It's more than the light that's fading

Sermon from November 12, 2023 + First Sunday of Advent | Lectionary 32 + Pr. Craig Mueller

Is the fading light affecting you?

Fading is a word that poets often use to describe the month of November.

Lorna Davis:

“The golden days of late October fade
As bleak November’s iron skies descend.”

And Elizabeth Drew Stoddard:

“Much have I spoken of the faded leaf;

Long have I listened to the wailing wind,

And watched it ploughing through the heavy cloud,

For autumn charms my melancholy mind.”

These fading November days awaken in us

a kind of wistfulness.

The time change last weekend didn’t help.

The late afternoon faded light

makes me sometimes feel it is time for bed, hours before it actually is.

I relate to the drowsy bridesmaids,

weary from the bridegroom’s delay.

I, too, am weary waiting for justice, for kindness, for peace, for a better future to dawn.

It’s more than the light that is fading.

Our hope is being tested as never before.

One columnist says that we are living in brutalizing times.

We hear of scenes of mass savagery.

The situation in Gaza described as catastrophic.

Anti-Jewish rhetoric and actions on the rise in many places.

Our red-blue state disagreements make us vicious toward one another.

And all around us people are awash in an avalanche of negative emotions:

shock, pain, contempt, anger, anxiety, fear.1

We can’t imagine a good ending to the war in the Middle East,

or to the Doomsday future we imagine with climate change.

We barely can grasp going through another election cycle like we had the last two times.

It sounds the prophet Amos describing the day of the Lord:

darkness, not light,

with no brightness in it.

There are plenty reasons to give a thumbs down rating to today’s parable.

Why are the so-called “wise” bridesmaids stingy and mean?

Why don’t share their oil with the other five?

And why does the bride—whoever she is to symbolize—put up with the Big Delay?

And of course, what about the dramatic Door Slam,

in which half the bridesmaids—the foolish ones— aren’t welcomed to the wedding feast,

even though it was the groom who was delayed?2

Despite, some of the plot problems in this parable,

for centuries it has been a source of inspiration for hymnwriters, poets, and artists.

Despite the delay, despite the fading light,

despite our weary waiting for Jesus to return,

or for a new world to dawn,

there is light shining in our dark world.

So we light Advent candles.

Advent? Already?

When your friends ask you, what your church is doing now,

here are a few talking points (see the bulletin so you don’t have to take notes).

One, already November themes in our lectionary are about the coming dominion of God.

Two, it is hard to observe Advent in December when our society puts us in total Christmas mode.

Third, the themes and hymns of Advent are so profound, we need more than four weeks!

This is Advent:

A hope-filled, vigilant community, keeping their lamps lit,

waiting expectantly for a better day.

Consider two of our most beloved Advent hymns, that we are singing today:

Wake, awake for nighty is flying.

And: Rejoice, rejoice believers, and let your lights appear,

the evening is advancing and darker night is near.

A spiritual that gave hope to enslaved people comes out of today’s gospel.

Keep your lamps trimmed and burnin’

The time is drawing nigh.

African American and Episcopal priest, Dorothy Sander Wells, writes,

it’s hard to imagine how enslaved people in this country would embrace the religion

of their enslavers.

Yet in the scriptures they found the story of a God who leads the people to freedom.

So the parable of the wise and foolish bridesmaids brought the enslaved people comfort.

Surely God would save them.

In their poverty and in their struggle, they would stand tall,

with oil-lit lamps,

ready for their Savior to come again in glory,

to replace a world of empire and suffering

with a world of peace and justice.

But scholars suspect that this spiritual, like others, might have been about something else.

In the dark of night, the enslaved people needed to be vigilant,

waiting and watching,

ready get aboard the Underground Railroad and escape to freedom.

The journey would be arduous and dangerous.

It would be easy to lose hope, to succumb to fatigue or apathy.

But no, the spiritual goes on:

Children don’t get weary,

While the work be done.

When it looks like we are running out of oil, out of energy, out of hope,

when everything seems to be fading,

when the brightness goes out of our eyes,

it is tempting for us to go outside ourselves, to go buy oil at a store.

To go buy anything at a store,

to fill the emptiness with something.

Keep your lamps trimmed and burning, the spiritual beckons us.

Find the strength within.

Find the Spirit within.

Find the hope within.

And within the community.

Keep your lamps trimmed and burning as you join others at Holy Trinity

as we explore two timely and significant topics:

one on the crisis in the Middle East, following this service,

and the other on reparations, tomorrow evening on Zoom.

Speaking of community, what about the mean girls who don’t share?

If the parable is symbolic,

perhaps it is reminding us today that we can’t rely solely on someone else’s faith,

someone else’s good works,

someone else’s inner resources.

There is a moment of decision.

No one knows the day or the hour.

The world is a weary place.

The light is fading.

Revenge and retribution bringing out the worst in us.

War ripping away lives.

A humanitarian crisis, for those alive.

Advent puts before us this invitation:

to let your light shine.

To keep your lamps trimmed and burning.

To be ready and alert at all times, for what is to come.

Holding the Advent tension of already-not yet.

striving for what is still to be,

while finding grace in the present.

I’m with poet Robert Frost:

“Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days.”

It may be hard to find the note of optimism—

to trust that there is indeed a wedding feast coming,

in which the disparate parts are joined,

when peace and unity dwell in the land,

and the world is whole and healed.

Sometimes it is hard for me to have this hope.

Yet, even when the light is fading,

we come to hear the voices of those before us,

singing spirituals, hymns, and songs.

To join our voices to theirs.

to enter the spirit of Advent, watching and waiting,

keeping our lamps trimmed and burning,

for the time is drawing nigh.

1David Brooks, “How to Stay Sane in Brutalizing Times,” New York Times, 5 November 2023.

2Debie Thomas, “The Story of the Bridesmaids.” https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2806-the-story-of-the-bridesmaids

3Dorothy Sanders Wells, Lectionary reflection, The Christian Century, November 2023.