Lectionary 32A

Matthew 25:1-13

Let us pray…

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen. 

 

As we begin to turn the corner toward the end of the church year, we have three weeks of parables from Matthew’s gospel. Jesus is speaking in the time between his triumphal entry into Jerusalem and his crucifixion, in what we know as his final discourse. 

 

Remembering that the original audience hearing Matthew’s gospel is hearing these parables more than 30 years later, after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in 70 A.D., and more than a generation after Jesus’ ascension, is important. The people in the early church were living in a time of what Karoline Lewis has called, “disappointed expectations.”

 

During Jesus’ earthly ministry, the expectation was that after his ascension, the second coming would happen quickly. And it hadn’t.

 

Two thousand years later, it still hasn’t, and we share their experience of waiting for Christ’s return, 

of uncertainty and perhaps even disappointment. 

 

And two thousand years later, I would add: ambivalence. 

I would guess that many twenty-first century Christians don’t live with a present expectation of Christ’s imminent return, even as we have confidence it will happen someday.

 

The parable we have today about the ten maidens is about how we wait.

 

It is not about being wise or sensible or being foolish or stupid. The young women in the parable were all invited to be part of the wedding celebration. They all came with their lamps prepared to wait for the bridegroom.  And when he was delayed, they all became drowsy and slept.

 

These were not modern bridesmaids who are in their 20s or 30s. These “maidens” would have been mere girls, maybe eleven or twelve years old, too young to be married, and so they were invited to help with the celebration. 

 

If you have ever taken a forgotten lunch or gym clothes to a middle school student, you can appreciate how remarkable it was that even half the group thought to bring extra oil. 

 

The parable isn’t about the oil either. If we reduce it to an allegory where the oil is faith, then we contradict Jesus’ own teaching in Matthew 17:20 when he tells the disciples:

 

…if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.

 

And, if we equate the oil with faith, then we must reckon with what it means that those who have “enough” refuse to share their treasure with others who don’t. It’s not a good look.

 

And it also turns faith into a commodity, something to bargain or barter with, or that we can purchase for ourselves. 

 

But we believe that Christ dwells in our hearts through faith, as we are rooted and grounded in love. (Ephesians 3:17) And it is Christ who keeps us in faith, not anything we do by our own reason or strength. (explanation of the Third Article, Luther’s Small Catechism)

What we share with the maidens in the parable 

and with the early Church who were hearing this parable 

is that we are all waiting 

for Christ to come, 

for God’s kingdom to be realized here on earth.

 

Later in Matthew, we will watch the disciples wait for Jesus as he prays in Gethsemane on the night of his arrest, and like the women in our parable, their eyes became heavy and they slept. (Matthew 26:43)

 

In his gospel, Luke exhorts his listeners instead to be like those waiting on their master to return from a wedding banquet so that they can be ready to welcome him home. (Luke 12:35)

 

And while our psalm today calls out to God, “do not delay”, Psalm 27 urges us to be strong, take heart and wait for the Lord. 

 

We are waiting, but not as ones who do not know what to expect because we are waiting with full confidence in God’s promises.

 

God promises that the Kingdom is coming. 

We do not need to be anxious, distracted or worried. 

 

But even when we are, 

God promises that God is with us in the waiting; 

we are not alone, but have the Holy Spirit who is our advocate, our comforter and helper.

 

Following Christ, 

we are called to be ready to help bring about God’s kingdom, 

trusting not in ourselves, 

but in the trust-filled relationship we have as children of God, 

waiting with hopefulness and eagerness,

and lighting the way

for the celebration that is coming.

Amen.

Reformation Sunday

I have taught before about how to read Scripture: 

being attentive to the literary form, the author, their purpose and what else was happening in the world around them. 

And being willing to engage the text with curiosity and wonder and ask questions about what it tells us about God. 

Understanding the context helps us more fully understand. 

 

On this Reformation Sunday, I think it’s helpful to remember that lesson.

 

The Reformation is not defined exclusively by one particular day or event, or even one person. We tell the stories about Martin Luther’s life and accomplishments – his revolt against the sale of indulgences, his writing and posting the 95 Theses, his persecution and defiance of the Church, and even the story of his marriage to Katie. 

