Turns out there is an art to making a flame, at least when it comes to lamps. According to Wikipedia, “A poorly trimmed wick creates a flame which is dim and smoky. A properly trimmed wick should come to a rounded point, or should be wedge shaped.” The bridesmaids in our story took care of that: “...at midnight there was a shout: ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’ Then all the bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps.”
Yesterday I shared that the “lamps” in Jesus’ parable may have been more like oil-soaked rag torches. Perhaps so, but he does speak of trimming wicks, which suggests a more sophisticated level of lamp technology. He seems to say, “It’s not enough to have access to fire, and fuel to burn – if we want our light to be strong and unwavering, we need to keep our wicks well trimmed.”
How does that translate for us as Christ-followers engaged in God’s mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation? I think our primary means of keeping our lamps ready to burn clear and bright are spiritual practices. These include well-known disciplines as well as rituals and patterns we develop for ourselves. The “big ones” are regular participation in worship with the Body of Christ, regularly reading and chewing on Scripture, regular times of prayer and contemplation in which we seek to hear God speaking to and through us, regular acts of giving and mercy. Beyond these are disciplines such as fasting, confession, retreats, and pilgrimage that help us draw nearer to God.
Note the emphasis on the word “regular,” the root of which gives us our word “rule.” Like monastics, we are invited to take on a rule of life, a planned and articulated series of spiritual practices we find faith-strengthening and life-giving. Just as we exercise our bodies regularly, these practices make us more grounded, healthy, responsive, nimble and strong.
We all have personal rituals and routines that can also be spiritual practices for us. These might include hospitality, listening, walking, drawing, music – anything that can be woven into the rhythm of your day or week that calls you to your truest self and opens your spirit to the life of God.
Do you have a “rule of life?” I developed one that included some time each day interacting with nature, regular walks and writing nature poetry as well as daily prayer, bible study and journaling, and monthly hospitality. What spiritual practices do you currently engage in, formally or informally? Make a list. Are there some you’ve been wanting to take on and haven’t gotten to? You could offer that desire or intention to God in prayer and then make a plan to incorporate it into your life. Be specific about the when and where, and who might support you in that practice.
If you don’t have a spiritual director or formalized “spiritual friendship” with anyone, I highly recommend a personal trainer or exercise buddy for your spiritual life. Jesus invites us to partner in ministry, and the accountability and other perspective is invaluable. (Email me if you want help with this.) For today, let the Tedeschi Trucks Band version of the song Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning call you to prayer. (More choral version here.)
All the wick-trimming in the world, though, won’t let the light shine if we don’t have enough oil. The spiritual life is always a combination of our discipline and the Holy Spirit’s serendipitous presence. Tomorrow we’ll talk about what it means to have enough oil to shine for all the world to see.
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This coming Sunday, we get one of Jesus’ more complex and confusing parables, about the wise and foolish bridesmaids. No, this isn’t the Kristen Wiig flick of a few years ago; this is Jesus telling a story to explain something he’d told his followers: “Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” (Matthew 24:42)
To teach them about being prepared, Jesus compares God’s realm to bridesmaids awaiting a tardy bridegroom: “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.”
So, why were the bridesmaids going to meet the bridegroom? Where was the bride? And why did they need lamps? The story makes more sense to us if we know a little about marriage customs in Jesus’ day – or what scholars think might have been marriage customs in Jesus’ day. I have read that in and around Bethlehem, around the time of Jesus and later, they would have wedding processions at night through the towns. The bridesmaids would greet the bridegroom and escort him to the bride, dancing with lit torches.
If so, the “lamps” in the story were really more like torches, rags soaked in oil and put in a bowl on a stick. Once lit, they’d last about 15 minutes, and then more oil would be needed to keep them lit, because the dance was longer than that. Maybe that’s why these wise bridesmaids had not only their lamps, but extra oil, so they could do the dance with fire, whereas the foolish, shortsighted ones were going to be unable to fulfill their dance.
It’s a good metaphor for being faithful and ready – especially for disciples called to be bearers of light, bearers of the One who said "I am the Light of the World." There’s more to the parable, and we’ll let it unfold through the week, but let’s start with the drowsiness of the bridesmaids. How can we stay ready when what we’re waiting for seems so long in coming? It’s not hard to sympathize with them becoming drowsy and dropping off to sleep. How often do we feel God is too long in coming, too long answering our prayers in a way we desire, or that this Christian life is kind of a slog.
The bridesmaids' drowsiness can be likened to the spiritual condition called “acidie,” a kind of spiritual ennui we get when our love for God has grown tepid, nothing feels fresh or passionate. If our relationship with God is lukewarm, it’s really hard to praise, it’s hard to get excited about service or sharing our faith with others. And for us, so far from the events we read about in the Gospels, it can be easy to feel it’s all ho-hum unless we have new encounters with Jesus in prayer and worship and service.
If that’s where you are, tell Jesus that today. If you are in a more connected, passionate faith place, rejoice in that. Either way, spend some time today in prayer with the One whom John the Baptist referred to as the Bridegroom.
