Sermon for Sunday, November 8, 2026

November 8, 2026
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott



Matthew 25:1-13



Long ago, in the early days of this century, I gave my students a writing assignment: imagine that you wake up one day and find that you’re in charge—of the school, or maybe think bigger, like you’re elected to a position of power, like being mayor or president. First we discussed the idea, which many students dismissed as impossible. They could never be elected—they have no experience. Then we read a short piece by Jello Biafra, leader of the punk band the Dead Kennedys, which includes this key quote: "It's time to start thinking, 'What do I do if I suddenly find myself in charge?'" --which Biafra then answers by talking about punk rockers elected to office. And then students brainstormed and began writing.


I always ended the class by telling my students to keep their essays, because some day, they might find themselves in charge, and they’d have a head start on making plans. In numerous parables, we see Jesus telling us the same message, along with a bit of intensity. Stay alert. Your vision is needed, and God is going to call on you to deliver.


When I’ve worked with this parable in New Testament classes I’ve taken in seminary or on retreats, many people seem puzzled by what seems like a twist at the end. We think that Jesus is giving us a parable about the need to share our resources. And then, suddenly, we get a very different parable.


I’ve also seen people try to deconstruct the parable from a gender angle, asking the question, why is it only females who are foolish? But parables are full of all sorts of foolish people, male and female alike: rich men who build barns and die suddenly, the slaves we’ll hear about next week who approach their surprise bonuses in different ways, on and on the list could go. Foolishness knows no boundaries. This parable is not telling us not to rest: both wise and foolish bridesmaids take a nap. This parable is not anti-wedding, one of the stranger interpretations that I’ve heard.


On the contrary, a wedding feast is often a metaphor for God’s kingdom, both in Old and New Testament writing. We might be left asking, what does that lamp oil represent? Or to put it another way, we’re staying awake—but for what, exactly?


We might leap to the one explanation that many of us have been taught that these parables represent: we stay alert so that we get to go to Heaven. But Jesus tells us over and over again that he doesn’t come to be with us just so that he can meet us in Heaven again some day. He’s got a much grander vision for us.


This parable comes at the end of Jesus’ ministry. It’s part of three parables that make up Matthew 25, just after the part of Matthew that scholars call Matthew’s eschatological discourse, a church phrase that means a discussion of the end of time, when God’s creation process is finally complete. We often talk about Jesus telling us that the Kingdom of God is at hand—it’s a Kingdom that’s in a state of both “now” and ______--that’s right-- “not yet.” As we talked about last week, as we miss the saints that are no longer with us, God may wipe the tears out of every eye, but it hasn’t happened so far. Our eyes are still full of tears. Clearly, we’re not in the perfect place right now.


This parable might be about Heaven or it might be about some kind of end time when God is no longer working on creation because perfection has been attained. But Jesus might be telling us about a possibility that traditional approaches to this parable don’t always consider.


Jesus comes to tell us that we don’t have to wait until a distant day to be part of the community that God has begun forming. God wants community with us so badly that God comes to us in the form of Jesus with an invitation to be part of this new and inbreaking creation. As we look at God’s creative processes, God’s community building, we see God’s patience for us, a patience with us.


But if we’re sleeping, we may miss it. If we’re not prepared and alert, we’ll find ourselves locked out, in hearing distance of the wedding banquet but not being able to be part of the festivities.



Most of us have some experience with feeling left out, being on the wrong side of the group that gets to go to the party. Jesus delivers the Good News over and over again that the Kingdom of God is open to all, if we’re awake and prepared. If we move away from seeing this parable as being about Heaven and eternal damnation, we can even give it a hopeful spin, hopeful especially for those of us worried that we’re more like those foolish bridesmaids, gone off to purchase what we forgot to bring.


One of my Quilt Camp friends always reminds us that parables are not a one and done, in terms of what they mean. Jesus isn’t a college professor, waiting for us to come up with the right way to interpret the parable. We don’t get an A for getting the correct answer, the only correct answer. Parables give us wide range in how we interpret them. They’re designed to make us think.


For those of us who worry that the parable is telling us that we’re foolish and destined for life on the non-party side of the locked door, let’s look at this parable in the context of those first believers.


Throughout his ministry, Jesus extends an invitation to foolish bridesmaids like Matthew the tax collector, Peter who denied knowing him, Martha who wants to micromanage the miracles, and a variety of Pharisees and other officials. Eventually, if people are lucky, they hear and believe the message that we don’t need to go off frantically searching for lamp oil or whatever else we’ve forgotten. God’s grace and love is not dependent on our actions.


If we find ourselves on the other side of the door, a party going on inside and darkness outside, take heart. We can still learn the lesson. We may find ourselves at a different party, with new bridesmaids to serve beside us, but we don’t need to stay on the wrong side of the door forever.


When I would invite my writing students to envision a different future, one designed for a flourishing that would work better for them, some of them wrote papers that were breath taking in their hopes and dreams. As I was working on this sermon, I found myself thinking about the fact that they’ve had time to make those hopes and dreams a reality. I found myself praying that some of those hopes and dreams have been realized—the world will be a better place for us all.


History shows us that events can change quickly, and those who have been keeping watch and getting and staying ready are the ones who can help shape events. But even if we’re not at the epicenter of world changing events, the lives of those first believers show us how we don’t have to have worldly power to make the world better.


Our world needs what Jesus proclaims: God’s kingdom is here, here to give us life giving light in our shadowed and shady world. So let us keep our lamps trimmed and burning, in the words of that old gospel blues song. Our lamps are one of the ways God’s light spills into the world. So stay awake—while dreaming of what a fully realized Kingdom of God will look like. Stay awake—while dreaming of that transformation. Stay awake—we don’t want to miss this wedding feast.