I was reading the story of the ten virgins in Matthew 25 this morning and it reminded me of the many questions I used to have as a child reading this passage. You see, back then whenever my mum read or referred to that passage or similar passages that contrasted right and wrong, there was […]
I was reading the story of the ten virgins in Matthew 25 this morning and it reminded me of the many questions I used to have as a child reading this passage.
You see, back then whenever my mum read or referred to that passage or similar passages that contrasted right and wrong, there was this undertone that I was the ‘wrong’ and my brother was the ‘right’. And this sort of implied comparison filled my childhood.
So whenever it was read in church, there was this guilt that burdened my heart. And at that time, I couldn’t help but marvel at the wickedness of this bridegroom.
Why would the bridegroom not allow them to enter when they later found oil? Didn’t the wise virgins inform the bridegroom that they were 10 and the rest had gone to get oil? And since Jesus was represented in the story as the bridegroom, why wasn’t he merciful? Why were the wise virgins so wicked that they couldn’t share, even just a bit after all the bridegroom had arrived? Why did they all have to carry an individual lamp? Couldn’t two people have used one? Yes, the foolish virgins didn’t get extra oil, but did that mean they were unworthy?
These were questions I pondered several times but never got answers to.
Today, as I read, with obviously a better understanding of scriptural language and other non-English languages like Yoruba, and the many innuendos, contexts, and cultural undertones that many non-native speakers would grapple with, I have different questions in mind.
What popular cultural story or tradition was implied or borrowed to tell that parable? In what context was a lamp an individual accessory in that society? What tradition between bridegrooms and virgins (actually translated as bridesmaids) existed then? What did the first audience know in that age and culture that made the story very relatable, something I, miles and years away, will find difficult to understand?
But more importantly, what point was the writer (or Jesus) really trying to make?
You see, outside the proper context, there’s not much meaning to a text, and any text can mean anything.
Just like a friend who could not understand why the Yoruba elders were placing a curse on a child for a simple look in the song “Ọmọ tó mọ́’yá ẹ̀ lójú ò, òsì yíò t’ọmọ náà pa.” But with a better understanding now, realize it is not a curse but a call for caution, an obvious stating of the consequence of an action. And the song was not only referring to mothers, as though it is fine to do that to fathers. Nor was it only about “eye movements”, but that despising elderly wisdom/instructions will surely lead to loss of opportunities, privileges, and wealth.
Just as the statement “las las, na everybody go chop breakfast” has nothing remotely to do with French toast or early morning bread and Ẹ̀wà Àgànyìn, even though, drawing a comparison with that. One could argue that there is ‘breakfast’ and ‘chop’ (to eat) in that statement, and nothing about it should be short of excitement and joy, but a native speaker would understand the context, the meanings, and its sober nature.
Anything, any scripture, can be made to mean something else if the context is replaced or taken literally.
This calls for a constant reflective view of the scriptures. Is what we understand actually what the writer had in mind to communicate, or have we ended up with a potpourri of misinterpreted contexts and mismatched meanings?
In the end, Bible study is a patient exercise, for self, and others, one that is not to be rushed, not because of any deliberate difficulty by itself, but because human language and comprehension, both of the writers, translators, and readers, are dynamic, and adds apparent complexities.
So tell me, what similar Bible passages do you struggle to grasp, understand, or accept? Could it be a real issue or something simply lost in the many translations and transliterations we read?
I am the ImisiOluwa; I hope this makes some sense to you.
