God gives us the oil to light up the world – Matt 25:1-13, Wis 6:12-16

32nd Sunday in OT, Year C; Holy Infant.

Ever have the experience of looking for something that’s right under your nose? Like going searching for your glasses when you’re wearing them (which I guess would make them on your nose, not under it, but the point stands). Or, my personal favorite, the time recently when I noticed that my trouser pocket seemed a little light, reached down to check what was in it, thought “Oh no! Where are my car keys,” then realized… I was driving. Well, both our first reading and our gospel are about that kind of possibility, only not with glasses and keys, but with Wisdom, and Wisdom incarnate, Christ at his coming.

Our first reading, from the book of Wisdom, talks of Wisdom as a heavenly woman who comes to us. We don’t have to go a long distance to seek her out, because she comes to us. We don’t have to go any further than our gate. But, we have to show up there, we can remain barricaded away in our houses, and we have to be attentive. We have to go out of ourselves, just a little, and we have to pay attention.

Jesus’ parable too is about one who comes to us: the Bridegroom this time, in an image for his coming to us again at the end of time. Again, we don’t have to go on some great lengthy quest to find him, he’s coming, but he wants us ready, with lit oil lamps. It’s worth noting that there’s no suggestion that any of the young women in the parable don’t have access to oil. The five who get into trouble are the ones who refuse to burn it, who basically hide their lamp under a bushel basket, refuse to be light for the world, as Jesus asked in his great Sermon on the Mount.

Jesus doesn’t ask us to do grandiose great things, but to do little things with great love. That starts with a willingness to go out of ourselves at least a little, well aware of our limitations, but just go as far as the gate. And then he asks us to pay attention. Think of the rich man who never paid attention to Lazarus, right at his gate, and missed out. I think I’ve talked here before about the prayer I end each day with, just four words (thank you, sorry, please, wow), just getting bemyself notice and pay attention to three things from my day whose significance I may have missed, and recognize my need for something for the next day. It’s a way of paying attention. I often assign people in confession as a penance to think of five or so people who really need prayer right now, and pray for them. It’s another way of training ourselves to pay attention.

But, Jesus doesn’t just ask us to pay attention, but then to do something, to shine light. And he’s given us the oil. None of us need to worry that we don’t have enough oil, that we aren’t enough, that we need to something bigger than we can do, no we need to do all the little things with love, and that’s what lights up the world. At our baptism, we were anointed, brought close to Christ, the Anointed One, priest, prophet and king. At our confirmation, God’s gift to us of the Spirit was strengthened through oil that we might bear greater witness to that Spirit. Saved that we might serve, we’re called to use that oil, trusting that we have enough, that we are enough, that our light matters, that our oil, which is God’s, is enough to light up the world!

Because when we do small things with love, big things tend to come of that. As this is a Vigil Mass, we’re celebrating the Sunday Mass today, but that doesn’t stop it from still being November 11^th, the feast day of St. Martin of Tours. A Roman soldier (which means the coincidence of his feast day and the civil celebration of Veterans Day here and Remembrance Day in many other places is rather fortuitous), his life was turn upside down by something rather simple: he cut his cloak in two, and gave half to a freezing beggar. That night, in a dream, he saw Christ clothed in that half cloak, and realized who he had met when he clothed the naked. Everything changed for him from thereon out, he ended up leaving the army and dedicating himself to building up the Church.

Daring to go, just as far as our gate. Daring to notice, just a little more clearly, who and what is there. Daring to give just a little light, a little love, a little mercy. Who knows what a blaze will begin!