November 12, 2023

Amos 5:18-24; Matthew 25:1-13

Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise.

The kingdom of heaven seems to have an entrance exam. One that will assess whether one is foolish or wise. Well, what does it mean to be foolish? The term used here is the Greek word moros, which can mean foolish or stupid or even impious. The word for wise is phronimos, meaning wise or intelligent or prudent.

When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept.

These actions and inactions suggest that the foolish ones were not being prudent, not being duly prepared. They knew that they had a responsibility but did not act accordingly. And, they fell asleep.

But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps.

So, five of them have their lamps ready, filled with oil and trimmed. These were not lamps like we might imagine, like Aladdin’s lamp or even a lantern. These were more like torches wrapped in cloth. You cut away previously burned parts and then coated them with oil.

The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’

But 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.’

I realize this is a metaphor for the kingdom of heaven, but I always feel like I am fighting the imagery in the Bible. Why would the oil have run out? Why couldn’t they share? Why were ten torchbearers needed as opposed to five. They could have paired up—it would have been lovely as wedding choreography goes.

And yet that was not the answer. So, the foolish ones went to buy oil. Where they were going to buy oil at midnight in Ancient Israel is another question. But again, we just need to roll with it.

And 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. Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’ Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.

Sorry. You were not prepared. You were not ready. You were not intelligent enough or prudent enough or wise enough to get into the kingdom of heaven. But that begs the question: what is it that we are supposed to know? What are we supposed to prepare? What nuggets of wisdom do we need to possess in order to make our way into heaven? Very good questions.

It seems that we are supposed to be doing things. But what things? If you listen to Amos in our first reading, some of the expected activities are not what God is after.

I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.

Pretty harsh. You would think a prophet like Amos would be advocating for festivals or at least solemn assemblies. But what if those events had become meaningless? What if they were hollow gestures?

Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals I will not look upon.

These offerings were the central aspect of worshiping God in the Ancient Israelite tradition. The Temple and shrines (in the northern kingdom) were there to receive these offerings. The priests existed to perform these solemn assemblies. However, something seems to be amiss.

Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream.

And there it is. God does not want songs and music when there is no justice, when there is no righteousness. What do these offerings mean if the people are only going through the motions as a form of ritualized appeasement? If they sing while others suffer?

And yes, at this time in history, the gods were to be appeased. Religion was a way of deflecting the wrath of heaven, to keep the gods happy or at least not enraged. The God of Israel was often worshiped in this same fashion. Give to the Temple, give to the priests, and you will be spared from punishment and retribution.

Amos is saying that this is not the point. That this is not enough.

Bear in mind that the Book of Amos is old. It may be the oldest book of the Bible, the oldest full scroll from a prophet to be written down. Of course, other stories like Genesis and Exodus suggest that they are from earlier periods of time. But Amos is the oldest one that has been found.

And that old text is telling the people that they are doing it all wrong. They are worshipping in the wrong way given that they are living in the wrong way. You cannot live anyway you feel like and then tidy it all up with a few offerings to the Temple. You need to be righteous, you need to act justly. Your behavior matters.

This is a debate that arises, switching back and forth, across the centuries. Probably because people like the idea of doing what they want and then offering a few goats to the Temple or writing a sizeable check to balance out their eternal accounting ledger. That is so much easier than trying to listen to all that high-minded talk about righteousness and justice. I mean, really, what a bore.

Eight centuries later, in the time of Jesus, this concern pops up yet again. You need to be ready. You need to be prepared. Ready and prepared for what? Well, either for the end of life or for the end of times. The New Testament has a sense of urgency to it, a pending deadline that would come within the lives of Jesus’ disciples.

Depending on how you interpret the events of history, that could have been a miscalculation or a very apt prediction. Jesus talked about the Temple being destroyed—that would happen in the year 70 CE, within a generation of Jesus’ life and ministry. That was an end to the ways of the past, but not an end to everything.

Which leaves us modern folks with questions. What are we preparing for and what does it mean to be getting ready?

Recently, I came across an old book in my research wanderings. It is by Harvey Cox, a professor at Harvard Divinity School and a religious icon from the 1960s. This book is entitled “The Feast of Fools.” It was written in 1969 and it makes certain suggestions from that historical point of view.

