Hoping for the Best, Preparing for the Worst

FIRST, I WILL tell you what “The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids” is not:

It is not a dark comedy starring Kristen Wiig, Kristen Stewart, Kristen Bell, and six other Kristens about a bachelorette party’s riverboat cruise crashing on the shores of a money-crunched Christian summer camp.

“The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids” is also not a Sufjan Stevens song about the 10 different types of clouds that hang over Lake Michigan in late autumn, just as wedding season draws to a close.

And, like most campfire tales Jesus told, it is not singular in its meaning.

I’LL SUMMARIZE IT for you. Ten bridesmaids (or “virgins,” depending on how far along you are in your religious deconstruction) go out to meet their bridegroom, lamps in hand. Some bring extra oil for their lamps; some don’t. When the bridegroom is delayed, the gals snooze but their lamps burn on. When the bridegroom finally shows himself, the oil-less bridesmaids have no light left to see him. When they ask the oily bridesmaids to share some fuel, the prepared ones decline. “What if there isn’t enough for us and you?” retorts one of the bridesmaids (best to imagine Kristen Bell saying this self-satisfied line).

So only the oil-rich bridesmaids make it to the marriage feast. Parable complete, Jesus delivers his closing commentary: “So, my disciples, always be ready! You don’t know the day or the time when all this will happen.” (Matthew 25:13).

In other words, Jesus wants us to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

I SHARED THIS parable with my husband when he questioned why I was bulk-buying batteries (modern-day lamp oil) and shoving liters of water into all the corners of our house. You see, I don’t want to be a dry-wick bridesmaid in our collapsing empire.

I suppose it’s possible that in this parable Jesus was talking about spiritually preparing for his second coming and not physically preparing for the collapse of society, but biblical interpretation is complicated and the world outside is scary. 

I’m trying to find the balance between precaution and paranoia. I don’t want to “worry about tomorrow” (Matthew 6:34) or “store up treasures” (Matthew 6:19), but I will store up some extra cans of beans and the “go bag” I put together for my family. In it you’ll find a couple of liters of water, a pocketknife, matches, masks, hand sanitizer, protein bars, a flashlight, dog food, a whistle, duct tape, a small solar panel, olive oil (the bridesmaids were on to something), and season two of Parks and Recreation on DVD (always comforting to have the determination and resourcefulness of Leslie Knope around).

Let’s hope that I never have to use the go bag, or my recently acquired foraging and fire-starting capabilities (unless I finally get a call-up from Survivor: Season 702). But I like to tell myself that acquiring all these survival skills just proves my love of life. Even if society as we know it collapses, I’m still not ready to throw in the towel on humanity (unless the “towel” is a fiberglass fire blanket, which is on next year’s Christmas wish list).