Homily – Known by Name

Brothers and sisters, Today’s Gospel is not about numbers. It is about names.

The tragedy Jesus describes is not a long queue of strangers. It is people knocking on the door, people who thought they were close: “We ate and drank with you. You taught in our streets.”

And the reply: “I do not know you.”

That is the horror.
Not that God doesn’t exist. Not that Heaven is full.
But that the Master looks and says: “I don’t recognise you.”

Salvation is not a statistic. It is a relationship.

To be saved is to be known by Christ.

The prophet Isaiah speaks of God gathering all nations to see His glory. Not to tick their names on a register, but to draw them into His family.

Hebrews says the Lord disciplines His children. He disciplines us because we are His, because He knows us as sons and daughters.

Heaven is not an anonymous crowd. It is a household where everyone is known by name.

The danger, then, is not ignorance.
The people outside the door knew who Jesus was.
They listened. They ate in His company.

Their danger was presumption.

They assumed proximity was enough.
They assumed familiarity was faith.
They assumed knowledge was obedience.

And presumption is the quiet killer of the soul.

It whispers: “I was baptised. I go to Mass sometimes. I know the prayers. That’s enough.”

But the Gospel says: No.
Faith without obedience is dead.
Presence without grace is empty.
Knowing about Christ is not the same as being known by Him.

Here’s clarity.

We are not saved by vague belief.
We are not saved by private opinion.
We are not saved by belonging to a social circle.

We are saved through living communion with Christ in His Church.

He knows us when we are joined to His Body through Baptism.
He recognises us when we walk back to Him in Confession.
He feeds us with His very Self in the Eucharist — so that His life becomes ours.

To be Catholic is not just to wear a label.
It is to live in grace, in obedience, in communion.

Hebrews gives us a teaching many avoid. It says: “The Lord disciplines the one He loves.”

The world says: “If God loves you, He will affirm you exactly as you are.”
Scripture says: “If God loves you, He will correct you until you are holy.”

Which is true love?
The parent who leaves a child to run into the road, or the one who pulls them back from it?

The mark of belonging is not freedom from correction. It is correction itself.
If you are never challenged by the Church, never stretched, never disciplined — beware. A Church that never says “no” is not mother, but indulgent babysitter.

Isaiah foresaw a day when God’s glory would draw every nation to Jerusalem.

That is the Catholic Mass.

This morning, from Nigeria to Nottingham, from Peru to Poland, from villages to cathedrals, the same sacrifice is offered, the same Gospel is proclaimed, the same Lord is received.

Every Mass is Isaiah’s prophecy fulfilled: the nations gathered, the glory revealed.

No other religion or philosophy even attempts this universality. The Church is Catholic because Christ is King of all, not some.

We talk of the “narrow door” and imagine difficulty. But the narrowness is not cruelty. It is clarity.

Truth is always narrow.

One God, not many.

One Lord, not a pantheon.

One Eucharist, not a buffet.

You cannot believe contradictory things and call it faith.
You cannot live in mortal sin and call it grace.
You cannot reject the Church and claim communion with Christ.

The door is narrow because truth is narrow. But it is wide enough for every sinner who repents.

Jesus ends with a reversal: “Some who are first will be last, and some who are last will be first.”

That is not a lottery. It is justice.

The world’s forgotten may shine in glory.

The world’s powerful may be pushed aside.

Those with no reputation but faithful hearts may walk ahead of those with fame but no obedience.

Heaven’s hierarchy is not built on appearances, but on grace.

When the door shuts, nothing else will matter.

Not your CV.
Not your bank account.
Not your followers.

What will matter is whether Christ looks at you and says: “I know you. You are mine.”

And that recognition is not earned by tricks or achievements.
It is given through grace.
It is sealed in Baptism.
It is restored in Confession.
It is fed in the Eucharist.
It is proven in obedience.

So what does this mean for us today?

Don’t presume. Don’t say: “I’m Catholic, therefore I’m fine.” Ask: “Am I living in grace?”

Don’t resist correction. See discipline as proof of God’s love.

Don’t settle for being around Jesus. Be in Him — in His Church, in His sacraments.

Don’t confuse appearance with reality. Seek the substance of grace, not the shell of habit.

The narrow door is not a barrier. It is a Person. It is Christ.

The question is not: “Do you know about Him?”
The question is: “Does He know you?”

And when the last door closes, the difference will not be between good and bad people, but between strangers and sons.

So live as His.
Be recognised as His.
Stay faithful as His.

Because in the end, there are only two verdicts:
“I do not know you.”
Or:
“I know you — you are mine. Enter into the joy of your Lord.”