Light and Delight: SALT's Commentary for Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Year A): Matthew 25:1-13
Big Picture:
1) Jesus has now come to the end of his formal teaching ministry. The story of his suffering, death, and resurrection is about to begin in earnest, and he is sitting on the Mount of Olives, overlooking the Temple, speaking privately with his disciples (Matt 24:3). How will he end his formal instruction, here on the precipice of the passion? With a trio of parables about the end of time, the Parousia (literally, “presence” or “essence alongside”), sometimes known as “The Second Coming.” As Matthew tells it, this week’s reading is the first of these final three parables — and over the next three weeks, we’ll take them in turn, one at a time.
2) “The Second Coming” is an idea sometimes considered the exclusive property of extremist Christians obsessed with apocalypse and rapture — but in fact, the doctrine of Christ’s return is an indispensable part of Christian thought and life. Why? First, because it can help keep us humble and open: the Messiah has come, yes, but this is no time for self-satisfied, close-minded triumphalism; the rest of the story is yet to be told, for we await the Messiah’s return. Second, because it can help kindle hope and courage: even on our most desolate day, we can take heart knowing that Jesus is coming again to usher in peace and joy, an era the ancient prophets compare to a great wedding banquet for all people, when God will “wipe every tear from their eyes” (Isa 61:10-11; Rev 21:3-4). And third, because it can help us cultivate a spirituality of attention and mindfulness, keeping awake and watchful for glimpses of that Great Jubilee beginning to dawn, even here, even now.
3) As we’ll see in a few weeks, this “keeping awake” theme is central to the Advent season. Bernard of Clairvaux, the twelfth-century abbot and theologian, wrote eloquently of “three Advents”: first of all, the Incarnation, the Advent at Christmas; and last of all, the Parousia, the Advent at the end of the age (Matthew’s subject in this week’s passage). And the second or “middle” Advent, the one in between these other two, is the everyday arrival of Jesus: the knock at the door, the still small voice, the lonely prisoner, the hungry mother, the weary refugee, the migrant worker, the asylum seeker (we’ll turn to that parable, the last of the trio, in two weeks). In other words, Jesus is coming, again and again and again. With this in mind, Christian life is largely a matter of being ready to welcome him when he does.
Scripture:
1) Ten bridesmaids — five foolish, five wise — go to meet the bridegroom. The traditional situation referenced here is the return of a newly married couple to the groom’s father’s house; the bridesmaids’ role is to welcome them into the household and take part in the wedding banquet to follow. As we saw a couple of weeks ago, in the ancient world, a wedding celebration was a common poetic figure for the end of the age.
2) The wise bridesmaids bring plenty of oil for their lamps, for (who knows?) the happy couple might be delayed and arrive late at night. The foolish bridesmaids don’t bring any extra oil, and when the bridegroom is delayed, they have to dash out to the oil dealer — and sure enough, the banquet begins while they’re out. By the time they return, it’s too late. The door is shut.
3) In the context of the parable, the fact that “the bridegroom was delayed” is likely an allegorical reference to the early church experiencing Jesus’ ultimate return as “delayed.” But on another level, no matter the schedule of Jesus’ consummate arrival, the parable points to an ongoing way of being in the world: continuously prepared and expectant, mindful and perceptive, patient and ready — in a word, “awake.”
4) This kind of “keeping awake” is different than just “not sleeping” — after all, the wise bridesmaids, too, fall asleep waiting for the bridegroom (Matt 25:5)! The difference is that the wise women bring extra lamp oil — so they may see and greet the bridegroom with light when he arrives, and ultimately (here’s the key point!) so the banquet may begin. The light is for the sake of the celebration. The light is for the sake of joy.
5) When the foolish bridesmaids arrive too late, they cry, “Lord, lord, open to us” — a clear echo of the end of the Sermon on the Mount, when those who cry “Lord, Lord!”, but neglect to live out God’s will, do not enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt 7:21). The sermon’s emphasis on walking-the-walk, not just talking-the-talk, resonates in the parable: the wise women take joy seriously enough to prepare, to welcome the Light of the World with their own light (Matt 5:14-16), and so to take part in the banquet with jubilant, luminous celebration.
Takeaways:
1) Jesus’ first-century ministry is a prelude, an anticipatory glimpse, a “First Coming” that points toward the Second, that day when all shall be, as we so often pray, “on earth as it is in heaven.” And so the idea of a Second Coming, properly understood, can help keep us humble, hopeful, courageous, and alert.
2) But not passive or complacent! As this parable makes clear, the kind of “waiting” Jesus recommends is a form of action, marked by wisdom, preparation, and mindfulness. Keep awake!
3) The driving purpose of the parable is to exhort us toward this wise action, walking-the-walk for the sake of joy. The bridesmaids are poetic symbols, of course, and we need not think of them as representing wise or foolish individuals in the real world. Rather, it’s closer to the exhortative spirit of the story to think of them as representing the wise and foolish sides of ourselves: in the end, our wise actions will allow us to take part in God’s mission and celebration, and our foolishness won’t.
4) There’s a famous line from Martin Luther King Jr., which President Barack Obama so admired that he had it woven into the curved edge of a rug in the Oval Office. It’s a paraphrase drawn from abolitionist minister Theodore Parker’s preaching; King put his version this way: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” The ancient prophets declare that there is a day surely coming when “justice and peace will kiss,” and the Christian Gospel is not only that this day indeed shall come, but that it has begun to dawn, despite the shadows (Ps 85:10). We can participate in that dawning even now, letting our own lights shine, walking the walk with wisdom, insight, and action. But the end we bear in mind, the largest frame within which our lives take place, is characterized not only by justice and peace, but finally by joy. For when that day comes, there will be a Great Banquet — we can glimpse it today, if we have eyes to see! — filled with light and delight. The arc of redemption is long, but it bends toward joy.