the gift of repentance

It's customary at this time of year to sing the line, "Let every heart prepare him room", but probably less common to connect these words to the theme of repentance.  That's the gift of the Advent readings in the lectionary: the theme of preparation was set last week in the context of John's proclamation of a "baptism of repentance" in the wilderness.  I had the privilege of preaching the gospel text of Luke 3:7-14 last Sunday.

My own preparation led me to compare and contrast Luke's telling of the story with Matthew's (3:7-10).  Right from the beginning there is a significant difference from Matthew to Luke.  Whereas John the Baptizer's message of repentance was aimed at the "Pharisees and Sadducees" in Matthew, in Luke the wilderness preacher's call is extended to "the crowds that came out to be baptized by him" (Lk 3:7).  Matthew remembers that John called the "Pharisees and Sadducees" a "brood of vipers"; Luke remembers that John affixed that label to "the crowds".  Regardless of audience, however, the purpose of John's preaching was the same: "Bear fruits worthy of repentance" (Lk 3:8; Mt 3:8).

Luke, for his part, spells out the exact nature of such fruit-bearing repentance.  Luke's narrative will not allow  "the crowds"--like the Pharisees and Sadducees--to ritualize repentance (water baptism being one such form) apart from the will to "turn around" or "change direction."  Luke's John, more explicitly in this case than Matthew's, demands the making of amends.  John's proclamation of repentance in Luke is the repentance of Genesis's Jacob, he who tried, with physical gifts, to return his father's blessing mischievously taken from Esau his brother (Esau, for his part, had the grace to forgive without need of restitution, though that in no way cancels Jacob's obligation, for his part, to give).  Indeed, John's counsel to the crowds in Luke is, 

"Whoever has two coasts must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise"  (3:10-11).

It seems like a reasonable directive, one able to followed by rich and poor alike.  "Whoever has two coats", John says, can give one to someone in greater need.  "Whoever has food" should share with someone who has less (emphasis mine).

Advent, therefore, like the Christmas in which it ensues, is a time (and not the only time!) to put into practice the way of the kingdom which will arrive with the King, the one "coming after" John (see Lk 3:16). The preparation of Advent is the giving of gifts to others ahead of the Gift we all receive at Christmas.

-Joe

to give or not to give

For the final lesson of our discipleship class this year, we studied Jesus’ parable of the ten bridesmaids, Matthew 25:1-13.

The parable gives out a key conclusion from the outset—of the ten bridesmaids, “five of them were foolish, and five were wise” (v. 2). Moreover, the text elaborates from the beginning the reason for their respective foolishness and wisdom: “When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps” (vv. 3-4). As a result, then, the suspense, the drama of the unfolding story, lies not in that five were wise and five were foolish, nor in the specific action that marks the line between wisdom and folly, but in why taking “flasks of oil with their lamps” should constitute wisdom. In order to answer that question, the reader will have to know more about the purpose for which the ten took lamps and did or did not take with them “flasks of oil”, which is the same as asking for whom did the bridesmaids take their lamps.

The second variant of that question, of course, is also stated from the outset—“Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom” (v. 1). Indeed, to meet the bridegroom was the sole purpose for which the ten took their lamps. Having one purpose, five took “flasks of oil” with their lamps and five did not. Seeing that one purpose, we wonder why five brought no flasks of oil with their lamps, and understand why having oil with their lamps is the difference between wisdom and folly. Indeed, if the bridesmaids truly cared about their one purpose, or for the one for whom they were bridesmaids, they would have prepared themselves against all contingencies. Though they—not even the wise ones—did not expect the bridegroom to be “delayed”, five of the ten were nonetheless prepared to meet him “at midnight” when the “shout” of his arrival went up (vv. 5-6). Consequently, the wisdom of the five who were prepared (“those who were ready”, v. 10), though they slept like the rest (v. 5), consists not in their foreknowledge of the bridegroom’s time of arrival but in their knowing what they needed to complete the task for which they were called. That sole task—to accompany the bridegroom into “the wedding banquet”—requires enough oil-powered light to illumine the narrow way (Mt. 7:13-14) forward through darkness.

To have enough oil to show the way absolutely forbids, in this case, sharing what one has with others who have not; the oil in this parable is not bread for the hungry, water for the thirsty, clothes for the naked (cf. Mt. 25:31-46). The giving of oil in their flasks to those who brought no flasks with oil but could have is akin to “throwing your pearls before swine” who will only trample (Mt. 7:6), to attempting to do for others what they must do but have failed to do for themselves. To give, in this story, is to try to do for someone else what only that person can do for herself. To give here is to intercede where no intercession is possible, to intervene between a person and her bridegroom—her Lord—where no intervention can work. That the five who brought flasks of oil with their lamps perceive that to give to those who did not bring flasks of oil with their lamps is a dead-end is precisely what makes them wise. They know, that is, that the whole purpose for which they—and their fellow bridesmaids who brought no flasks of oil—exist as servants—to go with the bridegroom into the wedding banquet—will not succeed if they give their oil. It is better to have five lamps, burning oil, making enough light to see the task through than to forfeit the task itself by spreading the oil so thin among ten that all the lamps will go out before the bridegroom enters his glory.

This, then, is the knowledge that pertains to knowledge, the wisdom of wisdom: It is better to put a lot into a few than to put a little into many.

If we should follow the wisdom of the first half of this statement, we will enter the wedding banquet with the bridegroom. If we follow the second half, neither we—once thought wise, once prepared—nor the foolish will enter.

Let, therefore, those who bring flasks of oil with their lamps go with the bridegroom into his wedding banquet.

-Joe