 

But alongside these stories, we must remember the reformers who came before Luther, just as we remember those who followed him. 

 

We must recognize how the Church was reformed but it was not made uniform. Today we have both Eastern and Western traditions in Christianity, and even just within the Americas, the breadth of Protestant traditions testifies to the diversity of the Church.

 

And most importantly, we must understand that reformation is never complete and finished, over and done. 

 

The call is to be semper reformandus 

or "always reforming".

This is the ongoing work of God in, and through us.

One part of the work to which we are called is what Luther explains in his Small Catechism where he lays out the foundations of faith. 

 

With each of the Ten Commandments, Luther urges us to fear – or hold in awe – and love God because of who God is and what God does. The commandments teach us how to live in loving relationship with God, and with each other. In each article of the Apostles’ Creed and again with each petition of the Lord’s Prayer, Luther teaches us what God accomplishes for us, again because of who God is, and not from our own merit or works. 

 

But we can study and learn, 

filling our heads with history and theology, 

and still not be reformed or transformed.

 

Unless God’s work in Christ penetrates deep inside our hearts, we are left unchanged.^[i]

 

And that is work that begins in baptism and continues all through our lives because often we are the hard-hearted and stiff-necked people who we read about in Scripture. 

 

We do not believe God’s grace is for us, and we struggle mightily, like Jonah, to see it given so freely to others, too. 

 

And yet, God engages “in a holy forgetting”, “[forgiving] us our wickedness and [remembering] it no more.” (Jeremiah 31:34)

 

Writing to the Romans, the apostle Paul tells us that through the sacrifice of Jesus, God sets the world right and makes it possible for us to live in that rightness. And again, we hear that God doesn’t respond to what we do; we respond to what God does! (Romans 3:19-28, The Message)

 

Baptism is not the end - goal, but the beginning of a life of faith where we are nourished along the way by God’s love and God’s word.

 

In the same way, the rite of confirmation or affirmation of baptism we are celebrating today with Jackson, Blake, Madeleine, Caroline and Philp is not a graduation, or an ending. 

 

It is a milestone – a marker along the way – during which all of us will promise to support and pray for them in their lives in Christ. Over the last three years, these five youth have learned about Scripture, Martin Luther and the Small Catechism and they have had faith conversations with caring mentors - adults outside their families – where they could wrestle with questions, explore how to deepen their relationships with God, and decide what it looks like to live faithfully in their daily lives.

 

On your bulletin insert, you can read their confirmation verses, and why they chose them, as they name some of the promises that we have from God, and express the confidence we have in faith that God will do what God promises for us. 

 

Today we celebrate with these five youth, their families and their mentors as they take responsibility for the promises that were made on their behalf at baptism, 

and then together, 

we will continue the work that began in the Church centuries ago,

as God continues to move each one of us to live faithfully 

and we are created anew, 

reformed and transformed by God’s love. 

 

Amen.

^[i] By Heart: Conversations with Martin Luther’s Small Catechism, 7.

Lectionary 28A

I first preached this sermon in Spanish; the English translation is below. 

Mateo 22:1-14

Oremos.

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean gratas ante ti, oh Señor, roca nuestra y redentor nuestro. Amén.

 

A veces, al escuchar esta parábola, pasamos de inmediato a una alegoría que nos diría que el rey que ofrece el banquete de bodas es Dios; que aquellos que fueron invitados no una, sino dos veces, y aun así se negaron a asistir a la celebración, son los líderes religiosos judíos; y quienes fueron invitados desde las calles y los caminos —tanto buenos como malos— somos todos nosotros, los gentiles.

 

Sin embargo, esa explicación me deja con algunas preguntas.

 

En primer lugar, la violencia que se muestra en los versículos seis y siete es exclusiva de la versión de esta parábola que nos ofrece Mateo.

 

Un grupo capturó a los esclavos que el rey había enviado, los maltrató y luego los mató. Y entonces el rey respondió de la misma manera, tomando represalias con fuerza militar y afán de venganza. Los soldados incendiaron la ciudad responsable, destruyéndola junto con sus habitantes.

