Gospel Reflection on Luke 13:22-30

August 24, 2025

He went on his way through towns and villages, teaching, and journeying toward Jerusalem. And some one said to him, “Lord, will those who are saved be few?” And he said to them, “Strive to enter by the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able. When once the householder has risen up and shut the door, you will begin to stand outside and to knock at the door, saying, ‘Lord, open to us.’ He will answer you, ‘I do not know where you come from.’ Then you will begin to say, ‘We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.’ But he will say, ‘I tell you, I do not know where you come from; depart from me, all you workers of iniquity!’ There you will weep and gnash your teeth, when you see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God and you yourselves thrust out. And men will come from east and west, and from north and south, and sit at table in the kingdom of God. And behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”

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A priest dies and is met by Saint Peter who tells him, "Father, we have a new system. You need 100 points to get in." And the priest begins to list many of the things that he did, Celebrating mass for forty years, Saint Peter said, that's a half a point. Then he takes a big gulp and starts to cast around looking for other good deeds that he's carried out. And finally, he's reduced to remembering how, as a teenager, he volunteered to help at a soup kitchen. And Saint Peter says, "Father, we've been at it for forty minutes, and you're up to seven points. Is there anything else you can think of?" And the priest says, "I've run out of ideas. I guess I'll have to throw myself on the mercy of God." And Peter said, "that's a 100."

What Peter is looking for is some evidence that the priest actually had a relationship to Christ. This is what we are all made for. In 1650, a French philosopher, Pascal, wrote, we have this craving, this impossible to satisfy hunger in us that suggests once we knew what it really meant to be happy, and now all that remains is this empty trace. Pascal called it a 'God shaped vacuum.' And we tried many different ways to fill this vacuum.

Some forms of escapism offer a single, simple solution. Alcohol addiction is one such route. I can drink to feel good and forget my problems. But because it's such a simple solution, it reveals itself to be empty pretty fast.

Power is a little bit more complicated. Power provides a lot of different ways to fill the emptiness. It's a lot more difficult to recognize that power is not filling up our emptiness.

The reality is that only God can fill this space, but instead of finding our place, we grasp at other things in an attempt to find fulfillment that never materializes.

And here's the rub.

Christianity, being an active Catholic, should be the right answer, should fill the space.

But strangely enough, being a good Catholic may not fix the problem. In fact, it may just make it worse. Look at where the priest looked first to find his 100 points. He listed all his religious activity. He listed the kindnesses he did for others.

He made mention of the many sacrifices he'd made over the course of his life, and it only added up to seven points.

Joining a church, and it doesn't matter which one, and committing ourselves to its rules and teachings and moral code can make us feel that we know God. But the truth is, like the priest, we're looking to find significance in things that are like Christ, but not the same. In fact, if we're not careful, being a devout Catholic can put us in the ditch beside the narrow road.

Christianity offers a lot of pretend benefits.

We can build a meaningful life around knowing the catechism and all the teachings of our faith and still not know Christ. We can take the route of service and be seen as good, helpful, and kind people and not know Christ. We can follow the path of leadership and embrace being important and producing change and not know Christ. We can construct a religious life around going to church, praying the rosary, and not know Christ. There's nothing wrong with any of these things.

In fact, they're very important. But they can distract us from Christ because we mistake them for Christ. We can't find our identity in God as an abstract concept. We can start with the Bible, but we still need to develop a personal relationship with God that is more real than the Bible. When we discover a relational God that actually desires to know us, we can draw our purpose and meaning from our unity with God and one another.

We can serve without trying to get noticed, be socially active without being self righteous, study the Bible without trying to show how worthy we are. Until we embrace a God who seeks to communicate and influence us apart from the Bible and apart from even going to church, I don't think we will ever know Christ.

If God were trying to tell us something, would we hear him? If God was trying to encourage us or point us in a new direction, would we notice? These weeks in celebrating the Eucharist, we've created these moments of silence. They're not primarily to give us time to think, but time for us to listen. We pray that we'll be free from all the many distractions, all the many pretenders, and finally be able to hear God who is waiting in silence to meet us.