My Burning Question

by Lynn Adams

Whenever we come to the parable of the ten bridesmaids, perhaps better known as the wise and foolish virgins in Matthew 25:1-13, I get all weirded out over how self-righteous and just plain mean the wise bridesmaids are toward the foolish bridesmaids. You probably remember other parables where some hapless person gets thrown into the outer darkness by the God figure, which is always unsettling.

In this case, the bridegroom is in sight, so surely the girls can share the oil on hand among all the lamps. Go to the merchants? How disingenuous! It's midnight, for gosh sakes. And then the bridegroom praises the prigs and makes the featherheads miss the wedding. If this bridegroom is God's spokesman in the story, then I don't get it. I thought we were supposed to do everything in love, be generous and kind-hearted. Why would God commend causing someone else embarrassment?

As you may recall, last Sunday, Melissa preached on this parable. (Please read her sermon of November 9th -- to which I am responding.)

Melissa started out her homily by recounting how several clergy were comparing notes for the task of preaching on this reading. She said their ideas began to home in on one question… At last! I thought. This will give me my answer. But it was some other question. At the end I almost raised my hand. This is interesting because the parish is now planning a new Sunday evening service where the congregation will be encouraged to respond to homilies! I'll be there.

Down at coffee hour I mentioned my burning question to several wise people. Why would (God) the bridegroom welcome self-righteous people and banish goof-ups?

Mark gave me a meaty and satisfying response, and I hope this is faithful to the original: Matthew was writing in a time of great uncertainty in a deeply divided Jewish community after Jesus' death. Matthew often frames the ideas of Jesus in parables that emphasize the importance of vigilance, attention, and being ready, since the opposite traits may permit the newborn worldview to be reabsorbed into religion as usual. Mark cited Melissa's insight -- it's about waking up and being ready.

Reminding me not to be so literal, Richard offered a koan-like answer: Because it's a story.

Bob, experienced in the ways of families, said: They were probably sisters.

Melissa said: I don't know, but isn't that just like a bunch of teenage girls on a sleep-over?

At the end of a delightful coffee hour, I had the cozy feeling of sharing Thoughts About Important Things with a bunch of my friends. If anyone else has ideas about (1) staying awake and being ready, or (2) My Burning Question, please write in!

Lynn Adams is a longtime member of St.Paul's.

Wilderness

by Alissa Newton

“A Course in Creative Writing”
by William Stafford:

They want a wilderness with a map
but how about errors that give a new start?
or leaves that are edging into the light?
or the many places a road can’t find?

Maybe there’s a land where you have to sing
to explain anything: you blow a little whistle
just right and the next tree you meet is itself.
(And many a tree is not there yet.)

Things come toward you when you walk.
You go along singing a song that says
where you are going becomes its own
because you start. You blow a little whistle

And a world begins under the map.

Mother Melissa ended her wonderful homily yesterday morning with the poem above. She spoke about the wilderness of transition - that place that occurs over and over in biblical texts and resonates so deeply with the reality of human life. It's the moment, or hour, or month, or year(s) between letting go of what was and the arrival of what is-to-be and it's a terrifying time. We traverse there everyday in some way, between sleep and waking, between leaving work and coming home, between meeting someone's eye and deciding to smile, or not to. And there are bigger moments. The four years of college are such a wilderness - not yet really grown-up, but certainly not still a child. The years after college are even more wild, for some. Being engaged to be married - not single but not married yet, that is a wilderness. Being unemployed, about to move, applying to grad school, pregnant. All these come to mind when I think of the wilderness of transition in human life. Even more the big losses - divorce, death, separation. Those are the places we really never want to go, but, as Mo. Melissa noted in her homily, sometimes we find ourselves there despite all intentions.

I'm scared of transition. I can freely admit that I am all about what is and ever planning for what might be but it is hard for me to think about the in betweens, the letting go of now for something that could be better. Maybe there's a land where you have to sing, to explain anything... This is faith, I think. The belief that in this frightening wilderness there might be something magical, adventures and learnings that cannot be planned for but nevertheless should be met with eyes wide open, and hearts hopeful. What would happen if I could embrace the unknown with joy instead of anxiety? What would happen if St. Paul's could? This Advent that lightness, that vision of the world under the map - that is one thing I am waiting for.

Alissa Newton is Jr. Warden at St. Paul's and the editor of the parish blog. This entry was adapted from her personal blog, which can be found here.