 

Y luego, en los versículos 11 al 13 —en otro pasaje exclusivo de Mateo—, el rey vio a un invitado que está claramente fuera de lugar, pues viste de manera inapropiada para la fiesta. Entonces, el rey ordena que lo aten y lo echen fuera.

 

Si bien podríamos comparar a este rey de reacciones explosivas con el Dios que primero inundó la tierra debido a la maldad de la humanidad (Génesis 6:5) y luego dispersó a los habitantes de Mesopotamia «por toda la faz de la tierra» (Génesis 11:8-9), este rey no se parece al Dios que conozco en el resto del relato bíblico: aquel que establece un pacto con su propio pueblo «mientras la tierra permanezca» (Génesis 8:22).

 

Sin embargo, la biblista escolar Paula Gooder señala que la gente si se parece a las personas cuya historia escuchamos en el relato de Segunda de Crónicas, capítulo 30 (Gooder, 175). El rey Ezequías, quien gobernó cerca del año setecientos antes de Cristo —tras la caída del reino del norte ante Asiria—, buscó unir al pueblo y reformar y restaurar el templo de Jerusalén como el centro de su vida de adoración. Invitó a personas de todo Israel y Judá a acudir a Jerusalén para celebrar la Pascua, enviando mensajeros a todas las ciudades, pero la gente se burló de ellos y los menospreció (2 Cr. 30:1, 10-11).

 

Sin embargo, ahí termina la semejanza.

La respuesta del rey Ezequías no fue de represalia ni de venganza. Por el contrario, el rey continuó ofreciendo sacrificios en el templo y orando:

«Que el buen SEÑOR perdone a todos los que han dispuesto su corazón para buscar a Dios, al SEÑOR, el Dios de sus antepasados...» (2 Cr. 30:18-19).

 

Pacto. Oración. Relación.

Estas son las palabras que asocio con Dios.

 

Así que volvamos a examinar la parábola.

 

Cuando escuchamos la parábola del siervo que no quiso perdonar hace unas semanas, les pedí que no igualáramos al rey con Dios; en cambio, conociendo la respuesta del rey, les sugerí imaginar cómo el Dios que conocemos por las Escrituras —y en la persona de Jesucristo— habría reaccionado de manera diferente.

 

Creo que resulta útil utilizar el personaje del rey en la parábola para ver como Dios es diferente de ti, de mí y o de nuestros líderes terrenales,

y para reconocer cómo las acciones del rey contradicen nuestra comprensión de la forma en que Dios nos responde a nosotros.

 

Otro aspecto importante al leer esta parábola es identificar donde estamos nosotros en la parábola. Es fácil leerla y decir rápidamente:

«¡Por supuesto, aceptaríamos la invitación y asistiríamos a la fiesta!»

o: «Jamás rechazaríamos el banquete espléndido que se nos ofrece».

 

Pero, siendo honestos, probablemente podamos reconocernos en los distintos tipos de invitados y en sus respuestas a la celebración. Y no digo esto para que sintamos culpa y que así cambiemos nuestra respuesta; no creo que esta parábola nos este pidiendo «ser mejores cristianos», como si nuestros propios esfuerzos o méritos pudieran ganarnos el derecho a permanecer en la fiesta o incluso a ser invitados.

 

Recuerden: siempre debemos prestar atención a lo que Dios está haciendo en estas historias.

 

Una de las primeras cosas que vemos aquí es que todos están invitados a este banquete y celebración. Se les invita porque el rey desea compartir su alegría con su familia, sus amigos y sus vecinos.

 

El primer grupo de invitados fue convocado con esmerada consideración; sin embargo, no supieron valorar la importancia de mantener una relación con el rey ni reconocieron la generosidad abundante que él les estaba mostrando

 

La segunda ola de invitados fue recibida de manera más despreocupada, pues el rey deseaba que la gente celebrara con él; le importaba más eso que la forma en que los conocía —o incluso si ya los conocía de antes—.

 

Lo que más importaba era tener la oportunidad de compartir su alegría con los demás.

 

Algunos de los invitados decidieron no asistir a la celebración. Optaron por atender sus granjas o negocios, así como sus propios medios de vida y responsabilidades, en lugar de dar prioridad a su relación con el rey. Pero esa fue su elección; tenían libre albedrío y lo ejercieron.

