The topic of the last sequence in Ordinary Time, Year A—before the Feast of Christ the King—is the Lord’s coming at the end of time. The two Gospels of the next two weeks are taken from the long discourse of Jesus on his coming which in Matthew’s Gospel immediately precedes the account of the passion and resurrection of Christ. From this vast collection the Lectionary has selected the two parables that insist on the urgent necessity of an active watchfulness, since no-one can say when the Son of Man will come. It will also give us a foretaste of the watching and waiting which we are about to enter in the season of Advent. This theme is echoed in St. Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians which also deal with the end times.
Despite the undeniable threats weighing upon the future of our world and the questions concerning the chances of the survival of humankind, we certainly cannot say that the matters relating to the last times particularly worry Christians. Impressed, like everybody, with what is said on the risks of destruction threatening the planet and, we must hope, conscious of their duties as human beings to preserve the future, they, too, think that they will not see the apocalyptic catastrophes that have been foretold. In any case—and it is fortunate— they do not indiscriminately mix their faith with these reflections. However, the least we can say is that the perspective of the Lord’s return is not the centre of their preoccupations as believers. But this ultimate manifestation of Christ, toward whom we are going, is an integral part of our faith. It is therefore important to attentively listen to what Paul wrote to the Thessalonians on this topic. Provided we understand it well, this teaching is relevant to our times.
Paul’s correspondents are worried about the fate of “those who have fallen asleep.” Their preoccupation is not exactly ours. Of course, human beings have always wondered about death, from which no-one escapes. Does it definitively end human existence or is there a life—what sort of life?—After death? The Thessalonians also pondered this grave question. Paul repeats to them that faith in everyone’s resurrection is based on Jesus’ resurrection. This reminder, an essential article of the Christian creed is always timely. But the manner in which Paul depicts it already reveals the exact nature of the Thessalonians question. Convinced that the Lord will come back soon, during their own lifetime, they worry about the dead: how can they participate in this event? “Do not grieve like the rest, who have no hope,” Paul answers. Everyone will be present at the rendezvous together: “The dead will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.”
To formulate his answer, Paul has recourse to ways of speaking and accepted images: the Lord’s coming down from heaven is announced by a herald—the archangel—and the sound of the trumpet; there is a cortege of those who ascend on the clouds of heaven to meet him. Paul’s intention is not to disclose to us the scenario of the Lord’s manifestation. He reminds us of the certitude based on faith: we will rise, when the Lord comes back, we shall share his glory; all those who will have lived in the hope of this great day will be forever with the Lord. It is good for us to regularly face this certitude and speak of it to others. How long do the dead have to wait until we join them? What must absorb all our attention is the present, this time that is given to us to live in the dynamic and trustful expectation of what, we hope, will happen. Furthermore, we should stay awake, for we know not the hour he is to come.
The evangelical tradition is unanimous and explicit: Jesus has said, “But of that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the Father alone.” It is absolutely Impossible to find in the Gospels anything to bolster speculations on the date of the end of this world or descriptions of what will come to pass. But Jesus did foretell the ruin of the Temple and of Jerusalem; the Gospels attest to this. It was terrible—the end of the world evoking the end of the world. We must attentively read the great discourse found in Matthews Gospel. It is addressed to Christians to exhort them to prepare themselves for this event in order to be saved. Todays parable shows clearly that this teaching on the end of time and the Lord’s return has been transmitted by the evangelist for our instruction. The parable makes us understand how we must live today in the perspective of the Day that will not fail to come, though we do not know its date: “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins” invited to a wedding.
Like many others, this parable is based on fact, a situation of ordinary life. It tells of a custom connected with the wedding celebration. The bridesmaids—ten young girls—went to the bride’s house, waiting with her until the bridegroom came to lead her to his home. Then people went in a cortege to the wedding hall. But it happens that unusual, even unlikely, traits are introduced into the narrative to make a point. There are several in our case: the interminable lateness of the bridegroom, who keeps people waiting until the middle of the night; the errand of the five maidens wanting to buy oil, as if they thought it possible to find a shop open at that hour, the closing of the banquet hall door, so contrary to the customs of oriental hospitality and so scandalous on the part of the bridegroom, who acted so thoughtlessly—his retort to the latecomers, “I do not know you.” To this we could add the fact that the young girls who had taken a supply of oil are not reproached for refusing to share. It would be out of place to quibble with these improbable features of the story. A parable is not a narrative of an event, retold with exactitude down to its minutest details. Storytellers can legitimately put in exaggerated traits that fit their purposes. This is done knowingly and fools no one.
This being understood, the lesson of the parable is clear. We shall be kept waiting for the Lord’s coming; unforeseeable, it will happen suddenly. At that moment everything will be lost for those who were taken by surprise. Others will not be able to help them. The improvident ones will find a closed door in the kingdom where the wedding of the Son of Man is celebrated.
Therefore, we understand why and in what sense the five maidens who had no extra oil are called foolish. They have demonstrated that folly, that utter lack of wisdom characterises those who do not reckon with God. They have acted impiously: “The fool says in his heart, there is no God.”
“You are invited to the wedding. Watch, for you know neither the day nor the hour of the Lord’s coming.” “Stay awake.”
The lesson is a moral one. But it results from faith in Jesus, who is, who was, who is coming again, whom we have found, whose return we are expecting. This faith is the heart of the Church’s life. The Liturgy, chiefly that of the Paschal Vigil and of the night office, reflects such a faith.
Far from producing anxiety, nervousness or, on the contrary, discouragement, carelessness, or sleepiness, the uncertainty about the day and hour of the Lord’s coming stimulates watchfulness and arouses attention. Believers have vigilant hearts, like lovers who scrutinise the night in order to detect, at the least sign, the approaching beloved. The Church is the gathering of all those who are preparing to depart in a joyous cortege, their lamps in their hands, to meet the bridegroom. Every liturgical celebration is like the dress rehearsal of the great procession to the wedding hall. In any event, the Lord is already here; he comes for his own whom he manifests himself under the veil of signs. Those who have preceded us in death also prepare themselves. With us and like us, they wait in hope for the signal, given by the archangel’s voice, which will cause the great portals of the wedding hall to open wide.“Stay awake, and stand ready, because you do not know the hour when the Son of Man is coming.”
