On our life journey it is natural to ask whether we are ‘in
or out’ of heaven. The teaching on the narrow door (Luke 13:24) addresses his
followers and other Jews on their way to Jerusalem. The question on the number
of the saved when the Messiah comes, when the Son of man comes in his glory,
when Christ establishes the kingdom, shows their concern about their being ‘in’
or ‘out’ of a system of sanctified power. The image of the ‘narrow door’ (Luke
13:24) directly challenges the assumption of automatic salvation based on
religious affiliation or by being a prideful ‘chosen people.’
Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem in Luke’s Gospel (i.e.
9:51–19:27), is a final phase of his ministry. He is knowingly walking toward
the city that “kills the prophets and stones those sent to it” (Luke 13:34).
During this time, his teachings focus on what it truly means to follow him.
After his entry to the city, he will mournfully weep over Jerusalem, foreseeing
its ruin. In today’s Gospel, there is a teaching and a warning. The teaching is
to strive to enter through the narrow door, and the warning is about the
rejection of those who had claims of great familiarity with the master of the
house.
The Great Banquet in Isaiah 25: 6-8 is set on Mount Zion, a
politically and religiously significant place. But the heart of the very system
of Jerusalem has become exclusive and nationalistic. God’s favour became a
monopoly of the people of Jerusalem, ‘the first’ among ‘the chosen’ people. The
meal is described as “a feast of rich food ... of well-aged wine,” a banquet of
abundance and joy. This great abundance contrasts with the transactional ‘give
and take’ of the temple system, where sacrifices and offerings were must for
God’s favour. God freely provides the
feast for those who are the least and the last.
The religious leaders of Jerusalem saw themselves as the
rightful and only guests at God’s table, but did not know the heart of God.
Instead of being an exclusive meal for the chosen people, the banquet as a sign
of God’s authority over death and evil is a universal celebration, a banquet
for the entire world (Isaiah 25:6). The meal is not the end goal. This feast is
not simply a reward for the righteous but an act of unconditional love which is
a celebration of life and wipes away tears from all faces. This banquet is an
ongoing participation in divine action and a mutual completion of joy. The purpose of God’s presence is to heal a
broken world. The God of Isaiah’s banquet is a God of radical vulnerability and
self-giving hospitality, who embraces all nations. It is a challenge to any
religious system that seeks to control access to God’s love and grace and keep
them reserved for the privileged.
When Jesus announced the gospel, he found that the
privileged, the first, and the righteous rejected the feast. Jerusalem rejected
Jesus and killed him. The divine feast was filled with the ‘poor, the crippled,
the blind, and the lame.’ The Jerusalem-centric notion of a privileged place at
God’s table is entirely subverted. The ‘last’ will be welcomed in from all
corners of the earth, while the ‘first,’ who were secure in their religious
identity, are now explicitly told that they will be rejected from the heavenly
feast. The claim, “We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our
streets” shows claims of overfamiliarity with God and affirms their
unquestionable place with God. Jesus’ response “I do not know where you come
from” is a statement of radical disconnect. It is a reminder that the eating
and drinking and hearing him in the streets have miserably missed out on
something.
There is an ever-open gate of unconditional love and mercy
of God. In person that is Christ the door.
Our self-righteousness, and comfortable assumptions of God and heaven
have made us too big, hard and bitter to enter that gate. These are the
treasures secured and sanctified by the religion centred on power and greed.
These great possessions, and the gods that rejoice over them must be left aside
to follow Jesus. Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan redefined neighbourly
love not by shared religion or heritage but by radical, compassionate action
toward anyone in need – another narrow gate.
In chapter 15, Jesus’ parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the
prodigal son are a direct response to the judgmental attitude of the religious
elite. This is a challenge to their self-righteousness. Their spiritual pride,
their sense of deservedness, is a ‘wide road’ that keeps them from the narrow
gate of empathy and mercy. The first (the religious elite) became last (in
terms of acting out God's will) because they prioritized law over love. The
holy city, the temple, made them privileged and favoured. Even God was
powerless to break that system.