 

Según lo que sabemos sobre las costumbres de aquella época, a los invitados que asistían a la celebración se les proporcionaban vestiduras nupciales y se les recibía en el banquete con honores. Si alguno ostentaba algún cargo o estatus, se le pedía que «dejara sus títulos en la puerta». En aquella celebración, todos estaban en igualdad de condiciones.

 

Y esa es la imagen del reino de Dios que veo en esta parábola: todos son bienvenidos.

 

Es cierto que algunos pueden marcharse, pues están demasiado centrados en sí mismos o demasiado ocupados como para participar en el reino aquí en la tierra. Pero, aun así, están invitados y son bienvenidos.

 

Otros pueden acercarse llenos de incertidumbre, pero también ellos están invitados y son bienvenidos; y encontrarán un lugar de gracia y de pertenencia, donde dispondrán de todo lo necesario para participar en la fuente —donde somos revestidos de Cristo— y en la Mesa del Señor, donde se comparte el banquete con nosotros.

 

Me gustaría detenerme allí, pero sé que... todavía debemos afrontar el caso del invitado que es expulsado.

 

El rey ha abierto de par en par las puertas de este banquete y celebración, y ha provisto todo para los invitados: la comida y la bebida, los trajes de boda y la invitación a participar y a ser abundantemente alimentados y nutridos.

 

El hombre fue invitado y bienvenido, al igual que todos los demás. Sin embargo, al entrar en el salón, no viste el traje de boda y, cuando el rey le pregunta al respecto, no responde.

 

Creo que esa es la clave para entender lo que sucede en la historia.

 

Robert Farrar Capon sugiere que el silencio del hombre es una negativa a establecer una relación con el rey. No reconoce la generosidad del rey ni la gracia abundante que lo rodea. Es como si se hubiera negado a participar, a pesar de encontrarse en el salón junto al rey y los demás invitados.

 

«Dios nunca cambia de parecer respecto a habernos ofrecido su aceptación desde el principio» (Capon, 462); pero cuando rechazamos esa invitación extravagante, nos apartamos de Dios, nos encerramos en nosotros mismos y rechazamos el reino de Dios que se nos ha concedido. Y ahí es cuando nos metemos en problemas.

 

El Dios que conocemos en Jesucristo nos invita a esta celebración extravagante de lo que Dios ha hecho y está haciendo en el mundo.

 

En el bautismo, nos revestimos de Cristo y nos situamos en igualdad de condiciones con Jesús al ser llamados hijos de Dios.

 

Lo único que Dios nos pide es que acudamos a la fiesta y participemos de su alegría abundante.

 

Gracias sean dadas a Dios.

Matthew 22:1-14

Let us pray.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

 

Sometimes when we hear this parable, we jump immediately to an allegory that would tell us that the king who’s throwing the wedding banquet is God, the ones who were invited not once, but twice and still refused to come to the celebration are the Jewish religious leaders, and those who were invited from the streets and thoroughfares, both good and bad, are all the rest of us Gentiles. 

 

But that explanation leaves me with some questions.

 

First, the violence demonstrated in verses 6 and 7 is unique to Matthew’s telling of this parable. One group seized the slaves the king had sent, mistreated them, and then killed them. And then king responds in the same way, retaliating with military force and with vengeance. The soldiers burn the offending city, destroying it and its citizens.

 

And then in verses 11 – 13, in another passage unique to Matthew, the king spots a guest who is conspicuously out of place, dressed inappropriately for the party. And the king order the man be bound and thrown out. 

 

While we might compare this explosive king to God who first flooded the earth on account of the wickedness of humankind upon the earth (Genesis 6:5) and then scattered the people of Mesopotamia “over the face of all the earth” (Genesis 11:8-9), this king doesn’t resemble the God I know from the rest of the biblical story - the one who covenants with God’s own people for “as long as the earth endures.” (Genesis 8: 22)

 

However, biblical scholar Paula Gooder notes that the people do sound like the people whose story we hear in Second Chronicles, Chapter 30. (Gooder, 175) King Hezekiah who ruled close to 700 BCE, after the northern kingdom fell to Assyria sought to unite the people and reform and restore the temple in Jerusalem as the center of their worship life. He invited people from all over Israel and Judah to come to Jerusalem to keep the Passover, sending couriers to all the cities, but the people laughed and scorned them. (2 Ch. 30:1, 10-11)

 

However, that’s where the similarity ends. 

