I wouldn’t call myself an auto mechanic, but I do like to dabble. I change my own oil and filter, top off fluids, and swap out batteries. I’ve installed a K&N air filter too, for those of you who know about these things. Whether or not it has actually helped my gas mileage is an open question, but it’s fun to watch YouTubers debate the topic. I even put in a car stereo with CarPlay navigation and managed not to break anything in the process–proud of that one.
What’s nice about mechanical systems is that, generally speaking, they work when you apply the proper maintenance. And if you’re willing to stretch yourself a little beyond the educational offerings on YouTube, you can come to understand every single component, down to the last bolt or capacitor. Despite what Apple tells you about its products, there is nothing magical about cars, clocks, or computers. Humans built them with ingenuity, reason, and logic, and that’s what powers them too.
As we all know, though, sometimes mechanical things don’t function like they’re supposed to, and this can be extraordinarily frustrating to us. Take my wife’s Subaru Forester, for example. According to the commercials, Subarus are all about love, right? Well, despite having given it quite a bit of love over the years, I’m not feeling the love in return. It burns oil like you wouldn’t believe. No leaks, and no satisfactory explanation from the dealer, ether. Every several hundred miles it loses a quart, and I’m off to the store again for some 0w-20.
If I could make a turn to the philosophical for a minute. I think mechanical breakdowns are so maddening because they represent the failure of a deep-rooted expectation. We expect mechanical things to work. They’re built on logic and reason after all. And, if you think about it, isn’t that the way we believe the world works too? If we put in the time and effort, we’ll ace the test. If we please our boss, we’ll get a bonus. If we’re tougher and smarter than the other guy, we’ll win the fight. And, if we hire the right offensive coach, we’ll win some games. These are sensible thoughts, and we count on the world to be sensible. Putting our trust in sensibility, though, is what has us running back to the store for more oil every time we find we’re a quart low.
Take the five foolish bridesmaids in today’s gospel passage. They had prepared their lamps with a sensible amount of oil. Why would they think to do otherwise? They had been invited to meet the groom, and he would show up and usher them into the wedding banquet. Reasonable and logical, don’t you think? The five wise bridesmaids, on the other hand, knew something that their foolish companions apparently did not. They knew that the story they were a part of was not subject to the mechanistic, logical rules of this word–Jesus’s parables never are. You can’t rely on sensibility when we’re dealing with the kingdom of heaven. So, when the groom finally shows up late into the night, the foolish bridesmaid’s lamps had gone out. They were a quart low and had to run back to the store for more oil. The wise bridesmaids, though, knew to expect the unexpected. They knew that this particular groom was one they couldn’t count on to play by their rules. They showed up lugging along oil to spare, just in case, and were shown in to the party.
Parables of the kingdom, like the ten young bridesmaids, are meant to teach us something very important about God. When compared to the pragmatic, reasonable ways of this world–the ways we are so used to–God is not rational, God is not logical, God is not sensible. God makes the first last. God makes the foolish wise. God lifts up the lowly and sends the rich away empty. God will spend days looking for one lost sheep or a lost coin. God loves those who squander their inheritance–even throws parties for them! For those of us used to the logic of cars, clocks, and computers, God’s ways may seem a little crazy. But, this is good news. It’s THE good news.
It’s good news because relying on the logic of this world will ultimately leave us in the cold, locked out of the joyous wedding banquet on the other side of the doors. Sometimes, even though we’ve done everything right and gotten all of our reports in on time, we still don’t get the promotion. Or, we’ve studied hard but still can’t pass the test. Or, even though we’ve followed the directions perfectly and filled our lamps to the prescribed level, we still find ourselves a quart low when it really matters. The ways of this world will let us down. But take heart, the kingdom of heaven is not run by a mechanic, but rather an alchemist. God invites us to become royal wedding guests, no matter how we might be judged by the measures of this world. Through Christ we transcend earthly calculus and become holy inhabitants of the kingdom of heaven.
Back to today’s parable for a minute. I bet the five wise bridesmaids probably looked a little foolish lugging all that heavy extra oil to go meet the groom. Again, what are the chances they would need to use it? I can imagine some quiet snickers coming from the other five bridesmaids as they skipped along with their much lighter, reasonably filled lamps. What is wise when it comes to the kingdom of heaven may look a little foolish here. Christians do crazy things all the time, like giving money away even when it doesn’t benefit us directly, or by caring for the least, the lost, and the lonely when we could make the logical decision to just look out for ourselves.
I wonder what it looks like for you to be wise in the ways of the kingdom of heaven, but foolish when it comes to the ways of the world? Behaving this way, I expect, is how we will come to know God and discover the joy of the wedding banquet. Next time you’re at the store, grab an extra couple quarts of oil–more than you think you might need. You just never know when, where, or how God might show up.
Proper 27, Year A