The associated reading for this reflection can be found in your Every Sacred Sunday Mass journal or online here.
I recently read Flannery O'Connor's short story, "Revelation," which describes the mind of Mrs. Turpin, a cold-hearted Christian woman who relentlessly judges those around her. It's easy enough to read the story and think: "Well, I'm definitely not as bad as she is." In my tidy and cozy suburban Catholicism, I'm tempted to adopt a certain moral superiority that I'm basically fine — a regular Mass attendee, a pray-before-dinner devotee, a Fr. Mike fan. Then again, Dante's Divine Comedy describes the Vestibule of Hell as a place of black haze filled with "the nearly soulless whose lives concluded neither praise nor blame." We aren't called to be “not that bad”, but actively good.
This we see in today's Gospel, which describes the five wise and five foolish virgins. The Kingdom of Heaven is not reserved for those who merely desire to enter the bridegroom's feast, but for those whose actions prepare them for the moment when Christ opens the door. Indeed, both the wise and the foolish sought to meet the bridegroom, both brought lamps, and both fell asleep. But what separates the wise from the foolish? The oil — the sacred sign of sustaining spirituality that keeps the lamp burning. There is no middle ground for a lamp: It is either lit and illuminating or unlit and useless for its purpose.
So too is it with faith, which I like to imagine as a verb: something we do rather than something we have. Our faith must be lived, sustained, anointed. If we know neither the hour nor the day, the only reasonable hope for salvation is a faith that is lived with constancy and fervor. For Mrs. Turpin, the revelation that inspires her conversion comes after she is knocked out by a book thrown at her neck. She sees a vision of souls processing toward heaven, a view of a divine order far more magnificent than our earthly existence. We need not be struck by a book to experience this conversion; we can simply open sacred scripture and see the call: "Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances." (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)
Lord, awaken in me a fervent and lived faith; inspire me to stay vigilant and deepen my relationship with You; guide me toward greater goodness and anoint me with Your saving grace that I may always walk in Your will until the day You return.
Daniel Gray is a teacher and writer living in Central Texas. An adult convert to Catholicism, he loves his faith-filled and inspiring wife, Regina, and his squishy son, Ezra. He writes short reflections on the Catholic life at Backward Progress.