Wisdom 6:12-16
1 Thessalonians 4:13-18
Matthew 25:1-13
The 25th chapter of Matthew’s gospel is most famous for the parable of the last judgment, which indicates that our lives will be evaluated according to how we treat “the least of these,” namely those in need. In feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting incarcerated people, and welcoming immigrants, the parable teaches, we are honoring Christ who is present in them. Today’s gospel reading, the parable of the ten bridesmaids, is the first of three parables in this famous chapter, and to me, the first two parables rest uneasily next to the third.
The first parable imagines guests waiting for a bridal party, as the bridegroom has been delayed. Five bridesmaids have wisely brought extra oil for their lamps to welcome the tardy host, and five have run out. These “foolish” latter ask the “wise” to share some of their oil but they are refused and they miss the party. But, by the logic of “the least of these,” shouldn’t the five “wise” ones have shared a little of their oil with the others?
The chapter’s second story, the parable of the talents, is equally perplexing: there, a master leaves his slaves in charge of ten, five, and one talent each, and goes on a journey. The first two trade in the money and double their profit. The third, afraid of his cruel master, safely hides his share of the money in the ground. The master rebukes him for this “wicked” act, but did you know that a “talent” for the average day-laborer was fifteen years’ wages? Given this, I think burying the thing in the ground is arguably more prudent than trading the money away in hopes of making a profit.
When I find myself perplexed by the Bible, which is often, it helps me to take a step back and consider what the parable is attempting to communicate. Both stories are about a delayed arrival: the bridegroom is delayed to the party; the master is delayed on returning from his journey. Scripture scholars tell us that these are allegories for the expected return of Christ, Jesus’s second coming or parousia in Greek. Matthew’s gospel was written in the late first century, and the community of Christians by this time was getting very antsy. You see, the earliest Christians were a deeply apocalyptic sect who earnestly expected that at any moment Jesus would return and usher in the end of history. This story addresses the troubling reality that he has not returned as expected—the bridegroom has been delayed—but the Matthean community is urged to remain vigilant and ready for his arrival which could well be at any moment.
Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians addresses the same context, though Paul is writing a decade or two earlier. The community at Thessalonika was evidently concerned that Christians were dying, and Jesus’s promised return still had not come. Paul fully expects that he and his hearers will still be alive when Jesus returns, and so he assures the community that those Christians who have died will not miss out on the resurrection: indeed, they will be the first to be raised to life; only then will Paul and the living Christians be transported up into the clouds.
Over the intervening years, centuries, and millennia, as Christians continued to wait in vain for Jesus’s return, most of us have developed an alternative eschatology. That is, most of us do not live in the expectation of Jesus’s imminent Second Coming. I say most of us because there are of course millions of Christian dispensationalists and others who do expect the rapture to occur in any moment. A Pew Research study from 2022 found that nearly 40% of Americans believe we are living in the End Times; these views were especially pronounced among white and Black evangelicals. Catholics are less sanguine on the prospect, with only 27% of U.S. Catholics affirming that we are living in the end times.
I confess, friends, that I count myself among the 70% of Catholics who do not expect that Jesus’s second coming is imminent.
However, I do kinda think we might be living in the End Times.
In September 2026, Jacob Coxon, a researcher at the AI firm Anthropic, made headlines when he resigned out of concerns that the technology will soon spiral beyond human control. Coxon asserted that many in the industry downplay their concerns in public but are privately deeply worried that AI will destroy humanity. In response, Evan Hubinger, the Alignment Science Lead at Anthropic, agreed, saying that by his own estimate there is better than a 10% chance that AI will destroy us by 2030.
Yet industry executives barrel ahead: Elon Musk, the world’s richest person, poured $400 million into the 2026 congressional campaigns to tip the scales in favor of Republicans. He did so in part because the President’s party has so far declined to regulate the industry or respond to the public’s growing fears and frustrations around job loss and data center construction. As you know, this week, the American electorate, driven by profound shifts toward the Democrats among young, Black and Latino voters, have proved that money can’t buy you everything. I share the relief that I imagine many of you feel with Tuesday’s election results, and in the hope that the decade-long nightmare that is Trumpism is approaching its denouement.
But I would urge us all against complacency. It is imperative at this moment that we keep our lamps trimmed and burning. The President on Friday appointed Stephen Miller as his next chief of staff. Miller, as you know, was the architect of the Administration’s family separation policy in his first term, and of the brutal and murderous ICE crackdown in his second. In January, defending the administration’s coup in Venezuela and planned seizure of Greenland, Miller said, “We live in a world in which you can talk all you want about international niceties and everything else, but we live in a world, in the real world, Jake, that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power.” Miller continued, “These are the iron laws of the world since the beginning of time.”
So I don’t mean to rain on everyone’s parade this morning, but all of the major threats to our human future that were present on Monday remain in place today. Climate change. Artificial Superintelligence. The war in Iran, which has emboldened that country’s autocratic regime and with it its desire to acquire a nuclear weapon. Ongoing devastation in Palestine, Sudan, Ukraine, and elsewhere. None of these issues is magically going away just because Democrats are going to be in power. And Miller’s appointment seems to me a clear signal that the President has no intention of going quietly.
Yet it will do no good to stand on the streets bellowing out that THE END IS NEAR! This is a moment, to turn to our first reading, that calls for wisdom: “Wisdom is radiant and unfading, easily discerned by those who love her, and found by those who seek her.” The text assures us that “Wisdom walks about seeking those who are worthy of her, and graciously appears in their paths and meets them in every thought.” And so my intention, as we approach Advent, is to spend the coming season working to be worthy of wisdom. I long for a world in which authentic wisdom supersedes artificial intelligence.
Authentic wisdom tells me that our public sphere is in shambles in part because our current political leaders bring out the worst in us, all of us. But most people in this country simply want to live quiet, peaceful lives, find meaningful work, and enjoy their families. They tend to vote with those concerns in mind, and wish to extend a fair measure of decency toward their neighbors, rather than imagine themselves besieged by hordes of rabid transgender Muslim immigrants thirsting for blood. They are willing to be swayed by what Lincoln called “the better angels of our nature,” but for this to happen, someone must articulate a creative vision of the society we hope for and a credible path toward its realization. Whether or not we believe the rapture is around the corner, we need something like a vision of the Reign of God to orient us toward right action in loving wisdom. May this advent be a reset for us in which we collectively ask ourselves, what kind of world do we wish to have? Can we envision a planet where people, political parties, and nations live in peace with one another? Where everyone can share the earth, its land, its resources which are finite but ample? Rather than scheming to maximizing value, can we be driven by the pursuit of enough? And if we are fortunate to acquire more than enough, maybe we could spare a little oil for the person next to us when their lamp burns out? If our species manages to survive whatever comes between now and 2030, or now and whenever, it will be because we learned at long last to share with each other and to love each other. Perhaps we can even do so in partnership with artificial intelligence, if for once we could offer it a decent example of humanness which it could study and emulate. In the mean time let’s keep watch for wisdom: “Watch for her at dawn and you will not be disappointed, you will find her waiting at your gates.”