“At midnight the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’

“Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’

“‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’

“But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.

“Later the others also came. ‘Sir! Sir!’ they said. ‘Open the door for us!’

“But he replied, ‘I tell you the truth, I don’t know you.’

“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.”

Christine snorted involuntarily at Prophet Jonas’ straight-faced delivery of the closing sentence, and then, sensing eyes upon her, turned her attention back to finding a six-letter word for “banal.”

Prophet Jonas, undeterred at her outburst, set down the Bible and exclaimed, “Behold, the Ten Virgins!”

The crowd clapped politely for the girls, who shivered and smiled weakly.

“Behold!” Jonas exclaimed again, “The Five Wise Virgins!”

The five girls furthest to the left reached down with their left hands and each picked up a one gallon can of kerosene. Well, except for the girl in the middle, who had a milk jug that had been half-filled with kerosene. The middle Wise Virgin had absent-mindedly left her can in Carson City, and had to borrow a milk jug and half a gallon of kerosene from one of the other Wise Virgins – a violation of the spirit of the ceremony that did not go unnoticed by Prophet Jonas.

The crowd clapped for the Wise Virgins. “Go Carly!” yelled Carly’s mother through cupped hands, for no apparent reason.

“Behold!” Jonas hollered once more. “The Five Foolish Virgins!”

The five girls on the right looked at their feet, but finding no cans of kerosene there, pantomimed a sort of ditzy disappointment, holding out their free hands as if to say, “Whoops, I am such a Foolish Virgin, forgetting my oil. Whatever shall I do?”

Christine rolled her eyes and glanced at the display of her cell phone. 5:23. Twenty-one minutes until she could go home.

Second Prophet Noah Bitters, who was – not coincidentally – First Prophet Jonas’ younger, better looking, but less charismatic brother, next led the crowd in quavering renditions of “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” and (less appropriately) “Michael Row Your Boat Ashore.” Christine couldn’t help but notice several of the Foolish Virgins jockeying for the Second Prophet’s attention.