back in the Sermon on the Mount. Where Jesus says to his disciples and the crowd gathered, “You are the light of the world…no one after lighting a lamp puts it under a bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it lights the whole house…let your light so shine before others.”
You are the light of the world, Jesus says near the beginning of the gospel. And then near the end he tells a parable about 10 people, each are carrying a light. And some of them are running out of oil.
There is so much we don’t know about this parable. But it seems to be about keeping the light burning. It seems to be about the oil you carry with you and what we do when that oil runs out. When half the bridesmaids wake up realize that they are running dry, burned out of oil – they ask for the others to share their oil.
And the others say no. Why? Because then no one will have enough oil. They all will run out. Which sounds like a cruel response. But also maybe not. But here’s the things – maybe there are just somethings you can’t share, even if you wanted to.
As one preacher has said, you can borrow someone’s homework to get by, but you can’t borrow the hours they spent studying. You can borrow someone yoga mat but you can’t borrow someone else’s peace of mind or passion. I can borrow your bible, but I can’t borrow your faith in God when mine gets low.
The trouble of the parable to me isn’t that some of them ran out of oil. Truth be told they all would have if the bridegroom would have taken any longer; we all run out of oil sometimes. The trouble isn’t even that the others wouldn’t share their oil. The trouble is what happened next. You see, in my holy imagination with this disrupting parable, I think that both groups are wise and foolish. When the foolish ran out of oil, they turned to their neighbors -which is wise. And the wise turned them away, which was foolish. They told them to go somewhere else, to the convenience store down the street. They separated themselves. Divided themselves. Because they didn’t trust that their light could shine bright enough for someone else. Jesus didn’t say you are the light for yourselves, he said you are the light of the world – let it shine for others. The wise could have said, “I’m sorry, I can’t give you my oil. But come closer and lean into me. Let’s share my light for now. There will be enough glow for the both of us.”
I like the way Preacher Nora Tubbs Tisdale puts it. She says….
There is a great temptation when tragedy strikes or when hopes are dashed…in our lives to separate ourselves from the very people whose lamps are still burning brightly. We hole up in our homes or our dorm rooms or our apartments, nursing our wounds, not wanting to be “bad company” for others. Or—alternatively—we run around frantically searching in the wrong places for the oil that doesn’t ultimately satisfy. But perhaps there is another path to follow. When your oil is running low and indeed has run completely out, stay close to those whose hope and faith are burning brightly. Get out of your house, your apartment, your dorm room, and go to places where the faithful gather. Go to places where the hymns of the faithful can lift you up, and the foretaste of that great heavenly banquet—the banquet we taste every time we gather at this communion table–can nourish you. Hang out with people who have faith, and their faith can help make you whole.[3]
When Brian Dragonfly and his community were low on hope, he didn’t ask Holy Trinity to borrow 400 candles. He asked if their neighbor could carry the fire and let it shine bright enough for them to see.
Yuval Harai said he’s out of oil. And so are many others. His lamp for peace is running low. And so he’s asking us – his neighbors – to keep ours burning. To make and care for a space for peace – a light for their feet.
In other words, when the oil of your lamp gets low, don’t turn away. Lean in. Lean in to those whose lamp is still burning bright and let their lamps brighten your way. Or when the oil of your lamp is full and you can see the others scrambling – tend the fire and make room. Keep your lamp trimmed and burning, so that it might shine unto the feet of others, a light to the world.
Otherwise, we will risk turning away from each other, in search of oil that cannot be bought and for a light to call only our own, never discovering the things that really make for peace. Never trusting that together, by the grace of God, we have what we need to light the way.
May it be so. Amen.
[1] Many thanks to Pastor Ingrid for permission to share this story, much of which came from her facebook post.
[2] https://time.com/6324254/israel-hamas-war-peace-yuval-noah-harari/
[3] https://chapel.duke.edu/sites/default/files/Tisdale–11-09-14.pdf
Untying the Cerebral Knot 