In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Today’s readings speak of what Amos calls “the day of the Lord” (5.18). It is fitting that we read these passages as we approach the season of Advent, when our liturgy will turn earnestly to a consideration of the coming of the Lord. For this is what is before us in today’s lessons: the return of Christ, last things: death, judgment, heaven, and hell.
That sounds ominous, and indeed it is. In the back of our minds we might have the very final verse of the Bible: Revelation 22.20, where St. John the Divine says: “He who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’” And then the Seer adds: “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”
That prayer, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” should be hedged around with some trepidation in light of today’s readings. And we should ask ourselves whether we can pray it earnestly – whether we can honestly look forward with joy and anticipation to Christ’s immanent return in light of the fact that he is coming to judge the living and the dead.
In today’s Epistle reading, St. Paul exhorts us to “comfort one another with these words” (v. 18) -- that “the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the archangel's call, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise” (v. 16). And yet in the Old Testament reading the prophet Amos speaks with foreboding: “Woe to you who desire the day of the LORD! Why would you have the day of the LORD? It is darkness, and not light; as if a man fled from a lion, and a bear met him; or went into the house and leaned with his hand against the wall, and a serpent bit him. Is not the day of the LORD darkness, and not light, and gloom with no brightness in it?” (vv. 18-20).
The seeming incongruity between these two depictions of the day of the Lord – a day “gloom with no brightness in it” in the vision of Amos, and a day in the thought of which we take comfort according to St. Paul – the tension between these two visions is resolved in the reading from the Gospel of St. Matthew.
In the Gospel reading Jesus gives us the parable of the foolish and wise virgins. And the very mention of the foolish and the wise suggests the resolution of the tension between the two competing visions of the day of the Lord. It is a day of darkness and gloom for the foolish – like fleeing from a lion and meeting a bear, like leaning against a wall and being bitten by a serpent. But for the wise virgins, and precisely because of their wisdom, the very thought of the day of the Lord and its immanence is a comfort.
Jesus said “the kingdom of heaven shall be compared to ten maidens who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. For when the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps.”
St. Gregory the Great says that the kingdom of heaven is here meant to be the present Church, where “bad are mixed with good, and reprobate with elect; it is like a mixture of wise and foolish virgins.”
And as we have heard, the wisdom and foolishness of the respective virgins consists in the one group having taken with them flasks of oil, whereas “When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them” (vv. 2-3). The lamps represent the righteous works of the saints of God, as the Lord himself said in another place: “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matt. 5.16).
Last week the Gospel warned us of conspicuous piety. But we should recall that the danger arising from conspicuous piety arises from its being motivated by its visibility. But here the Lord says “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works AND GIVE GLORY TO YOUR FATHER WHO IS IN HEAVEN.” And last week we saw how it is that our motives are manifest in our actions.
So the oil in this parable represents the impetus for our visible action, the spiritual fuel that fires our work and makes it visible and without which our works grow dim and are finally extinguished. So the 3rd century Church Father, Origen, says that the oil is the doctrine of the Church: “The oil is the word of teaching, with which the vessels of souls are filled; for what gives so great content as moral discourse, which is called the oil of light. The wise took with them of this oil, as much as would suffice, though the Word should tarry long, and be slack to come to their consummation. The foolish took lamps, alight indeed at the first, but not supplied with so much oil as should suffice even to the end, being careless respecting the provision of doctrine which comforts faith, and enlightens the lamp of good deeds.”
We must be animated by the truth of the Gospel, the Truth that is Jesus Christ: he must be the impetus that fires our action, and we must store him up in our hearts so that we don’t burn out – because he alone has overcome the world (Jn. 16.33) – and because there will come a time when it will be too late. This is represented in the parable by the sleep that overtakes the virgins, wise and foolish alike. And this represents death, the great equalizer. Into which one day we shall all fall, to be wakened by the midnight cry: “Behold the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!” (v. 6). And those who trimmed their lamps will be those who are prepared to render an account of their deeds (Cf. Augustine, NOTES, below; cf. 2 Cor. 5.10).
This is why Scripture speaks of “the day of the Lord” at once as darkness and gloom without any light, on the one hand; and as the source of our comfort, on the other: because there are two possible responses to it, that of the foolish virgins, and that of the wise virgins. Let us therefore continually ask ourselves whether we can pray with comfort: “Amen. Come Lord Jesus.” And let us root out of ourselves that which is foolish, and cultivate that which is wise.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Today’s readings speak of what Amos calls “the day of the Lord” (5.18). It is fitting that we read these passages as we approach the season of Advent, when our liturgy will turn earnestly to a consideration of the coming of the Lord. For this is what is before us in today’s lessons: the return of Christ, last things: death, judgment, heaven, and hell.
