BLACKOUT
In the dark, a VOICE:
I’ll begin with women, and a Cathedral.
The Cathedral is in Strasbourg, and it’s widely regarded to be one of the finest examples of French Gothic architecture in the world. Victor Hugo described it as a gigantic and delicate marvel. Goethe, as a sublimely towering, wide-spreading tree of God. I’d say a red/brown, sandstone prayer, descended four hundred years from the clouds of heaven, immersing a soul in trances of awe and speechless respect.
Magnificent in nearly every aspect, the aspect I especially want to call your attention to is the southern portal of the western façade. There the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins is depicted, with each of the virgins standing atop a separate Doric pillar built for her alone.
To each her own.
To me the soul of the soul of the Christian Gospels is found in Matthew 25, when Jesus tells his Disciples: God will come, as King, and will say to you: I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me drink. I was a stranger, and you took me in. Naked, you clothed me. Sick, you nursed me. In prison, you visited me. And they will ask: When? When did we do anything like that for you? And the King will answer: When you did so for one of the least of these, my sisters and brothers.
So, it’s one of the Bible’s greatest ironies that Matthew 25 begins with the parable of the ten virgins. Ten maidens, all waiting, together, for their marriage to a single bridegroom, the Prince of Heaven, who happens to be inexcusably late for the wedding. Word arrives at midnight that he’s nearly there; and the ten lift up their oil lamps, and in their fresh bridal gowns and new shoes, they traipse out into the night to greet him.
But five of the brides-to-be were not so bright, bringing with them no back-up oil for their lamps; and by the time the bridegroom finally arrives, their lights have burned out, and they can’t get them relit. They innocently ask the wise virgins to share; but no luck. They are left, still virgins, while the five and their Prince party by themselves within.
Now let me conclude with two blokes in a pub, one sitting by himself (whom we will refer to as the putative bridegroom), sipping a pint, when the other (whom we’ll call Thomas, although his real name actually rhymes with Judas Priest) comes up to the table, with his pint.
Light.
THOMAS
All right?
BRIDEGROOM
All right.
THOMAS takes a seat. A brief pause as each take a sip of their ale.
THOMAS
I saw you, thinking here, alone.
BRIDEGROOM
Lots and lots…. To think about….
I’m getting married.