Homily for the Thirty-Second Sunday of Year A – 8 November 2026
Readings: Wisdom 6:12-16; Psalm 62(63):2-8; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Matthew 25:1-13.
I confess that I hate traffic. Isn’t it true that heavy traffic has the capacity to bring out the worst in most of us? Most of us also know the tedious experience of waiting in queues at the bank, or when renewing a car licence, or applying for a document at Home Affairs! Of these, waiting at Home Affairs has got to be the worst. That kind of waiting feels like a mindless, soul-destroying waste of time.
The kind of waiting spoken about in the readings this week is not like waiting in a queue at Home Affairs. But, in a real sense we are a “waiting” people. Each of us is waiting for something, waiting for more, waiting for something new to appear in our lives, because we sense that we are not already complete. It is a kind of longing and yearning for more, for wholeness.
What distinguishes our Christian waiting is that it is vigilant and hopeful and joyful. It is not dead time, like a queue, but a readiness that no one else can do for us. However, the sad thing is that sometimes our lives look like we are waiting in a queue at Home Affairs. On more than one occasion Pope Francis teased that there are Christians who walk around with faces like sour pickled peppers, or who look like they have just come from a funeral.
The very human vice of procrastination
Now that we are well into November, the liturgical year is coming to an end, and the readings around this time are full of warnings about being prepared. We know that in the very early Church the Christians believed that Jesus’ Second Coming, and therefore the end of the world, would come very soon, even in their lifetime. This was the situation in Thessalonica as we see in the second reading. But as time went on, it was clear that the Second Coming was not going to be so soon. The danger for the Thessalonians, and for us, is the very human vice of procrastination, that is, putting off today what we think will still be possible to do tomorrow.
The parable that Jesus tells in today’s Gospel about the ten maidens with their lamps is about being ready and waiting with vigilance for the coming of the bridegroom. In those days, the bridegroom would come to fetch his bride from her father’s house and bring her into his own house, or that of his father. The maidens were meant to welcome the bride and the groom into the household, and then the wedding banquet would follow.
In the parable we hear that five of the maidens were wise; they took oil with them for their lamps. And five were foolish; they failed to take extra oil with them, and they were not ready. The parable asks us: what does it mean to have our lamps full of oil as we wait for the coming of the bridegroom? Just as the oil could not be shared between the wise and foolish maidens, this preparedness is not something that can be done for us … We must do it for ourselves.
The oil symbolizes our good works
The oil symbolizes our good works, and the wisdom to know who we are in relation to God and to act accordingly. This is the wisdom we read about in the first reading from the Book of Wisdom. Wisdom is personified as Lady Wisdom, who is to be found by all who seek her. She is the inner light given by God to those who thirst for her and seek her. Through the gift of wisdom, God shows us the meaning of life and living. Having wisdom means being in touch with our deepest needs and longings, and knowing that ultimately it is only God who can satisfy us.
St Teresa of Calcutta wrote about the oil in the lamps of our lives. She said that it is the little everyday things: faithfulness, punctuality, kind words, thoughtfulness to another person, the way we are silent at times, the way we look at things, the way we speak, and the way we act. These are the little drops of love which make it possible for our life of faith to shine brightly.
I do not know you
Notice that a marriage feast is again the metaphor used to describe the heavenly experience. Jesus is the bridegroom of the parable, and his return to the house with his bride refers to the Second Coming, or the end of our individual earthly lives. Perhaps the most jarring thing in this parable is the harrowing reply of the bridegroom to the foolish maidens, “Truly, I say to you, I do not know you.” Imagine hearing God say these words to us: “I am sorry, I do not know who you are. I invited you to be part of my wedding, but you have never been with me. You have been asleep, or you have been going your own way.” Surely these are the most terrible words that we could ever hear.
Jesus sums up the meaning of his parable by saying, “Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” In other words, wait in readiness and vigilance. Part of our readiness will be knowing the signs of the times and waiting in anticipation, so that we are not caught unawares. We need to forgive those who need forgiveness, say what needs to be said, do what needs to be done. We keep vigil when we go to Confession often, receive the other Sacraments, pray, and give alms to the poor.
The opposite of this readiness and vigilance is the procrastination that threatened the Thessalonians: getting so immersed in the day to day realities of this world that we neglect the place of God in our lives. We may be postponing our faith practice, thinking that there will always be time to get around to it, that we are too busy at the moment, that there are more important concerns. The readings for today tell us that to do that is to run the ultimate risk.
We are to wait in hope
There are two aspects that characterise our waiting: we are to wait without fear, and we are to wait in hope. Firstly, waiting without fear means being vigilant without stress. The coming of the Lord is what our whole lives are about, the meaning and purpose of our existence. It will be the fulfilment in us of what Jesus began in his life, death and resurrection. Through his saving death and resurrection, the Lord has remedied our sinfulness, our estrangement from God. Our woundedness finds healing, and wholeness is made possible in Jesus.
Secondly, we are to wait with hope. Our whole lives can be orientated around this waiting in hope because it will be the fulfilment of our deepest longings and desires. Our waiting in hope brings joy into our lives because it means we are living out the Good News.
Our vigilant waiting can be shaped by short prayers
Our vigilant waiting can be shaped by short prayers like this one, which can be said at any time of our day: “Lord, grant that all my thoughts, intentions, actions and responses may be directed solely to your love and service. Help me, Lord, to seek, to find, and to respond to you in every single experience this day.” If we live in the spirit of this prayer, Jesus will be no stranger to us when he comes.
Many of us have had the experience at Home Affairs of finally reaching the counter, after hours of waiting, only to be told that we don’t have the right document, and we must go home and come back another day. The foolish maidens discovered the same thing, but for them there was no other day. The door was shut. When we hear the final call, “Get up! the Master is coming!”, there will be no going home to fetch what we have forgotten, and no borrowing from the person behind us in the queue. So let us keep our lamps filled now, drop by little drop, so that when the bridegroom comes we are ready – not with faces like sour pickled peppers, but with the joy of people on their way to a wedding feast.
