Homily – Through the Narrow Door

The Gospel today is blunt. Someone asks Jesus: “Lord, will those who are saved be few?” He doesn’t give statistics. He gives a warning:

“Strive to enter through the narrow door. For many will try and will not be able.”

That’s not comfortable. But it’s true.

We love numbers. How many get in? How many won’t? But Jesus ignores the question. He looks us in the eye and says: Don’t worry about others. Worry about your soul.

You won’t be saved by being part of a crowd.
You won’t be judged by majority vote.
It will be you. Face to face.

Why narrow? Because the door is not an idea.
Not a system.
Not a philosophy.

The door is Christ Himself.

He said: “I am the Door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved.” (John 10:9)
He said: “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” (John 14:6)

Not many doors.
Not all religions equal.
Not “be nice and it’s fine.”

One Lord. One Faith. One Baptism. One Church.

The word “strive” in Greek is agonízomai — from which we get “agony.” It means to wrestle. To fight. To sweat.

Heaven is not for the lazy.
Not for the indifferent.
Not for those who drift.

If your faith costs you nothing, it is worth nothing.

Jesus imagines the scene: people outside banging on the door. “Lord, open to us! We ate and drank with You. You taught in our streets.”

But the answer comes: “I do not know you.”

That’s chilling.
Because it means you can be near Jesus without belonging to Him.
You can hear His Word.
You can eat and drink in His presence.
You can tick “Catholic” on a census form.
And still be unknown to Him.

Proximity is not discipleship.
Attendance is not obedience.
Knowing about Jesus is not the same as being known by Jesus.

Our first reading from Isaiah promised that God’s glory would be seen by all nations. From every corner of the earth, they would come to worship in Jerusalem.

That prophecy is fulfilled in the Catholic Church. One altar. One sacrifice. One universal mission. Every nation, every tongue.

The Church is not a club. Not a hobby. Not a local branch.

She is the Bride of Christ. The Ark of Salvation. The narrow door made visible.

Hebrews tells us: “The Lord disciplines the one He loves.”

God is not a sentimental grandfather who winks at sin. He is a Father. A real Father. And a father who never corrects doesn’t love.

Discipline proves love. Correction is mercy.
If God leaves you in sin, that’s abandonment. If He chastens you, that’s care.

Pain can be grace.
Struggle can be love.
Trials can be training for glory.

If your life is always easy, ask if you are carrying a cross.

Jesus says: “Some who are first will be last, and some who are last will be first.”

The hidden saint will outrank the celebrity preacher.
The grandmother with her rosary will outshine the politician with slogans.
The prisoner who repents may walk ahead of the bishop who compromised.

Don’t be fooled by appearances.
God isn’t.

Some say: “It’s me and Jesus. I don’t need the Church.”

But notice: Jesus says, “Tell it to the Church” (Matthew 18:17).
He says, “Whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven”

He gives the keys to Peter.

Reject the Church, and you reject the authority Christ Himself set up.

The sacraments are not optional extras.
The Pope is not decoration.
The Church is not one option among many.

She is the Body of Christ. She is the Bride. She is the ark in which we are saved.

Outside the ark, the flood wins. Inside, grace saves.

The narrow way is hard. Impossible on an empty stomach. That’s why Christ gives us His Body and Blood.

The Eucharist is not a symbol.
Not a memory.
Not a mere reminder.

It is survival.
The Bread of Angels.
The strength of martyrs.
The food of eternal life.

Without it, you starve. With it, you live.

Think of the Titanic.
People trusted in its size, its luxury, its human pride. But when it sank, one question mattered: Were you in the lifeboat?

Brothers and sisters, the world is the Titanic.
The Church is the lifeboat.
The Eucharist is the food for the voyage.

Being near the boat is not enough. You must get in.

Jesus says the Master will rise and shut the door.

Once it shuts, there are no appeals.
No clever arguments.
No “I meant well.”

Hell will be full of people surprised to find themselves there. People who assumed. People who drifted. People who delayed.

Do not be one of them.

So how do we live this today?

• Confess your sins. Stop carrying them. Drop them at the Cross.
• Receive the Eucharist. Worthily, reverently, often.
• Obey the Church. She has the keys. Don’t wander outside the ark.
• Live mercy. Forgive as you want to be forgiven.

Step through the door. Stay in.

The door is narrow. But it is open today.

The way is hard. But grace makes it possible.

The choice is urgent. But it is yours.

So don’t drift. Don’t delay. Don’t gamble on tomorrow.

Christ is the Door. The Cross is the key. The Church is the ark.

The Eucharist is the food.

One day the door will close forever.
And in that moment, titles, wealth, and excuses will vanish.

What will remain is only this:
Were you known by Christ?
Were you faithful to the end?