Good Planning is Not the Same as the Gospel - Matthew 25:1-13

Recently, Jason and I attended a lovely wedding. I think it was the first time in eighteen years of marriage that we got to attend one together. Usually only one of us goes to work the event. The novelty of the situation dawned on me as soon as I opened the invitation. My mind started working on the details immediately. I could see that for both of us to go, there would be schedule conflicts, so I fixed those on the calendar. I made arrangements for the kids’ activities. And I figured out when the usual weekend church prep, grocery shopping, and house cleaning would get done. As a planner, that’s how my mind works. Jason, on the other hand, did not worry about the details as early as I did, since we’re opposite personalities in that way. I have learned over the years that one way is not better than the other, and that my way sometimes adds an unnecessary layer of stress. But I do tend to feel self-righteous about my way of doing things.

Maybe that is why, for years, I have read the parable of the ten bridesmaids’ as a kind of manifesto for planners. Jesus says, “Keep awake, for you do not know the day nor the hour,” which sounds like a warning to always be prepared for the coming of the kingdom. The winners in the parable are clearly the five bridesmaids who prepped well, packing extra oil for their lamps in case of unforeseen circumstances. When the bridegroom came at midnight, much later than expected, their lamps had plenty of fuel. The losers are the other five, who had to go wandering around in the middle of the night to find an oil vendor who was still open. When they returned, the door to the wedding banquet was shut to them for good. Judgment seems to come to those who have not planned well.

That is a very convenient interpretation for those of us who like to plan ahead. It makes us feel seen, like Jesus is on our side. But such a reading is superficial at best. At worst, it misses the real wisdom in the story.

Preparation, or doing the right thing, is not really what separates the five winners from the five losers. If it were, we could quickly point out that the winners refused to share their extra oil with those who ran out, a distinctly unChristian behavior by all measures. So what, then, did the winners get right? The only real difference between the bridesmaids is what they put their faith in.

The bridesmaids who ran out of oil had faith in the ways of the world, in the way that weddings usually go. On that schedule, they would have had plenty of oil. The ones with extra oil had no real reason to pack more. The wedding was not supposed to be delayed. And who starts a reception at midnight anyway? They looked foolish by the world’s standards. But they trusted in a different reality. Their faith was not in the ways of the world, but in the bridegroom himself.

The wisdom of this story is that we are not saved by the ways of the world. Note that the world is a score-keeping place, and we can easily slip into thinking that our salvation works like that, too, that God is keeping score. The world tells us that we will be successful if we are good enough, smart enough, lovable enough, or any other worldly standard. And if we pack the normal amount of oil. But that’s not the gospel. The gospel tells us that we are saved by the one who died on a cross. Death on a cross looks like losing, not winning. The cross offers a counter wisdom, a strange, inverted logic that unlocks the mystery of our salvation - which is God’s doing, not ours. All that is asked of us in return is to stop spinning around in a busy frenzy of self-justification, and to believe.

The story of the ten bridesmaids is known as a parable of judgement. The judgment comes at the end. “The other bridesmaids came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’” And the door was closed to them. In other words, at some point, we do run out of time. Jesus isn’t clear about whether that’s our personal end or the end of this whole story. Either way, that end is meant to shape our belief now. In the words of Robert Capon, “some day, late or soon, it will be too late even to believe. We become what we do. If we trust, we become trusters, and we enter into the sure possession of the one whom we trust. If we distrust, we become distrusters and close out the only relationship with reality ever offered to us.” The parable asks us to trust now, to have faith in the bridegroom who saves us.

The words in the parable about keeping awake and not knowing the day nor the hour can sound frightening. So we have to remember what it is we are waiting for. It’s the heavenly banquet, closeness with God, a party. Jesus’ parables of judgement are also always parables of grace. We have the power to shut ourselves out of the party to which we are invited, but the invitation comes again and again. The banquet awaits us.

This gives me hope, not only for my own soul, but also for the world. Heartbreaking violence and hatred continue to erupt, and we humans keep hurting one another. If salvation were contingent upon us getting things right, it would look very precarious. But salvation comes through the one who rejected all of the sinful impulses of this world. On the cross, he stretched out his arms and drew the whole world to himself in order for no one to be lost. He showed the world a different way of peace and mercy. And from time to time, he spoke of himself as a bridegroom, who wants nothing more than for the world to follow his way and join the wedding banquet. His parables remind us that even though we haven’t gotten things right yet, it’s not too late. The world is still invited.

Jason and I had a lovely time at that recent wedding we attended. The couple’s vows were moving, as a symbol of Christ’s union with us here on earth. The decorations were beautiful and the hors d'oeuvres were delicious. It was joyful. And no need to worry - there was plenty of lamp oil, and no one was shut out of the party. I think it was rather like the wedding banquet that God has in mind for us at the end of the ages, the one to which we are all invited.