Mt. Olive Lutheran Church
Sermon for 23rd Pentecost
By Rabbi Neil Comess-Daniels -
On Saturday evenings, after the sun seemingly tucks itself below the horizon, Jewish tradition declares that we cannot officially end our Sabbath day until we can see, in one glimpse, three stars in the heavens or wait until 40 minutes after sunset. The distinction between darkness and light is a recurring theme in Jewish ceremonies and teachings. At the beginning of the day, we cannot launch our morning prayers until we can tell the difference between the colors blue and green, which refract light similarly. In the book of Genesis, darkness is one of the elements that already exists in the Universe before Creation begins. In a sense, light emerges from darkness. A few verses later, just as we do at the conclusion of Shabbat, God separates, distinguishes, light from darkness.
In this week’s prophetic reading from the Lutheran Lectionary, Amos 5:18-24, the prophet uses the image of darkness to threatening effect when admonishing those who would have the audacity to demand “The day of the LORD:”
18 Woe to you who wish For the day of the LORD! Why should you want The day of the LORD? It shall be darkness, not light!—
20 Surely the day of the LORD shall be Not light, but darkness, Blackest night without a glimmer.
The Talmud (Sanhedrin 99a) uses an allegory to describe why those who wish for the Day of the Lord will receive darkness:
“Rabbi Simlai taught: It is comparable to a rooster and a bat looking forward to the light of day. The rooster said to the bat: I look forward to light, as light is an indication of my time to be active. But as for you, why do you need light? Nighttime for you is like daytime for me.
“And that is the background,” the Talmud continues, “for the following exchange, as a certain heretic said to Rabbi Abbahu: When will the Messiah come? Rabbi Abbahu said to him: He will come when the darkness enshrouds these people, that is, you (and your kind), the heretics.”
This exchange between Rabbi Abbahu and the heretic has a similar tone to this week’s reading from the Book of Matthew, the Parable of the Ten Virgins. Matthew speaks of the time of the Kingdom of Heaven, which is the same as the Hebrew text from Amos, “יום יהוה,” the Day of the Lord. Matthew, as you recall, speaks of these ten virgins waiting for a potential bridegroom. In case the bridegroom arrives at night, all the virgins come prepared with lamps for light, but only five of them take oil as well. Indeed, the bridegroom arrives at midnight. Of course, the ill-prepared women ask their more-prepared counterparts if they will share their oil, which they will not. Fearing they will not only fail to meet the groom but remain in the darkness, the desperate oil-less virgins knock on the door of the groom. He opens the door and says, “I do not know you.” Matthew adds an ominous rejoinder: “Therefore keep watch because you do not know the day or the hour.”
If Matthew’s bridegroom is supposed to be Jesus, I don’t know any portrayal of him that would turn people away at the darkest hour, even if others would judge those persons as the least worthy. I’m not too fond of Rabbi Abahu, either, who tells a non-believer that he will be in the dark on the day of judgment and that God will show him, and those like him, no compassion. I also don’t care for the rooster who insults the bat, not because the bat made any wrong choices but rather because of the bat’s very nature. You might remember the rooster says: Why do you need light? Nighttime for you is like daytime for me.”
The bat cannot help that it cannot see well in the light but still yearns for the ultimate light and the ability to appreciate it. On the other hand, the rooster doesn’t appear to value the fact that nature grants him the ability to differentiate between light and dark. Instead, he flaunts his gift as if it were his superior quality. He, too, shows no compassion.
The lack of empathy is a gaping moral hole in all of these stories. To me, these texts abuse the whole notion of the Kingdom of Heaven or the Day of the Lord. I do believe that Matthew is correct when he says that we will never know when that day will arrive. I disagree with what his parable and the others say we should do while we’re waiting and when the time finally comes. All the stories indicate that we should hold on to what we think is our precious righteousness and not share it with those we judge as inferior but rather keep it close to our bosom while they fend for themselves, even on the Day of the Lord itself, the arrival of the Kingdom of Heaven.
This is America at present. Various groups consider themselves “Children of Light” and others as the cursed, “Children of Darkness.” It also seems that some people think they’re electing the Messiah when they vote. Instead, before and after we vote, we should all be busy creating a messianic time in preparation for the arrival of the Kingdom of Heaven. And when the Day of the Lord arrives, that should be the day when we are most empathetic, most compassionate.
If Matthew offers that we will not know “the day or the hour,” shouldn’t we behave as if every day is the day before the Day of the Lord, the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven so that every day we strive to be our most benevolent, our most sensitive and our most kind? The-day-before should be the day we reach out to those with whom we disagree and find a way to initiate a dialogue. The-day-before should be the day we begin to tell our truths, admit our wrongs, remove the stumbling blocks, and search for paths to reconciliation. Perhaps instead of waiting for others to count all the votes and settle all the lawsuits, we should begin to act this way today. Then, we should ask ourselves, “If today is the day-before the Day-of-the-Lord, the coming-of-the-Kingdom-of-Heaven, how are we doing?
Rabbi Neil Comess-Daniels
Rabbi-in-Residence - Mt. Olive Lutheran Church
Santa Monica, California
Sermon for:
November 8, 2020