Harvey Cox had previously opined that religion was changing as American society became more secularized. That did not mean that religion was going to disappear but that it would take on different forms. It would become less concentrated in big denominations. It would become more present in the unlikely corners of cities and secular institutions.

In fact, we do God a huge disservice by jailing the holy into certain places and certain times during the week. God does not live in the church, in this room, in the stained-glass windows, or up on the golden cross. Harvey Cox was not trying to diminish God, but to free God from our narrow views and unwarranted expectations.

Well, the book “Feast of Fools,” takes another divergent view of religion. Religion can at times seem very serious and overly earnest. It is a humorless undertaking, emphasis on the undertaking.

Sunday morning has to be just so. The music must be within a narrow band of Germanic acceptability, no living composers need apply. And the sermons must be of the right tone and message. Nothing overly humorous mind you, though an occasional witticism will be tolerated, once or at most twice per sermon.

The Feast of Fools offers two alternative approaches to the religious life. And these are both truly ancient. The “feast” part has to do with religious festivals, the seasonal parties and parades that were common in medieval times. And the “fool” part has to do with divine imagination and playfulness. To enjoy life and to live joyfully. And to imagine what the world might become as followers of Jesus.

I thought about these ideas when I looked at our readings for today. In the first readings, Amos casts aspersions towards the people’s festivals. In the second reading, Matthew cautions against people being foolish. And so, I thought it a perfect occasion to go against the grain and to advocate for celebrating festivals and being a little foolish from time to time.

Amos was not saying that festivals and solemn assemblies were no longer permitted or even desirable. He was trying to impress upon the people that these rituals and offerings were not the only expectations of God for good people in the world. You also need to create a just world, one in which people are cared for. You need to be righteous in your dealings, which also means that a concern for others should be foremost in our minds.

And Matthew is not using “fool” in the same sense as Harvey Cox. The foolish maidens were ignoring their responsibilities and not preparing as might be expected for the task at hand. In “The Feast of Fools,” the notion is more like the Fool of Shakespeare, someone who is actually a wise character. The fool or jester was an unusual character, like a prophet, in that he could speak freely to the king and even ridicule members of the court. This freedom of expression might anger someone without the royal stamp of approval. Of course, speaking truth to power even with permission can still get you into trouble.

This weekend is a holiday, one associated with the service of veterans. Did any of you mark this day in some fashion?

I know some people post flags on Facebook or offer thanks for the service of others. But what about an actual festival, a party, a celebration? Probably not.

Honestly, American culture is pretty bad about celebrating. There are days off, but other than seeking out low, low prices on appliances, we do not mark most of these holidays in any true sense.

The exceptions to this cultural failing are in the fall. Some embrace the autumn holidays like Halloween and Thanksgiving with great gusto. And the one day a year that I think many Christians take the time truly to celebrate is Christmas. Some of you may fall into those categories.

There are expectations built into these special days. You decorate the house. You have certain foods. You pull down boxes from the attic and make sure the traditions are being properly tended. I think this is fantastic as long as it is a celebration. A celebration and not a stress-filled list of tedious obligations. These should be holidays to be enjoyed even amidst all the work getting ready.

And if there is too much work, then there is too little holiday, too little celebration, at least in my book. If your view of the holiday is that everything must be just right and just so, then in my humble opinion, you might be worshiping the holiday rather than celebrating a holy day.

And that gets us to the foolish part. We are supposed to be enjoying these occasions. We are supposed to be putting down our worries and our labors. We are supposed to be gathering with family and friends for the day in question. And that might mean dressing up and handing out candy or eating a bit too much pecan pie or singing carols in the dark on Christmas Eve. Fill in your personal preferences.

When we think about our religious obligations in life, more often than not, we do so with a big sigh and a twinge of regret. Yes, I know that I should be doing something differently than I am now. Yes, Jesus wants me to do this and that.

But I want you to ignore all that religious baggage for a moment. Instead, I want you to consider a different way of embracing your responsibilities. And you do not even need to pop down to the midnight oil store. I want you to enjoy the holidays. To really and truly enjoy the holidays. It is a little late to dress up for Halloween, but next year do just that.

