A Parable of Forgetting

A sermon preached with the people of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland, California.

“Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”

Imagine: You’re at school. It’s morning and you’re having breakfast, like you always do, and you’re a little drowsy. You see some other students walking along a path in the distance, headed to a class.

And suddenly a thought comes over you. A panic-inducing, terrible thought. You should be going into that class with them. In fact, you should have been going into that class with them all semester. You signed up for that class, but you forgot to go! And it’s finals week! And you’re going to fail! And not graduate!

Your heart starts pounding as you try to make plans in your head – arrangements to escape your academic fate.

And then.

The blessed sound of your alarm wakes you up. Turns out you haven’t been a student at that school for years. Many years. Turns out that never happened.

Do any of you have dreams like this?

I do too. I have a high school and college version! And in seminary, I developed a fun “I’m the preacher but forgot to prepare a sermon” one thrown into rotation!

There is research that shows that these recurring dreams are very common.

And I don’t think these common templatized recurring dreams are really about school or work or details.

I think they are parables. Parables of forgetting.

Imagine: You’re with nine of your friends and you’ve been given special roles in a big elaborate wedding. Your job is to accompany the groom into the reception venue, using the glow of your cell phones to create a truly Instagrammable effect for the photographer.

The wedding planner thought this was a great idea but logistically it’s taking forever, so you get drowsy. But finally, you open your eyes and you see the groom coming.

And suddenly a thought comes over you. A panic-inducing, terrible thought. You are down to low battery mode, and you were supposed to bring portable chargers for half the group!  

Your heart starts pounding as you run to the drug store to buy chargers – whatever they cost, and then run back to the reception. But it’s too late. You’ve ruined the photo op they were counting on. Your friends, the bride and groom -- they’ll probably never speak to you again. You’re certainly not going to the party.

And then.

Maybe the blessed sound of your alarm wakes you up. And maybe these two have been married for years. And maybe it turns out that never happened.

 Because maybe this too is a parable of forgetting.

 It is always tempting in this patriarchal world we’ve got here to imagine that in Jesus’ parables, the man in power is the stand-in for God – in this morning’s case, the groom. And that’s certainly a fair interpretation, but I don’t think what Jesus is up to here is telling us that God will slam the door to Heaven on us if we are foolish and forgetful. I think it’s more like, God knows we are foolish and forgetful. And so, we need these “parables of forgetting.”

These parables are, in the end, about non-life-and-death matters: missed classes, forgotten work tasks, wedding details, and admission to parties –

They allow us to play out the consequence of leaving much more important matters untended in safety.

These parables remind me of how in some seasons of life, in the constant busyness of it all; I can carry on in a bit of a fog; forget how precious uncertain, and, indeed short life is. And how good, and real, and here God is. Maybe some of you experience those seasons too.

And so Jesus – our great teacher, preacher and pastor — breaks through that fog with parables. And dreams. And in the form of other human beings.

And he tells us – over and over and over – to be prepared. To stay awake.

To live as citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven as though that day God’s trumpet will sound is set on our calendar for Monday, November 13, 2023.  

To have the tough conversations that need having, now.

To tell the people we love that we love them. Always.

To engage in the projects and passions we’ve been thinking about for years. Right away.

To give our presence, time, talent and treasure to our community. Consistently.

To speak loudly and clearly for justice and love and against oppression, war, and senseless violence. Urgently.  

To serve God in all we do – welcoming, clothing, caring for, and visiting. Now.

Easy, right? Now that you’ve heard the parable, it’s just a matter of carrying it through.

Of course not. Our lives are so loud, our attention so fractured, our world so busy. It is so. hard. to stay awake.

During this, my first week with you, I’ve had the pleasure of joining the mindfulness practice that takes place here on Wednesdays and the centering prayer practice that takes place on 2nd and 4th Saturdays.

And both groups talked about breaking free from our constant distractions. Taking these moments to put down our devices, to breathe, and be still and silent. Aware of our bodies. And awake.  

This does not come naturally to me. I am very much not a contemplative. I am more in my comfort zone here on a Sunday morning; with sounds and singing and constant movement. That’s probably why God sends me so many “forgetting parable” dreams!

And so these practices offered in community are a gift and a support. They help me remember that class I signed up for. That oil I was supposed to bring. That loved one I haven’t check in on. That human rights crisis I haven’t been following. That God I haven’t been paying attention to.

What practices help you reorient and remember? Are there “parables of forgetting” you experience when you don’t engage in those practices enough?

I’d love to hear about them – I hear there’s a coffee hour happening after the service. Come find me and tell me about them.

“Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”