“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. 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. But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom!’ Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ … Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” [from Matthew’s Gospel 25.1-13]
Being woren at midnight is rarely easy. Partying, nightshift, neighbours’ dogs barking, family emergency, are all reasons for midnight activity. When we have the additional task of looking our best, of being ready, it can be distinctly difficult.
Half the maidens in this improbable parable are unready; Jesus describes them as foolish. I am not sure how often bridegrooms were so severely delayed, nevertheless our scene is set. They do not have the resources necessary for what awaits them.
Much of this generation in the church is waking to the realty of midnight, conscious that we are sorely ill-prepared for the season in which we find ourselves.
Waking up in this country and time, what does it look like? Both our formal and cultural educations were markedly lopsided, ensuring we were less ready than required for the arrival of the world in which we live and bear witness.
Our knowledge of history, geography and literature reveal a distinct bias toward British, North American and select European heritages. The bias extended to faith traditions; we were educated more about Protestant and Roman Catholic distinctions than the profound and diverse stories of Judaism, Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism.
Our knowledge of, and appreciation for, the sixty millennia of our First Nations peoples were truncated into cliché for most of us at school. We were soundly asleep.
I have wonderful conversations with my Iranian barber about Persian history and politics and the implications of the last fifty years, much of which remains unknown in “western” countries. I learn from Ukrainian, Pasifika, Armenian and Palestinian colleagues about histories, traumatic and courageous, which extend beyond the narrow lens with which we have been trained to see.
Much of our faith formation has been similarly lacking. What resources were we offered to wake and serve in this world around us, to have enough capacity to navigate such a challenging time? How do we navigate technological changes, corruption and the fracturing of alliances we have always known? How is the Gospel heard and spoken?
Frequently, the western church has been preoccupied talking to itself about itself. We are unsure of how to listen (and then, perhaps to speak) with the plethora of faith communities, the members of which all bear the image of God. We must be awake to world in which we live.
Our astonishing story of God with us in Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, is so much more than a biblical cliché. We bear witness to an event which transformed the creation, we are participants in the intention of God to save all of history.
Our own story of discovering our worth and that we are loved needs to be held with the same value as those whose story we have never heard and can barely imagine. Our resource is first in the Holy Spirit, and then in each other, as we wait – and act – together for God’s intention to be realised.
We need to wake up.
