Proper 27A (Pentecost 24 2023)

Matthew 25:12-13 “12 But he answered, ‘Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.’ 13 Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”

On the day that Jesus returns, will you prove to be wise or a fool? That is really the question that Jesus is posing to you in today’s reading. What is at stake is whether you’ll be locked out of the kingdom.

Jesus illustrates it using this parable about 10 virgins— 10 bridesmaids, if you will. The problem is that the bridegroom took longer to arrive than they expected. Five of them were prepared because they brought extra oil for their lamps. The other five were not prepared. They ran out of oil by the time he arrived.

This is an unusual moment because Jesus looks beyond His crucifixion; He looks beyond His death; He looks beyond His resurrection to Judgment Day— the day that He will return in power and glory and will judge the living and the dead. He realized that the believers in his day were genuinely expecting Him to return even within their lifetimes. They assumed that His return would be that quick. That kind of faith is admirable, but there is a problem: the need to be ready for the possibility that it might take longer than they expect. They need to be ready for that possibility so that, when the day comes, the lamp of their faith will still be burning brightly— and so that they don’t end up hearing Him say, “I don’t know you.”

In the process, Jesus teaches them— not to mention you and me— something about faith. Have you ever thought about faith as something that could run out like an oil lamp running out of oil? Probably not. We consider how weak or strong faith is— perhaps how ‘healthy’ our faith is— but I don’t think that you and I usually consider faith to be something that we might ‘run out of’.

But Jesus does. He sees it that way. And shouldn’t He? After all, faith is not a choice that you or I make. It’s not simply that we’re ‘fans’ of God. Nor is it simply knowing about God. ‘Faith’ is something outside of you that has been given to you. You did not ‘produce it’ any more than an oil lamp produces the oil that it uses to produce light or an electric lamp produces the electricity that it uses.

This is far from the only place that Jesus speaks this way. In John 15, He uses the image of a vine and its branches. “4 Abide in me, and I in you,” He said. “As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me” (John 15:4). A branch that is cut off from the vine loses the source of its life. “6 If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned” (John 15:6). That, too, must be part of how you and I understand faith.

There are actually churches which teach that, once you are converted— once you come to faith— you can not be lost. They mean well— they insist on it using the logic that it would be absurd to think that we can undo what God has done— they mean well, but Jesus, Himself, clearly disagrees. All 10 of these bridesmaids were there, together. They all had lamps that were lit and burning. All 10 are believers to start with. The difference is that 5 of them run out of faith. And, because they ran out, they ended up outside the kingdom.

We most certainly reject that false doctrine of “Once saved, always saved.” But don’t we sometimes slip in to operating that way? Why do we struggle with the decision to release people from membership if they haven’t communed here in 2 years or more? If Christ were to return today, isn’t there a very real danger of that person ending up among these “foolish bridesmaids” who hear their Savior say to them, “I don’t know you”? Isn’t it better for that person to hear the warning from us before that day comes? Isn’t there good reason to question if they have, in fact, run out of ‘oil’ in their lamps?

Receiving the Lord’s Supper once in two years is really a shockingly low bar, if you think about it. Martin Luther actually suggested that, if you are not receiving the Lord’s Supper at least 4 times per year, there is really good reason for us to believe that you really are no longer a Christian. Your faith is dead. Or, to put it in the terms of this parable, you will almost certainly end up on the outside of God’s Kingdom looking in.

But let’s not make it about “those people” today. Let’s keep it about you. Do you have enough faith to last you until Jesus’ return? We’re in a very similar position to the people Jesus was talking to then. We look at the world around us and it seems clear that Jesus’ return is imminent. So to you, as well, He says, “13 Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (Matthew 25:13).

Consider the warning from the prophet Amos in our first reading. Amos asks: Are you really so sure you should be looking forward to judgment day? It’s easy to see the evil and the suffering all around us and sit back like a spoiled child, saying to his siblings, “Boy, you just wait until dad gets home. Then you’re gonna get it!” Is that really the voice of faith? Or is it a sign that the oil in your lamp is running low.

In Matthew 24, just a chapter before today’s Gospel reading, Matthew records one of Jesus’ warnings about the last days before His return. “12 And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold” (Matthew 24:12). I’ve been asking, Do you have enough oil in your lamp to get you to that day? But let’s use the warning in Matthew 24 to tweak Jesus’ challenge here slightly: Do you have enough love to last you until His return— both love for God and love for those around you?

The answer is no. You don’t. You don’t have enough faith to endure all of the devil’s attacks between now and Jesus’ return. You don’t have enough love to endure the persecution that lies ahead of you— or even just to continue to love your enemies, to do good to those who sin against you. You don’t.

And that’s ok. Because Jesus did not simply get you started on the path and leave the rest of the journey up to you. His mercies are new every morning. Right now, today, His cross is a life-giving tree for all who believe.

Martin Luther once wrote that, if you don’t feel a great hunger and thirst for Holy Communion, here’s what you should do: you should do three things. First, check to see if you still have flesh and blood. If you do, then know that they are trying to destroy you. Second, look around to see if you are still in this world. If you are, then know that it is trying to destroy you. Third, if both of those two things are true, then know that the devil is constantly prowling, trying to destroy you. Your Lord does not expect you to summon the strength for that battle alone. So He commands you to worship regularly. And He continues to pour out the grace that flows from His cross, refilling the oil in your lamp. He invites you, as often as you need it, to eat and drink the very body and blood that He gave and shed on that cross for you, to strengthen you for each new day. He pours out His love for you here, through His Word. Here is where you abide in Him. Here is where you receive the source of your life.

And that, by the way, is the message that you are sent out to share with those around you. As you are loving the people you encounter— even your enemies, even those who sin against you— you are like one beggar telling another where to find bread.

Whatever else we think about faith, this parable must be part of it. It must shape both our understanding and our actions. Until our Lord’s return, “13 Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour” (Matthew 25:13).