That sounds ominous, and indeed it is. In the back of our minds we might have the very final verse of the Bible: Revelation 22.20, where St. John the Divine says: “He who testifies to these things says, ‘Surely I am coming soon.’” And then the Seer adds: “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”
That prayer, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” should be hedged around with some trepidation in light of today’s readings. And we should ask ourselves whether we can pray it earnestly – whether we can honestly look forward with joy and anticipation to Christ’s immanent return in light of the fact that he is coming to judge the living and the dead.
In today’s Epistle reading, St. Paul exhorts us to “comfort one another with these words” (v. 18) -- that “the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the archangel's call, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise” (v. 16). And yet in the Old Testament reading the prophet Amos speaks with foreboding: “Woe to you who desire the day of the LORD! Why would you have the day of the LORD? It is darkness, and not light; as if a man fled from a lion, and a bear met him; or went into the house and leaned with his hand against the wall, and a serpent bit him. Is not the day of the LORD darkness, and not light, and gloom with no brightness in it?” (vv. 18-20).
The seeming incongruity between these two depictions of the day of the Lord – a day “gloom with no brightness in it” in the vision of Amos, and a day in the thought of which we take comfort according to St. Paul – the tension between these two visions is resolved in the reading from the Gospel of St. Matthew.
In the Gospel reading Jesus gives us the parable of the foolish and wise virgins. And the very mention of the foolish and the wise suggests the resolution of the tension between the two competing visions of the day of the Lord. It is a day of darkness and gloom for the foolish – like fleeing from a lion and meeting a bear, like leaning against a wall and being bitten by a serpent. But for the wise virgins, and precisely because of their wisdom, the very thought of the day of the Lord and its immanence is a comfort.
Jesus said “the kingdom of heaven shall be compared to ten maidens who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. For when the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps.”
St. Gregory the Great says that the kingdom of heaven is here meant to be the present Church, where “bad are mixed with good, and reprobate with elect; it is like a mixture of wise and foolish virgins.”
And as we have heard, the wisdom and foolishness of the respective virgins consists in the one group having taken with them flasks of oil, whereas “When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them” (vv. 2-3). The lamps represent the righteous works of the saints of God, as the Lord himself said in another place: “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matt. 5.16).
Last week the Gospel warned us of conspicuous piety. But we should recall that the danger arising from conspicuous piety arises from its being motivated by its visibility. But here the Lord says “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works AND GIVE GLORY TO YOUR FATHER WHO IS IN HEAVEN.” And last week we saw how it is that our motives are manifest in our actions.
So the oil in this parable represents the impetus for our visible action, the spiritual fuel that fires our work and makes it visible and without which our works grow dim and are finally extinguished. So the 3rd century Church Father, Origen, says that the oil is the doctrine of the Church: “The oil is the word of teaching, with which the vessels of souls are filled; for what gives so great content as moral discourse, which is called the oil of light. The wise took with them of this oil, as much as would suffice, though the Word should tarry long, and be slack to come to their consummation. The foolish took lamps, alight indeed at the first, but not supplied with so much oil as should suffice even to the end, being careless respecting the provision of doctrine which comforts faith, and enlightens the lamp of good deeds.”
We must be animated by the truth of the Gospel, the Truth that is Jesus Christ: he must be the impetus that fires our action, and we must store him up in our hearts so that we don’t burn out – because he alone has overcome the world (Jn. 16.33) – and because there will come a time when it will be too late. This is represented in the parable by the sleep that overtakes the virgins, wise and foolish alike. And this represents death, the great equalizer. Into which one day we shall all fall, to be wakened by the midnight cry: “Behold the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!” (v. 6). And those who trimmed their lamps will be those who are prepared to render an account of their deeds (Cf. Augustine, NOTES, below; cf. 2 Cor. 5.10).
This is why Scripture speaks of “the day of the Lord” at once as darkness and gloom without any light, on the one hand; and as the source of our comfort, on the other: because there are two possible responses to it, that of the foolish virgins, and that of the wise virgins. Let us therefore continually ask ourselves whether we can pray with comfort: “Amen. Come Lord Jesus.” And let us root out of ourselves that which is foolish, and cultivate that which is wise.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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