Yesterday, after the business session of Diocesan Convention wrapped up, Father Steve, Deacon Kellie, and I were playfully arguing about the gospel parable that we hear read this morning. Parables tend to do this, they aren’t easy to understand and, honestly, they are meant to raise more questions than answers. Today’s parable certainly does this: Where did the foolish bridesmaids buy oil after midnight which made them miss the bridegroom? Why do the wise ones not share their oil with those who are without? Why doesn’t the Lord open the door for those who knock? It’s a parable that I’ve heard used as a threat; that folks ought to live their lives so aligned that they are ready for the judgement day at any moment. I’ve seen more than one person worry after the death of the loved one if they were right with the Lord; it is a brutal weight for someone to carry.
I come to this pulpit with many parable-provoked questions, no answers, and quite a bit of religious baggage around this parable, which is why I found Bishop White’s Convention Eucharist sermon on this text to be a bit of a balm. Every year, on the Sunday after Convention, the Bishop extends the offer for his Convention Sermon to be preached in congregations around the Diocese, and this year, I take him up on this offer, and bring to you this morning the bulk of his sermon from Friday night:
“The late Episcopal priest and author, Father Robert Capon, who writes about the conclusion of our gospel passage, “Keep awake, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour,” and he says,
When all is said and done—when we have scared ourselves silly with the now-or-never urgency of faith and the once-and-for-all finality judgement—we need to take a deep breath and let it out with a laugh. Because what we are called to watch for is a party.
And the party is not just down the street making up its mind when it will come to us. The party is already hiding in our basement, banging on the steam pipes, and laughing its way up our cellar stairs.
That unknown day and hour Jesus talks about, is not a dreadful day, but that glorious day when the party finally bursts into the kitchen, roistering its way through our whole house.
Jesus’ coming again is not like our mother-in-law coming to our dinner, looking closely to see if we are using the dishes she gave us. Our Lord’s coming will be a most welcome sight, like a favorite relative who shows up with a salami under one arm and a bottle of wine under the other.
In this passage, Jesus is of course right: We must watch for him, watch for that day when he comes, because it would be such a pity to miss all the fun.[1]
“Because of God’s grace so freely and unreservedly given in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, we are people of hope—the ultimate hope—that God’s love for all is eternal and will never be revoked. We do not point to Jesus as one to be feared, but truly, as the Hope of the World.
“Jesus’ parables are always meant to shockingly reveal God’s love and mercy in ways that defy our understanding, an understanding that is often used a means of control which taps into people’s fears. This parable awakens us to hope, to live out that hope as individuals, and as the Church. And my journey of faith in the Church has led me to the conviction that true Christian hope springs from gratitude. When thankfulness is the lens through which we see and live each day, hope both precedes and follows gratitude.
“Perhaps you are like me these days, my lamp of hope runs low on oil at times. What that says is not that hope is elusive—far from it! It’s a wake-up call for me, and all of us, to rethink what it means to be prepared with enough hope to burn brightly.
“The oil we need is found in seeking and serving Christ in all people, in loving our neighbors as ourselves, in respecting the freedom and dignity of every human being. We burn brightest with the light of hope when we ease someone’s burden. We are promised only today to enable the Church in her work of proclaiming Christ as the hope of the world, whose Resurrection has destroyed death. We have only now to live for the One who says to us when we face our greatest challenges: be not afraid.
“Feed the hungry. Speak out against bigotry. Live justly. Give generously. Heal the environment. Wage peace. Pray, work, and give for the building up for the reign of God. These are the ways we fill our lamps and prepare for the party that is coming.”
Bishop White concluded his sermon at Convention with a story about how when he was in high school, all that he wanted to do was to sleep in on Saturday mornings. His father, as most parents do, had other plans. Teenage Bishop White and his father would follow a predictable pattern each weekend morning, with his father waking him up with, “Everybody up, let’s gooooo!” The list of chores would be shared, the teenage frustration would bubble up, and the day went on, but he concludes saying:
“Most of all—I had no clue that what my father was saying by giving me chores, was that he needed me. He wasn’t trying to make my life miserable; he wasn’t punishing me by giving me work to do. Rather, he needed me or else something important would not get done.
“Daily we have a choice, to meet life and the news of the day by giving into our darkness and fear, or by lighting the lamp of hope with thanksgiving, grateful for the opportunity to serve Christ in all people. Beloved: Watch. Be prepared and be well stocked with hope. Jesus is coming again to the world he saved, the party has already begun.” And when it comes to “giving hope and life to others, Jesus needs our help.”
Or in the words of Bishop White’s dad, Everybody up! Let’s go! Amen.”
[1] Adapted by the Rt. Rev. Terry A. White for his Convention Eucharist Sermon, given to the people of the Diocese of Kentucky at Diocesan Convention on November 10, 2023 from the Rev. Robert Capon’s The Parables of Judgement.
A sermon given to the people of Christ Episcopal Church in Bowling Green, Kentucky on November 12, 2023, pulled largely from the Rt. Rev. Terry White’s Convention Eucharist Sermon from November 10, 2023.
Becca Kello 