Matthew 25:1-13
There is one that is aired a lot now that I love. It
shows a family going through security in an airport. The dad gets through first
and one of the TSA workers says to him, “Enjoy your flight.” Without thinking the
man says, “You too.” And everything stops. The employees and his family members
look at him as though he has somehow betrayed them. The TSA workers are
offended, his kids are humiliated, and his wife says to him, “I thought I knew
you.”
It’s a huge overreaction about a tiny little mistake
this guy made. I hope I never find myself in that situation. This poor man would
surely like to rewind the tape and try again. If only he had a chance, you can
bet he would be a little more mindful of what he was hearing and how he was
responding. It’s funny, in a squirmy kind of way.
So it is with this parable in Matthew, about the
wise and foolish bridesmaids. Is it supposed to be funny? Because in so many
ways it feels absurd.
Absurd. You have ten bridesmaids waiting around for
the groom. Is there a bride? Who knows? There is no mention of one, but
wouldn’t you think ten bridesmaids would be attending to the bride?
We are woefully short on meaningful details here.
The women have to go out and meet the groom, somewhere. He’s not where he is
supposed to be, though. Why? Again, who knows? So, they wait…and wait…and wait.
They all fall asleep. And then he arrives. Here’s where it begins to get
objectionable.
The women all get up and prepare to meet the groom,
but five of them have brought extra oil for their lamps and five of them have
not. Five of them were able to refill their lamps that have gone out, but five
of them were not. Five of them asked for help, five others refused to help.
Five of them had to leave to find more oil for their lamps (because evidently
it was not permissible to greet the groom unless you had a lamp burning), and
so five of them missed the arrival of the groom. Five of them joined the groom
at the wedding banquet, but five of them were left out in the dark of night.
And when they called out to the groom, saying,
“We’re here,” he answered them, “I don’t know you.”
I find several stumbling blocks in this parable. And
so I need to find a different angle from which to view it, hear it. So, here’s
what I know.
Knowing when Matthew was writing this, and who he
was writing to, is a part of that angle. The gospel was written 40 to 50 years
after Jesus was crucified. The church was on its way to becoming what it is,
but there were a lot of things they were still trying to figure out. Just what
it meant to be a follower of Christ, for example. That’s only central and
foundational to everything else, right? To understand what it is to be a
Christian?
Initially it meant being Jewish. But that had
changed, as the apostles took the gospel far afield of Israel and gained
converts by the hundreds everywhere they went. At the same time, tension
between the Christ followers and the institutions of Judaism were growing, up
to the point where the Christians were either thrown out or decided to leave.
Initially, the church thought being a Christ
follower meant being a Jew, but it turned out not to be so.
Initially it meant waiting for Christ to return. By
all reports, he said, “I’ll be back!” There was every reason to believe that he
would come back for them and take them with him, like a bridegroom coming to
take his bride. And so they waited…and waited…and waited.
We gather from some of Paul’s writings that they
were very worried about what was going to happen. They were trying to wait, but
some of them were dying. What would that mean? What would happen to the ones
who couldn’t wait, through no fault of their own?
What about the ones who were left, who felt like
they had been in a holding pattern for 40 years now? What did it even mean at
this point to be waiting? Were they the foolish ones? What were they waiting
for?
Initially, the church thought being a follower of
Christ meant waiting for his return, but by this time they were having grave
doubts.
From this angle, a story about the importance of
waiting is meaningful. For the people Matthew was writing to. But is that
enough for us?
I think that understanding how parables work is also
a necessary angle. As some have taken to saying about politics, it seems apt
here to say: We should take it seriously, but not literally. A parable is never
meant to be taken literally, for it is an attempt to come right up alongside
our lives, just close enough that we can see the parallels, without ever
telling us precisely what we ought to do. A parable is a work of art, in which
we look for connections to life as we know it.
And so we find some pieces that seem important. The
waiting for something wonderful that is going to happen – although we don’t
know when. The uncertainty about the end of it all, when and what it will be
like. And perhaps the uncertainty about how to be one who waits. What does it
mean for us to be waiting for Jesus?
It is the hardest aspect of the Advent season, which
is just right around the corner. Advent is about waiting for Jesus – both the
infant whose birth we will celebrate on Christmas, and the return of Christ,
whose arrival will signify a new age, a new world. It’s a very heady prospect.
And our lives are full of demands and distractions –
how is it possible to keep our eye on the door waiting for Jesus to walk in? We
sleep, we work, we tend to many other things, and we make mistakes. Like the guy
in the airport. Like the women who failed to bring extra oil. Lord, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy on the ones who forget the extra
vial of oil, the ones who forget to buy extra batteries for the flashlight.
Lord, have mercy on the ones who forget to pack diapers and wipes when they go
to the park with their babies. Have mercy on the ones who get to the check-out
line with a cart full of groceries and realize they have forgotten their
reusable bags. Lord, have mercy on us for we are a busy and forgetful people.
We can’t always get it right.
We can’t stay awake every minute.
We can’t remember everything no matter how hard we
try.
But we are waiting for you, Lord, even if we lose
our focus at times. Even if we have to step out of the line because we realize
there is something we failed to attend to, something important, something that
will help us keep our focus, keep us awake and alert for another day; something
that will allow you to recognize us when the day comes. So that you won’t ever
say, “I thought I knew you. But I don’t know you.”
Is it too late, we ask, Lord; is it too late to step
out of line and find what it is I’ve left behind, the oil in my lamp, the
forgiveness in my spirit, the love in my heart, the generosity in my soul. I
know I can’t borrow that from someone else, I need to find my own. Is it too
late?
Is it too late?
Sometimes, when I look for a different angle on this
story, I imagine this: the women are waiting, and one of them suddenly thinks,
“I didn’t think to bring extra oil. I might run out. What can I do?” And one of
the women who has extra oil smiles at her and says, “This is true, you might.
Now would be a good time to go out and get some more. It will be useful to you.”
And so, all the women who have neglected to bring enough oil go out to get the
oil they will need. They know now what they need, and they don’t hesitate. They
might be tired because it’s late, but they know this is important, so they
prioritize it. They go.
They go out in search of this oil as though their lives depended on it.
Photo: ChurchArt.com
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