By the Rev. Matthew Ichihashi Potts, Ph.D. '13
Plummer Professor of Christian Morals in the Faculty of Divinity
Pusey Minister in the Memorial Church
(The following is a transcript of the service audio, Nov. 12, 2023)
In the name of our God who has made, redeemed, and sanctified us. Amen.
The parable Jesus presents to us today comes from the 25th chapter of Matthew. This odd story about 10 bridesmaids. This is right at the end of Jesus's teaching, and I don't mean just like this moment of Jesus's teaching. These are the last teachings that Jesus will give in the Gospel of Matthew. His arrest happens in the next chapter. And He's in the temple. He's overthrown the money changers tables. And for the last little bit, chapter 24, He's talking about the apocalypse. Sometimes called by scholars, the little apocalypse. He talks about the destruction of Jerusalem. He talks about the destruction of the temple. And He tells His hearers, "This is coming, so watch out. Keep awake, keep alert, be ready." And then He tells parables to illustrate the necessity of readiness and watchfulness. And the story of the 10 bridesmaids, five wise and five foolish. Five ready and watchful. Five unready and watchful. This is an illustration of this urgency of this task.
The word at the end, keep awake, that Greek word can also mean keep watch in the sense of keeping watch overnight. "Keep watch, be ready," Jesus says.
Some of you know I served for a couple of years in the United States Navy. I served on a forward deployed cruiser in Japan. And I talk to the kids sometimes about what my life was like on the ship. And one thing that they learn and make sense as soon as I say it but they never really thought of before, is that while you're underway the ship, you can't just turn off the lights and go home. When you're at sea the ship never sleeps. And so there's constant talk of keeping watch. This constant talk of readiness. We talked about readiness, different kinds of readiness, set material, conditions of readiness, yoke and Zebra, all these things that we did in the Navy, but we knew what we were watching for.
If you're a lookout, you're watching for people going overboard, you're watching for other ships. When you're going through drills, you're readying yourself for, you know what? A fire on the ship. What do we do? We have to put it out. This readiness, watchfulness, we knew what it meant in that context. What does it mean in this context? What are we meant to keep watch for?
A groom? I mean there's the metaphor here, the parable, but none of us are watching for a groom. That's not what we're meant to keep watch for. What does readiness mean? Ready how, Jesus? We're not stocking up on oil. Jesus isn't literally telling us, "Have oil. Watch for a groom." He's saying, "Keep watch." He's saying, "Be ready." But watch for what? Ready, how? And to be honest, I'm not sure the answer to those questions. Watch for what? Ready, how? I'm not sure they're in this parable.
But the thing about these Gospel lessons is they were never meant to be read as little snippets, abstracted from the rest of the Gospel. I think that this passage and the answer to those questions, watch for what, ready, how? I think they're in the rest of the Gospel. As I said, Jesus is winding up His teaching here. He's finishing His teaching. These are the last words He will say to the crowds around Him. And I think He is calling back to His first words, as well as anticipating His next words, the absolute last words He says.
So ready, how? What does it mean to be ready? If it's not to make sure your lamp is full of oil.
Last week for the Feast of All Saints, we heard the first lines of chapter five of the Gospel of Matthew, the Sermon on the Mount, the first of Jesus's public teaching, the beatitudes. Jesus's teaching begins in chapter five with Jesus saying, "Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who endure with patience. Blessed are those who thirst for righteousness. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are the merciful." And then right after He finishes the beatitudes He turns to the people whom He's just called to mercy, and to righteousness, and to peace. And He says to them, "You are the light of the world. No one puts a lamp under a bush or basket. So let your light shine before others that they may see your good works."
This lamp in this parable of the bridesmaids is not accidental. Jesus is calling back to His first teaching where Jesus says, "Mercy, righteousness, peace." That is what lights our lamps. To be ready means to be ready with mercy, to be ready with peace, to be ready with mourning, and thirsting for righteousness and endurance. It means to be ready with love. This is what readiness is. This is what shines in the darkness, Jesus says. Love, mercy, peace, justice, mourning. So that's what readiness is.
Then what are we watching for? I'm going to skip ahead a bit because chapter 25, the chapter of this parable comes from, ends with Jesus giving a vision of the final judgment. We're going to hear this lesson in a couple of weeks, but I'll summarize it now. The final judgment, Jesus says, "The Son of man will come and he will separate the sheep from the goats. And to the sheep he will say, 'When I was hungry, you fed me. When I was thirsty, you gave me drink. When I was naked, you clothed me.' And to the goats he'll say, 'You didn't do all those things to me.'" And both of them, both sides, the sheep and the goats are going to say, "When did we do that, Lord?" And Jesus says, "Whenever you did it to the least, you did it to me."
