“Then the kingdom of heaven will be like
this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom.” (Matthew 25:1)
Say what..?
The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids (or the
Ten Virgins, if you’re into
translating the Greek [parqenois] literally) is kind
of a whacky parable. The really smart guys of the Jesus Seminar aren’t real
sure that it’s authentically one of Jesus’ own stories since it’s kind of
boring. I mean, what’s the moral of this story anyway? Be prepared? Shoot. I learned
that in the Boy Scouts.
The parable (Matthew 25:1-13) assigned for
Pentecost 23 in the RCL tells the story of these ten chicks who are going to a
wedding in the ancient Near East (and I don’t pretend to know anything about
weddings in the ancient Near East), and they have to wait for the groom. It’s
getting dark, so they bring oil lamps. Five of these gals are smart and figure
that, if the guy gets hung up at his bachelor party, they might have to wait a
little longer. So, they bring some extra oil for their lamps. The other five aren’t
so sharp and don’t bring a reserve supply. When the groom finally shows up, the
smart chicks have enough oil to light their lamps and help the groom (who may
have been a little bleary-eyed from pounding shots with his single bros) into the
banquet. The dumb chicks have to go off to the local Walmart and pick up extra
oil, so by the time they get back to the banquet hall, the maître d’ has locked
them out.
So just what is Jesus trying to tell us in
this story? Is it, “Get your act together, because I may come back any time,
the world will end, and you’ll go to hell if you’re not ready?”
Boy, I sure hope not. I really don’t like
those cataclysmic end-of-the-world interpretations. I don’t believe in a Hal
Lindsay-the-Rapture’s-coming kind of
theology, and I don’t believe such an interpretation is borne out by scripture.
Besides, Stephen Hawking just predicted that the cataclysmic end of the world isn’t
expected for another 600 years anyway.
But I do believe that there is power in
this story if we look for it. The coming event may not be the end of the world,
but it may be the end of something,
and it may be pretty cataclysmic in your life. Will you be spiritually
prepared? Will you have the “oil” for your lamp? And just what is your oil?
I’ll be honest with you: I think a lot
these days about the end of the organized, institutional, main-line Protestant
church that I’ve grown up with and known and loved. I wonder if it’s
disappearing from the American scene. I wonder if I’m becoming an anachronism.
Will America still need (or want) ordained
clergy by the time I retire? Is the cataclysmic event coming, and am I just
standing here with an empty oil lamp?
I mean, the future of American
Christianity looks so different from the way I grew up. There’s a new
generation taking over, and they’re not that interested in organized religion (although,
if it isn’t organized, technically it’s
not religion!). They’re “spiritual,” but not “religious.” They’re into cellular
devices like cyborgs. They’re buried under great reeking fertilizer piles of
student loan debt, so donations to religious institutions are the farthest
thing from their minds. They’re fiercely individual and anti-institutional. Not
only have they been raised outside of the church, but they’ve been raised in a
media culture which has presented people of faith as either fanatics or
hypocrites.
I keep feeling like something’s coming and
I wonder if I’m prepared for it.
I believe I am. I have the oil of the
gospel—the oil of Jesus Christ. This is more than just my baptismal anointing
(although I put a lot of stock in that) and more than my Lutheran doctrine.
This oil supply is the loving belief that God is knowable through Jesus. It’s a
belief that in suffering, loss, and pain, there is a closeness to God and a transformative
power. Jesus died to rise again, so when I suffer loss I will also gain.
The oil of the gospel is both faith and
philosophy. Jesus is both my hope and my moral guide. I may not know the time
or the hour when the great change is coming, but feel secure in knowing that I
have the spiritual tool to navigate that change through faith in Christ.
A point I find intriguing in the gospel
story is that the bridesmaids who aren’t prepared can’t borrow oil from the ones
who are. Nobody can loan us faith, and we can’t share what we have with someone
who isn’t open to receiving it. And sometimes that fact can be painful. How
often have you watched someone suffer because their loss or pain seemed to have
no meaning?
I think the best we can do, my friends, is
fill up our oil supply with scriptural knowledge, prayer, meditation, Christian
fellowship, love, and an openness to the will of God. Because the change is
coming, and faith isn’t about what happens to us—it’s about how we embrace it.
Let your lamps burn brightly, and thanks
for reading.
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