“Most of you won’t be here.”
That is what the newly-hired Chicago Bears football coach Mike Ditka told his players at his first team meeting in 1982. Coach Ditka, who died last month, told the long-losing Bears that in three years he would lead them to the Super Bowl. (He did. They won in 1985.)
Ditka had been to Super Bowls, both as a player and a coach. He therefore had some firsthand knowledge on how to get to the “Big Show.” That was the good news. Then he gave them the bad news: Most of the players in the room would no longer be on the team, for Iron Mike Ditka, who grew up in a tough steel town outside Pittsburgh, had standards.
I saw Mike Ditka catch a touchdown pass as a player for Dallas in the Super Bowl in 1972. But I don’t remember it. I was five years old. What I remember is that my dad and I watched a football game on a Sunday afternoon (Super Bowls were in the afternoons back then). My dad made popcorn. I don’t recall any conversation. I just remember the two of us, father and son, sitting there watching the game.
It is an early memory etched in my consciousness, for it was the first game I was able to apply some particular football concepts which before were just universals. I was aware the teams were the Cowboys and the Dolphins. And I remembered the score: 24-3. It was only years later, reading a book about the Super Bowls which stated the Cowboys beat the Dolphins 24-3 in Super Bowl VI that I realized, “Hey! The first game I remember watching with my dad was that Super Bowl!”
Funny the things one remembers. I wonder how many people in Jerusalem remembered Christ’s “Ten Virgins” parable. I wonder if they remembered the score:
The kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise.
The parable sounds quite odd to our modern ears, but it was quite believable in Christ’s time. In His culture a wedding featured a nighttime procession. After a long day of festivities, the bridegroom would arrive at the bride’s parents’ home. They’d give her away, and he would walk with her to his home. Her friends, young virgins, would process in front, carrying torches. Not bulky, functional ones that lit up the night sky, but small and sleek ones, more like candles. These lovely, decorative lamps paired up nicely with the young virgins, who added elegance and beauty to the festive occasion.
In Christ’s culture, bridegrooms were long-delayed all the time. They got held up with relatives and well-wishers. Hospitality was different back then. And so, after a long day of celebrating, people waiting around for the bridegroom no doubt became tired and sleepy:
The girls, at first so vivacious and restless, grow quiet, listless, and resign. The chatter subsides and some begin to look bored. One or two yawn and withdraw to a corner to fight against their sleepiness. (Ricciotti)
For context, understand that Christ gave this parable on Wednesday of Holy Week. During that same day, Judas met with the Pharisees to begin the betrayal process. It was the end of the line for Christ. He would hang on Calvary in forty-eight hours. And so, Christ gave an end-of-the-line parable. Those listening heard that one invited to a wedding needed to remain vigilant, keeping vigil, meaning staying awake, so as to not get shut out from the wedding feast.
The tension was thick. Christ had just called the Pharisees hypocrites to their faces, in front of the big crowds. Perhaps that was why they were a bit perplexed when Christ shifted into talking about weddings. It was as if the great miracle worker and possible Messiah had suddenly become a wedding planner of sorts.
It was only later that people came to understand the meaning of the parable.
The virgins represent mankind, which includes both the just and the wicked, the reprobate and the elect. The lamps are men’s souls, whose wicks need to be trimmed with acts of penance and humility. The oil is grace, the light and life of Christ bestowed at baptism.
We live in heretical times. A time of universalism, where anyone and everyone is saved. “Once saved, always saved,” they shout. Everyone’s a winner. Everyone goes to the “Big Show.” But let’s apply some common sense: Once one is bestowed grace, the free, unmerited gift from God, does that mean he will never lose it or give it up? Is the mere claim that one is a Christian an automatic ticket to heaven? What about all those Chicago Bears in 1982? Were they “Once Bears Always Bears”? No. Most of them were cut from the team.
The foolish virgins were members of the wedding party. They were on the team. Yet, at the end of the day, they were shut out. The virgins had faith, but as Christ’s parable demonstrates, faith alone did not save them. The virgins needed the oil of good works and charity. But due to indifference and spiritual drowsiness, they let their oil run dry. And when the Bridegroom arrived in the night, they were unprepared, and locked out of the feast—forever.
Understand Christ’s urgent message: There is a time for good works and prayers, a time for mercy and redemption. But when the trumpet blasts and the angel cries, “Behold, the Bridegroom! Come out to meet Him,” that particular time is over. It’s done. It’s the end of the line. And the age of perfect justice begins.
My friends, Christ has standards. Why shouldn’t He? He bled out on Calvary to give us a shot at the Big Show in heaven. How can we become spiritually drowsy about that awesome fact?
The awesome fact is that we have been invited to play on Christ’s team. But the invitation is just the beginning, not the end. Merely reading the team’s playbook and claiming to be a team member will not merit us a spot on the final squad. No, we have to cooperate with the coach’s plan. Then train physically and mentally with blood, sweat, and tears, willing to take hits and sacrifice our bodies for the team. Only then will we make it to the Big Show.
And that, my friends, is the good news. The bad news is that some of us won’t be there.
It’s interesting: There are four downs in a football game, and there are four ends of Holy Mass: Adoration, Thanksgiving, Atonement, and Petition. This is the liturgical game we are called to participate in on Sundays. And it is a beautiful game, re-played over and over. That is why we keep coming back every Sunday—so it becomes etched in our consciousness.
It’s also interesting to note that the game is a marriage feast, the marriage feast of the Lamb, for at Mass the Bridegroom lays down His life for His bride in the perfect sacrifice…so Christ is indeed something of a wedding planner after all.
Christ has a plan for you, so cooperate with it. Get oil in your lamp and keep it there. Then you won’t be taken by surprise when the Bridegroom arrives. You can walk with Him together through the dark night of this sinful world. His angels will add elegance and beauty to the festive occasion by lighting up the narrow path, keeping you safely on it. They will get you home, to the Big Show in heaven; the home your Bridegroom has promised and prepared for you. The home where there is perfect justice.
Image from Wikimedia Commons