Jerusalem, more than a place, was a system of religious,
political and economic monopoly. Historically, Jerusalem was not part of the
ancestral land divisions given to the tribes of Israel. David’s capture of this city was a political
move. He brought the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. It was decided to be the
very dwelling place of God, and the centre of tradition, law, and religious
power. By centralizing God’s dwelling place, he centralized his own rule. While
the concept was that God ‘chose’ to dwell in the Temple, in practice, the
Temple served to contain God’s presence within a human-made institution. This
created a belief that God’s favour and protection were tied to the physical
structure and the rituals performed there. Thus, Jerusalem was a source of
‘sanctified power’ that was legitimized by being tied to a holy place and the
customs formulated accordingly. This system, while serving a religious
function, also solidified the power of the priesthood and the monarchy, making
them the mediators of the divine. They formulated a covenantal framework that
saw God’s presence residing within a closed sacred space, accessible primarily
through the rituals and mediation of the priesthood. This created an ‘us versus
them’ mentality, where the religious insider was assured of their place at
God's table. This same system, in its rigid adherence to legalism and its own
institutional power, rejected and killed the very ‘author of life.’
A picture of a royal dining of the privileged and the
favoured within a self-serving religious system do not suit the heavenly
banquet of Jesus. The banquet parables serve as a counter-cultural narrative
against the boisterous ritualistic function of the Holy City. God's grace
overflows the boundaries of the Temple and is offered freely to those who have
nothing to offer in return.
The gate to enter into the great banquet is narrow. Jesus
clearly told that following him would not give a status like being a disciple
of a great Rabbi. The discipleship is not defined by following a set of
external rules. It is all about self-denial and unwavering commitment. The
Banquet parable in the next chapter (Luke 14:15-24) points to the rejection of
the gospel by the social and religious elite.
The least and the last are brought in to fill the feast. There, God’s
grace extends to all, not just to a privileged few. Stories like the Good
Samaritan taught that true righteousness is found in compassionate action. This
narrow door is one of self-giving love and mercy, a path that often runs
counter to the legalistic and judgmental nature of organized religion, a
preferred wide gate.
The Christian life and the celebration of the Eucharist
should not be ending up in the risk of mere eating and drinking and hearing of
innumerous numbers of
preaching of the Word of God. The
Eucharist is not a magical ritual that guarantees salvation based on mere
devotional attendance. It is a re-enactment of Christ’s ultimate act of vulnerability and grace, entering
into a threefold communion Jesus realised – communion with the Father, communion with us, and
our communion with one another. We often create a heaven and God who is
enthroned there that is comfortable for us. We celebrate that safe space on a
wide road. The narrow gate is a call that requires a courageous and
compassionate listening to our own vulnerabilities and a humble surrender to
the tender heart of God. It heals our injuries and makes us whole, having put
on Christ. It is an invitation to leave the wide road of legalistic pride and
superfluous, boisterous familiarity with God, and step through the narrow gate
of vulnerability, mercy, and compassion.
This path is narrow because it requires immense discipline,
an unwavering mind, and an open mind to learn. It demands honest self-inquiry
and a willingness to confront and transcend our self-centred believes, gods,
and perspectives. It makes wilful efforts to resist comforts and pleasure, that
come from power and wealth often sanctified by religious flavour. Since this
evil is under the disguise of the sacred, we require deep reflections on the
truth of events, beliefs, and even holy persons. Narrow road is a Tapasya which
involves intense effort and voluntary self-denial to expand the horizons of the
mind and body. Narrow road is to break
our hard shells in surrender of the whole self and an embrace of vulnerability.
Extension happens in empathy, mercy, compassion, service and selfless love. In
doing so, we heal our own wounds and find our rightful place in the
compassionate unfolding of the path of grace.
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