I have come to the sad conclusion that my neighborhood in Chestnut Hill is not a very good trick or treating place. So, this year, I went up to my daughter’s apartment. And there were hundreds of children dressed up like princesses and superheroes and monsters and dinosaurs. And I consider all of this to be a holy practice. To say hello to children, to congratulate them on their cute costumes. To say hi to and commiserate with their weary parents. To help them all have a good time.

And no, the teenagers are not too old to be dressing up for Halloween. The problem is not that the teenagers are dressing up, but that the supposed grownups are not dressing up. Shame on you. Embrace the joy. Embrace the silliness. God does not want your solemn assemblies, he wants your joyful assemblies.

And then there is Thanksgiving. Maybe you have certain traditions you follow. Dishes you cook or maybe dishes someone else cooks that you are not so thrilled about but that you dutifully eat. Keep Aunt Mildred happy and have a spoonful of yams.

Now, I realize that sometimes there are changes to the patterns of the holiday. Families get complicated. This year I am having two Thanksgivings on Thursday and Saturday because my granddaughter and her parents will be driving out. We want to keep their travelling to a minimum. More joy, less stress.

Thanksgiving should be a day of gratitude. And isn’t it better to spread that gratitude across even more days? Isn’t it better to see all the people I care about, without me or them being overly frazzled from traffic?

These celebrations are about traditions, but they are ultimately about family and friends and the good cheer we can offer to one another. So, if traditions need to bend or even be skipped for a time, I am okay with that. I am okay with that as long as we do not forget to be thankful for what we are about to receive.

And here is a quick grace if you need one: Bless us O Lord and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty. Through Christ, Our Lord, Amen. Catholic school memories are the last to fade.

And then there is Christmas. There are the religious aspects to Christmas, like the Nativity story, like the shepherds and the magi, like the angels and the escape to Egypt.

But then there are the other traditions. The trees and the garlands, the wreaths and the lights. None of that is in the Bible. Much of it is borrowed from Celtic and German traditions. Maybe you have your own cultural or regional or ethnic practices. Enjoy them thoroughly. Festoon with abandon.

And when it comes to Christmas in particular, it should be a time and a season for religious imagination. Harvey Cox spoke of holy fools, of people who could imagine a different world around them. Different practices than the norm, such as loving your neighbor as yourself. That is sadly something we need to imagine into being because it does not occur in most day-to-day settings.

We are called upon to imagine other unlikely ways of being. Peace on Earth, goodwill toward folks of every kind. We must imagine a world like that because it does not exist. It does not exist.

Why doesn’t it exist? Why isn’t there peace in the Middle East or Ukraine? Why is there hunger in Africa and homelessness in America? Why is there illness or injury, anger or hatred? Why do we have to imagine these things into existence?

This is all possible, mind you. That may sound absurd, but it is true. Every war can stop. It just takes people to choose to stop. Every person can be fed. There is more than enough food in the world to feed everyone, but that is not how we have organized our world. Every person could have a place to live in Massachusetts and in America. We just have not thought it important enough to build our society around such an idea.

There are doctors aplenty. There are new medical miracles every year in our country. But we somehow chose to implement a healthcare system that does not include everyone. We chose this way of being. And we choose to keep it going in the most ludicrously complicated form on the entire planet. This is because we refuse to imagine a different way of being and then to take the steps needed to make our imaginings into realities.

I do not mean to suggest that it would be easy to wipe out hunger and poverty, war and disease, long-standing animosity and distrust. But it is entirely possible. Peace on Earth is entirely possible. Think about that.

A person can be called a fool for many reasons. They might be like the foolish handmaidens who did not prepare for the bridegroom. They could be like the ancient Israelites who cared more about burnt offerings than justice for all.

And they might be a person called foolishly naïve for thinking that anything could change in this world.

That we might build a society based upon caring for others rather than every person for themselves.

That we might spend our holidays in celebration of peace, love, and joy rather than in mercantile distractions and consumer-based stresses.

That we might embrace the lessons of the past. Lessons which were also not followed long ago. Lessons that we might follow so that we might finally be true to the message of the season and the message of our great teacher. Peace on Earth and goodwill toward all.

The first step is to imagine it. And the final step is to let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream. May it be so this day, this year, this lifetime. Amen.