Dear Friends:

As I drove home this evening and listened on the radio to story after heartbreaking story of displacement, sickness, injury, and death from the war in Gaza, I found myself asking God the same question I’ve been asking for months. How long must we wait for this to end? How do we prepare for what comes next?

In our Gospel reading for this Sunday, we are given a timely, but disquieting parable about waiting. Jesus tells of a wedding feast and the exclusion of those who are unprepared as a metaphor for the those who await the coming of God’s feast of justice and peace. Some of you are familiar with this story: it begins with ten bridesmaids awaiting the arrival of the groom, who is very late for the wedding. Five of the women, who are deemed “wise,” have brought enough oil to keep their lamps lit while they wait, and five who are “foolish” have not. When foolish ones run out of oil and ask their wise companions to share, they are refused and must run to the marketplace to replenish their oil. Because of this, they miss the wedding altogether and are chastised by the groom.

I’ve always struggled with this story, because it sounds so un-Jesus like. Why didn’t the wise bridesmaids share what they have, as Jesus so often commands in his other teachings? Are we supposed to conclude that our invitation to the banquet feast of God hinges on hoarding supplies and prioritizing self-preservation over the collective good? Or that God will be careless with our time, and how God shows up, but picky about the way we show up?

I don’t have answers to these questions, but perhaps the mistake we tend to make is to critique everyone in this story except for the one we are meant to identify with and learn from. After all, if we were all wise bridesmaids, what need would any of us even have for such a parable? What strikes me is that the foolish bridesmaids are no less patient or willing, but that they neglect to store up for themselves the reserves they need to be ready to serve when the time eventually comes. And I emphasize “they need,” because each of us needs something different, something that is unique to our own bodies, minds, and spirits, something we really cannot borrow from someone else.

So, the question I ask us all to consider is this: How are you and I focusing our time, energy, and resources in ways that, despite our present circumstances, will help us to serve God and others when we are called to do so? Are we giving ourselves rest and care so that we have the energy to care for others? Are we continuing to develop and grow spiritually so that we are ready to do the work when opportunities arise? And how are we helping others store up and prepare as they need to? How can we wait together well?

We all lose focus and wander at times or grow complacent or simply too weary. These things do not make us faithless—so long as we remember what is most important and remind ourselves, and each other, to get refilled, to return to the wellspring often for replenishment and reconnection. If we hope to outlast the dark, we will need for all of our lamps, small as they are, bright as they can, to shine.

In Christ,

Amelie+