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We think of this watchfulness because Jesus has just told us this apocalyptic story. We think of watchfulness as if we are watching some field general come out of the sky riding chariots of clouds, down onto the earth. And we have some reason to think that because Jesus does talk that way sometimes. But then at the end of this chapter He says, "No, you already saw me. Whether you knew it or not, and you probably didn't, you already saw me whenever you saw the least."
It's not something that's going to happen in the future. It's something that has happened to you already on your way to church this morning, this week, tomorrow and the day after. Whenever you see the least, whenever you see the hungry, or the thirsty, or the naked, or those in prison, make sure your lamp is lit with peace, and mercy, and righteousness, and love. This is who we ought to be watching for. This is what it means to be ready. This parable of the bridesmaids as silly as it sound with our foolish bridesmaids, and our wise bridesmaids, are yoking together, binding together the beginning of Jesus's teaching and its end. Be ready with peace and mercy. Watch for me among the least. Don't miss me because I may be easy to miss.
This church, our beloved church was founded 91 years ago, consecrated 91 years ago to the memory of those Harvard affiliates who gave their lives in World War I. And of course since that war did not end all wars. As Roni has said, we have added many, many names to our walls. And we remember those names today as well as commemorate 91 years of the ministry of this church for which we are grateful.
When I was named the minister of this church, it was still closed. But they let me come in, and I walked down the center aisle and I looked up at those names on the wall. And I was overwhelmed by the number of lives cut short, overwhelmed by the responsibility of stewarding this memory, by those voices hushed as the inscription on our bell says. This is our day when we commemorate the war dead. And we remember those names. We also remember the names behind those names, the moms and dads, and the siblings, and spouses who grieved for the rest of their lives. We remember the names beyond and behind that wall, but also beyond and behind those families. As Roni prayed, we also remember that the war dead are not just soldiers and sailors, they're civilians. And increasingly in the last 91 years, civilians have borne the brunt of wars violence.
In World War I, there were slightly more civilian casualties than military casualties. In World War II, there were twice as many civilians who died as soldiers and sailors. 40 million civilians who died in World War II, 40 million names behind and beyond that wall.
More recently despite how smart we think our bombs are, that trend has continued. In our own war, the war in Iraq, 300,000, 300,000 civilians were killed. In Afghanistan, 70,000. There were 15,000 US service members and contractors killed. And we mourn all of them. Every life cut short is a life we grieve. To be clear, all of these deserve our grief and our memory.
But if Jesus comes to us today asking us to remember the least, then we must remember that the innocent bear, as I said, the brunt of wars violence. Part of what we remember when we remember the dead today is we remember how unready we have been to show mercy, to spare the innocent, to protect children, and the elderly, and the ailing, and the invalid, in the pursuit of our wars.
As Amos warns us today, a right remembering might not look like ritual or song. It might look like righteousness and justice, flowing like waters.
And of course as we all know, this continues as civilians are targeted and killed in Gaza, as they were targeted and are continue to being targeted in Israel today. And I said two weeks ago, recognizing the humanity of our neighbors means recognizing their anger, and their rage, and their feelings of vengeance. What we would feel if our families, the innocents in our lives had been killed.
But the measure of our discipleship, the measure of our devotion to Christ, of our faithfulness to the God of Israel, I believe will be our readiness to recognize Jesus among the murdered, and the tortured innocents. As He was a murdered and tortured innocent. It will mean recognizing Jesus among the least, and the neglected, and the forgotten, among Gazans bombed, and bombed, and bombed again. Among Israeli hostages and families in desperate mourning. Among all those civilians who always bear the worst burdens of our wars.
This is who and what we remember today. Not just these names etched in stone to whom this church is dedicated, but also those unnamed dead who died today, this day, this hour. When we forget these, when we neglect these least among us, we miss Jesus. He arrives and is crucified before us while we're readying for something else, or someone else, or sleeping.
Jesus isn't coming in the future. Jesus is here. It's not the future, it's now. If God feels absent from our broken world, then no wonder. Christ has come, thousands and millions of times in our lap, and He has found us with our lamps empty of mercy, empty of peace. Christ came, and came, and came again, and we slept. We slumber still. No wonder it feels like we're knocking on a locked door. No wonder God refuses to answer.