Do you like waiting? Anybody? Whether it’s sitting in a doctor’s aptly named “waiting room” or standing behind an overloaded grocery cart at the only open checkout lane, we generally have little patience for waiting. 

 

The COVID-19 pandemic brought new meaning to the pain of waiting. How long before I can eat out without fear, socialize with my friends, sing in a choir, or go on a normal vacation? When can I go back to the office and the kids go back to school? 

 

While medical experts counseled patience despite the difficulties and inconvenience, “reopen” advocates pressed for an end to restrictions. Political leaders and ordinary citizens were divided as tensions mounted and we wondered – and still wonder – if the former state of normalcy will ever return. 

 

Waiting is hard, but sometimes we have no other option. While waiting, however, we have choices about what we will do and how we will act. We can make the most of the time in creative ways, or we can devolve into self-pity. 

 

The church people addressed in the gospel of Matthew were also waiting, and increasingly frustrated. Teachings of Jesus such as those in the apocalyptic discourse of Matthew 24 gave the distinct impression that Jesus would not only return, but soon. 

 

Many expected Jesus to return in their own lifetimes, and they were disappointed when decades passed with no sign of the Parousia, no evidence of Jesus arriving with the angels to redeem the righteous and judge the world. Some may have lost faith and turned away because of the delay.

 

At least 40 years had passed before the gospel of Matthew was written, and they were still waiting. The Apostle Paul had blazed missionary trails and expected Christ’s return and passed from the scene, but they were still waiting. Roman armies had sacked and burned the temple in Jerusalem, bringing to mind the apocalyptic predictions of Matthew 24, but there was no angel band heralding the Parousia. 

 

They were still waiting. 

 

 

 

To encourage his readers, the author of Matthew followed his account of Jesus’ fiery apocalyptic prediction by putting together several parables designed to counsel both patience and continued faithfulness. [DD]

 

The second parable is unique to Matthew. [DD] It offers an image of the kingdom of heaven from the standpoint of who can expect to enter it fully at Christ’s return. The story begins with ten “bridesmaids” (NRSV). The Greek word literally means “virgins,” though another word meaning “young women” was available. “Virgins” is probably the intended meaning, indicating the ideal that those who know divine forgiveness would remain chaste in their commitment to Christ (compare 2 Cor. 11:2). 

 

The maidens were likely young women associated with the bridegroom’s family. They were awaiting the arrival of the bridegroom on the evening of his wedding, which would culminate in a party that would last for days. 

 

Where they were waiting is unclear, but their obvious intention was to escort the bridegroom (and possibly the bride) to the site of the wedding, probably his family’s home. Because it was late, the women carried lamps that may have been attached to poles and used like torches so they could lead the wedding procession (v. 1). [DD]

 

Here’s the rub. Five of the maidens were “wise,” far-sighted enough to bring extra oil in case the bridegroom should run late. The other five were “foolish” in that they did not consider the possibility of delay and brought no extra oil with them (vv. 2-4). 

The bridegroom was in fact late in arriving (v. 5). No explanation is given, though some fancifully imagine he was tied up with last-minute financial negotiations with the bride’s father. [DD] The delay was so long that all of the virgins fell asleep, presumably with their lamps still burning. 

 

 

 

The bridegroom arrived at last, “in the middle of the night,” preceded by a shout that alerted the maidens to his arrival (v. 6). All of them trimmed the wicks of their dimming flames and five were able to replenish their supply of oil, pull out more wick, and make their lamps shine brighter. The other five watched sadly as their lamps flickered dimly, on the verge of going out. 

 

The foolish virgins asked the others to share, but were told there wasn’t enough to go around, leaving them with the task of finding a midnight merchant who sold olive oil (vv. 7-9). 

 

While searching for oil, the girls who were unprepared missed the parade as the wise maidens joined the procession to the wedding venue, where the door was closed behind them (v. 10). 

 

Questions arise as we read the story. We may wonder about the ethics of those who refused to share their oil or ask why the five foolish virgins could not have joined the procession even if their lamps had gone out. Such questions, however, are beyond the purview of the story, which is about the importance of being prepared. 

 

 

 

The foolish maidens succeeded in obtaining more oil, but alas, it was too late. They knocked at the door, crying “Lord, lord (‘Sir, sir’), open to us,” but heard only what must have seemed a callous reply, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you” (vv. 11-12). 

 

The bridegroom’s rejection may strike us as unrealistic and harsh. The maidens left outside may have been foolish but were hardly unknown. Again, that’s not the point of the parable: because the women were unprepared, they missed their chance. 

 

“Keep awake therefore,” Jesus said, “for you know neither the day nor the hour” (v. 13). Keeping awake is to be understood in the sense of being aware and prepared: even the wise virgins could fall asleep, knowing they would be ready when the bridegroom arrived. 

 

 

 

So, how do we interpret this parable? It is obvious that certain elements are allegorical. The trick is determining how far the allegory goes. 

 

It is clear that the bridegroom is Jesus, and that his unexpected tardiness represents the delay of the Parousia. The maidens are members of the church, the bridegroom’s arrival signals the return of Christ, the closed door marks the judgment, and the wedding banquet represents life in the new age. 

 

But should we extend the allegory further? Do the maidens’ lamps, and by extension their provision of oil, also have allegorical significance? Some think the oil lamps represent good deeds, recalling Jesus’ instruction to “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your father in heaven” (Matt. 5:16). Others imagine that the extra oil represents faith that endures, or love for Christ that lasts and does not grow cold. 

 

Such interpretations may be appealing but are likely to be overreaching. We do not earn our way into heaven by works, and good deeds cannot be purchased, like oil, from a merchant. 

 

The point is that the women were not ready for the bridegroom’s arrival. Church members who are wise should take note and live faithfully, ready to meet Christ whether at the Parousia or at their own death. 

 

For some theologians, eschatology is all about the future, looking to a day when Christ literally returns to earth, judges sinners and saints, and inaugurates the next age. Believers would certainly want to be ready for that. 

 

Looking at the story from this position, some see the wise and foolish as true believers who are spiritually prepared, as opposed to pseudo-Christians who may go through the motions or adopt church culture but still live for themselves rather than Christ. Others might see it as a warning to hold tightly to one’s faith rather than giving up and falling away: to keep one’s “spiritual oil” replenished and ready to meet Jesus. 

 

Others prefer to think of eschatology more in the present than in the future. A school of thought known as “realized eschatology” holds that Christ inaugurated the kingdom of God while on earth, and that New Testament references to Jesus’ coming can be understood in terms of what he has already done. In this view, Christians are not so much challenged to wait patiently and faithfully for Christ’s return, but to live into the reality of a kingdom that is always coming and breaking into our world. We are called to live in such a way that the presence of Christ is realized in the way we live and love and show grace to others, representing Christ in the world. 

 

Either view calls for present readiness. We are surrounded by people who face traumas or trials and are in need of hope for the future. Christ’s love is present when we persevere in hope that puts on its boots and does the work. Jesus comes when we work for justice to overcome systemic evils. The kingdom breaks in when we show compassion to those who need it most. 

 

Whatever our eschatological bent, the message of the parable is clear: we are called to live with expectant hope. As we see the world through Jesus’ eyes, we can believe that God is still at work in our world, coming into it in ways that bring redemption, grace, and the promise of completion.