In today’s Gospel, someone asks Jesus, “Lord, will only a few be saved?”

It’s the kind of question people still ask today —
“How many are going to heaven?” “Is it hard to be saved?”
Jesus doesn’t give statistics; He gives an invitation.

He says, “Strive to enter by the narrow door.”

He doesn’t tell us how many get through; He tells us how to get through.
The narrow door is not about God’s stinginess — it’s about our seriousness.

The image of the narrow door isn’t meant to frighten us; it’s meant to focus us.
It’s narrow not because God loves few, but because love itself is narrow —
it requires surrender, humility, and truth.

You can’t walk through the narrow door carrying your pride, or your grudges,
or your self-made righteousness. They simply won’t fit.

The door to heaven is narrow for the same reason a cross is narrow:
it strips away everything that isn’t love.

Jesus says, “Many will try to enter but will not succeed.”
Not because God bars them out,
but because they want heaven without conversion.

It’s not that God is unfair — it’s that we often are unserious.
We want the feast, but not the fasting; the crown, but not the cross.

Yet the narrow door is not hidden or locked. It’s right in front of us:
every Mass, every act of mercy, every confession, every small “yes” to grace.
Each is a step closer to that door.

Holiness isn’t dramatic; it’s daily. It’s saying no to sin, yes to grace,
and keeping your eyes fixed on Christ.

In the first reading, St Paul gives us a truth that consoles us:
“The Spirit comes to help us in our weakness.”

We’re not left to struggle alone toward that narrow door.
When our prayer is clumsy, when words fail,
when we don’t even know what to ask for —
the Holy Spirit prays within us “with sighs too deep for words.”

God doesn’t just hear our prayers; He helps us to pray them.

The Christian life isn’t about straining alone; it’s about cooperating with grace.
Grace doesn’t replace our effort — it transforms it.
It takes our weakness and turns it into strength.

So the narrow door may look impossible from the outside,
but from the inside it’s wide enough for every soul who says yes to grace.

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

The Kingdom of God always upends our expectations.
Many who seemed small on earth — the poor, the hidden, the forgotten —
will be great in heaven.
And many who looked impressive here
may discover that pride can’t pass through that narrow door.

It’s not a warning to despair, but a call to humility.
Heaven runs on mercy, not merit. But mercy only fills the hands that are empty.

So how do we live this out today?

First, by asking for the Holy Spirit’s help — every day.
When you don’t know how to pray, say, “Holy Spirit, pray in me.”

Second, by staying close to the sacraments.
The confessional is the narrow door widened by mercy.
The Eucharist is the strength that keeps us walking toward it.

Third, by remembering that the door is not only at the end of life.
It’s here, now, in every choice for Christ.

The narrow door is not God’s obstacle — it’s His invitation.
He’s not trying to keep us out; He’s trying to draw us in.

It’s narrow because it leads to something vast: the joy of heaven,
the freedom of the children of God,
the glory that Paul says awaits all who love Him.

So today, don’t fear the narrow door. Walk toward it. Travel light.
Let the Spirit carry what you can’t.
And when you reach it, you’ll find it’s been open all along —
shaped like a Cross, and wide enough for every heart that loves.