We are invited this week – and always – to take on the mantle of bridesmaid, one who dances the Bridegroom to his bride. In Christian metaphor, the bride is the Church. What might it mean to dance Jesus to his church?
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When I was young(er), there was a hit on the radio that went “I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden; along with the sunshine there’s gotta be a little rain sometimes.”
(Yikes, I even remember the lyrics! – worse yet, there’s a video!)
I’m reminded of this little ditty by the last two Beatitudes:
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
Lest Jesus’ disciples think that following him was their road to glory, he tells them right up front to expect flack, slander, even persecution. This will signal that they’re in the big leagues, up there with the great prophets of Israel, who had a message from God the leaders didn’t want to hear. Look what happened to them: flogging, imprisonment, job loss – sometimes death. Jesus does specify that it’s persecution for the sake of righteousness, or for his sake. Ordinary suffering and mistreatment don’t buy us a reward. But suffering for the revelation he has come to proclaim and demonstrate? That will be honored.
In Europe and America we don’t face much persecution for being Christian – even assuming that we present enough evidence to convict us. But if we’re serious about our faith and vocal about how our relationship with God in Christ affects our choices, decisions, priorities in how we spend our time, money and relationships, we may face derision, even some social cost. And to assert equity and justice for the poor and marginalized, in line with Jesus and the prophets before him, can put us at odds even with other Christians.
Now, if you’ve been keeping score, you’ll notice I skipped one Beatitude:
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God."
This may be the most important one - and, thanks to Monty Python’s Life of Brian (“Did he say, 'Blessed are the cheesemakers?”) perhaps the best known. I’ve grouped it with these persecution clauses because a true peacemaker is apt to make enemies, ironic as that may seem. Peacemaking is not for the faint of heart – just ask Nelson Mandela or Martin Luther King, Jr., to cite some obvious examples. Or Jesus. Many people are deeply invested in their enmities, in us/them thinking, in the political and economic gains to be had by demonizing others. If we take up the ministry of forging peace, we should expect flack, even shrapnel.
How do these beatitudes hit you today? Can you relate to the promise of persecution, and to the eventual reward? How have you experienced the ministry of peace-making? Are there ways your church community could become more active in that focus? What prayers rise up in you today?
Jesus doesn't promise us a rose garden. He doesn’t promise us a return to the garden of Eden. He promises to make us part of God’s mission to reclaim, restore, and renew the garden of this earth and all its inhabitants. That breathtaking invitation is worth suffering for.
Now here’s a recruitment slogan: “Calling all who are poor, all who are sad, all who are passive – I’m going to change the world with you!”
These may not be the qualities we associate with leadership and success… and maybe Jesus is inviting us to reconsider our criteria for leadership. His closest followers were not the cream of society’s crop – they were Galilean fishermen, tax collectors, women with “reputations.” And yet we honor them and know their names 2000 years later.
The first three “beatitudes” deal with emotional conditions:
‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
‘Blessed are the grief-stricken, for they will be comforted.
‘Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
What does “poor in spirit” mean? I think of it as being at a low ebb, our spiritual energy sapped by fatigue or sadness or disappointment, our faith less than robust. I suspect most of us have felt poor in spirit. But we, Jesus promises, will inherit the fullness of God’s spiritual realm, the Life of God.
Similarly, most of us know what it’s like to mourn; for some grief seems to go on forever. But Jesus says we will be comforted. This doesn’t end the mourning, but can shift it into a different key, so that we manage to sing a new song even in our grief.
Meekness may be the one attribute here that is less common to us. I think of “meek” as passive, not pushy, not forwarding ones own agenda. We often associate “meek” with being a doormat. But I remembered hearing once that “meek” may not be the best translation of the Greek. In French Bibles the word is rendered “debonair.” That gives a different slant. As an essay I found online (link no longer live, alas) says, “Gone was Casper Milk Toast. Instead, my mental images were of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, or of Gene Kelly, singing in the rain. I would so much rather be debonair than meek! The debonair are people who move with grace through life. They have style. Blessed are the debonair!”
The writer goes on to say that the Greek word can be translated ‘gentleness.’ "The word can refer to a strong animal such as a horse, who is well-trained and gentle in spirit, in spite of its strength. It can also mean the quality of being teachable — modest, generous, humble and considerate. In other words, those who are blessed are those who have strength, and yet use it with gentleness.”
You may or may not feel debonair today, but I hope you have a sense of your strength and your gentleness. God can work through us best when we combine the two. Perhaps that’s what it means to “inherit the earth” – to participate fully in God’s mission in strength and gentleness.
And when grief and dispiritedness are upon us, we might pray for more of the gentle power of the Spirit to fill us, to pump up our tires (the word for spirit is pneuma, after all…), to transform our mourning into joy. In making these feelings markers of discipleship, Jesus honors our emotional truth and invites us to bring all of who we are each day into the fullness of our God-Life.
And he offers hope for us when we’re not feeling so strong, reminding us, “This is not the end of your story.” He is the end of our story, and he will lead us there, as we follow.
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