Proper 27, Year A | Matthew 25:1-13
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
November 12, 2023
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
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Biblical weddings—whether parables or not—are just plain confusing. With our dependance on electricity and reserving venues and RSVPs and strict scheduling, most of us end up searching for clues to understand the what’s and the why’s of weddings in the ancient world. Things that apparently held deep significance for New Testament authors make no sense to us, leaving us lost in regard to what exactly the point is.
I haven’t found many sources that give a solid background of wedding practices common in 1st Century Palestine. One, based on observations from modern Near Eastern celebrations in more isolated and traditional communities, emphasized that weddings typically take place in the fall and winter, and with the extra darkness, every guest is expected to bring candles or lamps with them to provide symbolic joy, and very real light, to the house where the marriage will take place. With the whole community gathered and waiting, there’s little to no point in trying to purchase more candles or fuel; all the shops will be closed since the sellers are also getting ready for the party. Additionally, houses tend to be relatively small, so once the initial round of guests arrives or space starts getting tight, those inside lock the door, whereupon the celebration continues for days on end. Due to the noise, no one can hear latecomers knocking, and even if they do, the groom is too busy hosting the current guests to greet those who hadn’t bothered to prepare properly in the first place.
Based on those cultural norms and expectations, the lesson of the parable seems pretty simple: don’t wait until the last minute; do like a Boy Scout and just be prepared. Or as Jesus states in our final verse, “Keep awake”—“alert,” really: all the ladies fell asleep—“Keep [alert] therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”[1]
If that’s the case, there really isn’t a whole lot more to talk about. Everybody make sure you’re always ready for the arrival of God’s Kingdom. Pack extra oil (whatever that might be); keep what you have for yourself, and everything will be good.
I suppose the parable could be that simple, but something feels off about that interpretation. I keep wondering if there isn’t more here for us to consider, like, what if Jesus wasn’t saying the five virgins were foolish simply because they weren’t prepared? What if having lights—or not—wasn’t the point? What if they were foolish because they left? What if the real problem was their pride, their self-focused unwillingness for other people to think they might have been foolish?
Working through the text this week, the idea doesn’t seem out of line. The way the five talk and behave, they sound more like what we would consider to be entitled rather than what we would think of as simply “foolish.” The way they address the “wise” virgins (and that adjective should be more along the lines of “thoughtful” or “sensible” than having some sort of special knowledge or sagacity) doesn’t read as a question or request. I couldn’t see any suggestions of respect or polite phrasing. It’s a straight up demand: “You all give us out of your olive oil.”[2] Their later words to the groom come across similarly.
Honestly, it feels a lot like a reality TV moment, one of those scenes where a particular contestant makes a mistake or actively offends everyone else in the house and then starts accusing the others of mistreating them. You can practically hear the huffing and muttering as they run off to the store: “Can you believe those five? They’re so selfish—completely inconsiderate! If they’re so smart, why didn’t they bring enough oil for everybody? And not noticing we hadn’t made it back yet? Rude! We need to leave one-star reviews of them and the wedding. Jerks!”
I wonder how the story might have gone if they’d owned up to their errors instead of demanding that others fix them. What if one of them had admitted their mistake and asked if they could walk with one of the others or come in with them as part of the group? What if they had combined their remaining oil so they would have had enough to keep at least one of their lamps burning? Not being familiar with the culture, we can’t know for sure, but I doubt the host would worry too much about a few missing flames—they would have already prepared days worth of light and fuel anyway. And honestly, who really cares what someone else is bringing? After all, the point of the wedding celebration is the celebration itself—enjoyment is what matters most. People are focused on the party, not what someone else may or may not have done in advance. Any initial awkwardness would quickly fade as the festivities began to unfold.
So then, what if it’s the same with us? What if God’s Kingdom is welcoming us, but we’re simply too proud to enter? What if, in our attempts to look good to others—who probably aren’t paying nearly as much attention to us as we want to think—we end up missing out on the joy and fellowship available for all? What if we could be humble enough to walk in someone else’s light? What if, instead of demanding that everyone cater to our wants or needs, we trust in the graciousness of the host and realize there’s enough light for all? What if we simply need to risk looking foolish in order to join in the fun?
[1] Matthew 25:13 | Modifications mine | All Bible quotations are from the NRSV unless otherwise noted.
[2] Matthew 25:8 | My translation