Afterwards the other virgins came and said,
'Lord, Lord, open the door for us!'
But he said in reply,
'Amen, I say to you, I do not know you.'
Therefore, stay awake,
for you know neither the day nor the hour."
The Lord's parable may be read as a delightful promise of everlasting life for those who welcome him on the last day, but that reading misses the point. The parable does not end with the ecstatic joy of the wise virgins as they join the wedding party. Rather, we hear about the disappointment of the foolish girls. The parable warns those who neither expect nor prepare for the Lord’s second coming.
I used to meet with a group of addicts who were trying to quit their habits of drinking alcohol and abusing drugs. We met on the seventh floor of the hospital, ten minutes after an earlier session on the same floor. Several of them felt compelled to get down to the lobby, out the front door, smoke a quick cigarette, and return to the seventh floor in ten minutes. They were usually late; and invariably complained that the elevators were too slow.
The problem was neither the slow elevators; nor their limited time. It was their determination to smoke a cigarette, whatever the risk. They were not planning to enter the freedom of sobriety without their cigarettes. In the end, freedom from alcohol might say, "Amen, I say to you, I do not know you.'
“…the essential conditions of freedom are social and the simplest answer to the question, “Why cannot I do as I please?” is “Because other people won’t let me.”
He went on: no one achieves his own freedom alone. He must accept it as a free gift from others, and if they will not give it to him he cannot have it. This is the law of freedom. Anyone who struggles to achieve their own private freedom frustrates themselves, and destroys its possibility. We can never free ourselves from depending on others. “To believe in freedom,” the same philosopher said, “ in any sense worthy of consideration, is to believe in setting other people free. This is to some extent within our power, and it is the greatest service we can render; even if it must be, at times, by the sacrifice of our own. In giving freedom to others we have a right to hope that they in turn will have the grace and gratitude to give us ours. But of this we can have no guarantee.” (The Conditions of Freedom John Macmurray, Humanity Books, 1949) Freedom is what we give to one another. Friends might welcome you to take anything you like from the refrigerator or the pantry, and you’re welcome to it. But they have not offered you their husband, wife, children, or family car! Taking what you want when it’s not offered is not freedom. That’s coercion, which is why some people infest their homes with guns and carry them everywhere. With their ability to threaten, harm, and kill, they can do anything they want to unarmed people. I knew one fellow who insisted the United States is the freest nation on earth simply because he could buy any gun he wants. Do you call that freedom? It sounds like fear to me. Catholics celebrate the freedom we enjoy as obedient disciples of a Crucified Man. He has given us the power and authority to live freely within his kingdom. Before we are citizens of the United States or any other country, we are citizens of God’s kingdom. Saint Luke’s Acts of the Apostles describes the freedom of the men and women who moved throughout the Roman empire. The evangelist never mentions their paying anything for their passage; it was always provided. Their food, clothing, and medical care were also provided. During that first century, when famine swept through Jerusalem, Christians survived because Saint Paul collected and sent funds from all the churches he had founded and visited. The Lord had told them, “Freely you have received, freely you should give.” When World War II ended, the United States enjoyed an enormous illusion of freedom because it could take anything it wanted from anywhere in the world with its economic and military strength. The postwar era saw the best education, health care, and economic history of any nation in history. That wealth has been fading ever since, but we’re often unwilling to recognize the loss. Baby boomers are not as wealthy as their parents; and their grandchildren today face an uncertain future of growing restrictions.
The Crucified Savior still offers us the enormous freedom of obedience. As disciples who want only to know and do the will of God, we are ready to go where we’re sent and do what we’re asked. Our ancestors in the faith – that cloud of witnesses – taught us how to live with realistic expectations of contentment in whichever vocation the Lord gives us. We find meaning and purpose as husbands and wives, priests, religious and layfolks in the service of the Church and the world.
The Lord’s story of the foolish, disappointed virgins reminds me of three pigs and the big bad wolf, as Dad told me the story more than seventy years ago. The first pig built his house of straw. After the wolf huffed and puffed and blew his straw house away, he feasted on the pig. The second pig built his house of wood, and suffered the same fate. The house of straw was built in a few hours, and cost next to nothing. The wooden house wasn’t much better. Only the pig, who’d built his house on an immovable foundation of bricks, after careful preparation and planning, with much effort, time, and sacrifice, survived the Evil One’s mighty winds of trauma, disruption, famine, war, and plague.
We take our lessons from the three pigs and the Lord’s parable; and enter the Banquet of Heaven through the narrow gate of faith, hope, and love; of sacrifice, prayer, and endless generosity.