King Hezekiah’s response was not one of retaliation or vengeance. Instead, the king continued with sacrifice at the temple, praying, 

“The good Lord pardon all who set their hearts to seek God, the Lord the God of their ancestors….” (2 Ch. 30:18-19)

 

Covenant. Prayer. Relationship.

These are the words I associate with God.

 

So, let’s look again at the parable.

 

When we heard the parable of the unforgiving slave a few weeks ago, I asked us not to equate the king with God but instead, knowing what the king’s response was, imagine how the God whom we know in Scripture, and in the person of Jesus Christ, would have a different response.

 

I think it can be helpful to use the king’s character in the parable to see how God is different from you or me or our worldly leaders, 

and to recognize how the king’s actions contradict our understanding of how God responds to us.

 

Another important part of reading this parable is to find where we are in the parable. It’s easy to read the parable and quickly say, 

“Of course, we’d accept the invitation and come to the party!” 

or

“We’d never reject the extravagant feast we’re offered.”

But if we’re honest, we can probably recognize ourselves in all the different kinds of guests, and in their responses to the celebration. And I don’t say that to guilt us into changing our response; I don’t think that this parable is asking us to ‘be better Christians’, as if our own efforts or merits can earn our right to stay at the party or even be invited. 

 

Remember, we always watch for what God is doing in these stories.

 

One of the first things we see here is that everyone is invited to this feast and celebration. They are invited because the king wants to share his joy with his family, friends and neighbors. 

 

The first wave of guests were invited with careful consideration, and yet, they neither saw the importance of staying in relationship with the king nor recognized the abundant generosity he was displaying towards them.

 

The second wave of guests were welcomed more recklessly because the king wanted people to celebrate with him, more than he cared about how, or even if, he already knew them. 

 

What mattered more than anything else was having an opportunity to share his joy with others.

 

Some of the invited guests chose not to come to the celebration. They chose to give their attention to their farm or business, and their own livelihood and responsibilities, instead of putting their relationship with the king first. But that was their choice. They had free will and exercised it.

 

From our understanding of the customs of that age, the guests who came to the celebration were given wedding clothes to wear and welcomed into the feast with honor. If they had any position or status, they were asked to “leave their titles at the door.” Everyone was on equal footing at this celebration.

And that is the picture of the kingdom of God that I see in this parable. All are welcomed. 

 

Sure, some may walk away, because they are too self-centered or preoccupied to participate in the kingdom here on earth. But they are still invited and welcome. 

 

Others may approach, filled with uncertainty, but they too are invited and welcome, and they will find a place of grace and belonging, where they have everything, they need to participate at the font where we are clothed in Christ, and at the Lord’s Table, where the feast is shared with us. 

 

I’d like to stop there, but I know, 

we still have to reckon with the guest who is thrown out. 

 

The king has flung open the doors to this feast and celebration and provided everything for the guests: the food and drink, the wedding garments, and the invitation to participate and be richly fed and nourished abundantly. 

 

The man was invited and welcomed, along with everyone else. And yet when he comes into the ballroom, he doesn’t dress in the wedding garment, and when the king asks him about it, he doesn’t answer him. 

 

I think that’s the key to understanding what is happening in the story. 

 

Robert Farrar Capon suggests that the man’s silence is a refusal to be in relationship with the king. He neither recognizes the generosity of the king, nor the abundant grace that surrounds him. It is as if he has refused to participate, even though he is in the ballroom with the king and the other guests. 

 

“God never has a change of heart about having offered us acceptance in the first place” (Capon, 462) but when we refuse the extravagant invitation we turn away from God and curve in on ourselves and reject the kingdom of God that we have been given. And that’s when we get ourselves in trouble.

 

The God whom we know in Jesus Christ invites us into this extravagant celebration of what God has done and is doing in the world.

 

In baptism, we are clothed with Christ and put on equal footing with Jesus when we are named as God’s own children. 

 

All God asks is that we come to the party and share in God’s abundant joy.

 

Thanks be to God.