Good News – Bad News
Isaiah 66:18-21; Hebrews 12:5-7; 11-13; Luke 13:22-30
As I was preparing for my homily, I recalled a story I once heard about a priest who was greeting his parishioners one evening after the 5:00 mass. He noticed a man approaching him whom he didn't recognize. As the man drew closer, the priest noticed the man’s slow gait, his eyes cast to the ground . . . his shoulders slumped as if he carried the world upon them. The priest, sensing that the man was troubled, asked if there was a problem and if there was any way he could be of assistance. The man’s eyes, brimming with tears, made contact with those of the priest. “Well Father,” the man said, “I have some good news and some bad news. Let me share with you the bad news first. I’ve just come from the doctor and he informed me that I only have an hour to live.” As you might imagine, the priest put his arm around the man to console him and expressed his sorrow for his fate. “Oh I’m so sorry” said the priest. “What horrible news! But you mentioned that you also had some good news?” “Yes,” the man said. “After sitting through your homily tonight, that hour seemed like an ETERNITY!” . . . Hopefully you won’t have the same reaction after I finish my homily this morning.
“Good news” . . . “Bad news.” That’s seems to be the dichotomy we’re presented with as we contrast our first reading and our Gospel. In the first reading, Isaiah presents us with an epic scene. People once scattered in exile are being brought back together from all corners of the world. People from every nation; foreigners and immigrants. And it is God who is bringing them together and they are given a sign of His glory. Jerusalem once devastated; once rendered to ruin and ashes is restored and rebuilt. What was once thought impossible is accomplished by God. And they who were witnesses to what God had done bring the good news of what they had seen; they bring God’s fame and glory to others. And the new converts all come processing into Jerusalem to God’s holy mountain to worship in the great Temple—the slaves and the free; the warriors and the weak; the wealthy and the slaves, “on horses and in chariots, in carts, upon mules and dromedaries.” “The new Jerusalem will include people from all nations.” God’s covenant; God’s promise to love, protect, and save is not just for a few but for all.
As we come processing today in our own ways to God’s holy place, we, too, come from all walks of life – from diverse ethnicities, backgrounds, and educations. Many of us come from all corners of our country and some from outside our country. As we gather to worship, we bring all those things that make us one—our one faith and our love for the Lord and the Eucharist.
We also bring those things which make us different—our opposing views on such matters as birth control, divorce and remarriage, and homosexuality; our conflicting ideologies and even our differences in beliefs. And we bring our personal conflicts—“disagreements among family members, troubled marriages, challenges in our jobs, unhappiness and personal battles with depression, despair and self-destructive habits. Even our children carry with them fears of their own, moving beyond fears of the dark and of monsters under the bed,” to fears of bullying and not measuring-up, of parents who argue and homes that are filled with tension. Yet we continue to come to this holy place, to the new Jerusalem, to offer worship to God, who has extended His salvation to all of us.
But the tone of our readings significantly takes a downward plunge when we hear the Gospel. Once
“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Why ask such a question? Why? Was his question one straight from Trivial Pursuit, one that is just something that would be interesting to know. Perhaps it was meant as a subtle criticism of Jesus, “Lord, exactly how many do you really think are going to take serious your message and expectations?” Maybe he thought that heaven was “small” with a few insiders and lots of outsiders, and he didn’t want to be left on the outside looking in. Or perhaps, like all of us, he was worried about the strife and the conflict, and he wanted to make sure that he was on the right track; that he was doing the right things. Possibly, he wanted a checklist of things to do to get to heaven—“Do these things; all of these things and don’t leave any out, and you’ll get to heaven.”
We don’t know what his motivation was. But what we do know is that he didn’t get the answer that he was looking for. If he was expecting a precise answer—a tenth of you, 50% of you—he had to be disappointed with Jesus’ answer. As sincere as he might have been, and whatever his motives were, Jesus sounds downright stern, and his answer is almost in the form of a rebuke. Jesus makes it personal and tells him that salvation requires effort—strenuous, intensive, and maybe even painful effort. That it will be like squeezing through a narrow door and the door won’t always remain open. And that there is urgency and we should never get overconfident, because he may be surprised who gets in and who doesn’t.
And for those who claim a special relationship with Jesus, those who ate and drank with him? Well, Jesus had only one thing to say to them and it’s an admonishment: “I do not know where you are from.”
“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” It’s a question to which we are all seeking an answer. The answer we hope to hear from Jesus is: “No, not just a few of you; but all of you. You Catholics who go to Mass every weekend and receive the sacraments. You who strive to live good lives. You decent people, who do your best; you who get involved, serve others, and share what you can afford. You!” But it’s not the answer we receive . . . is it? Salvation is not as simple as having membership in the Catholic Church. We don’t work our way to or earn our entrance through the door to heaven by some kind of spiritual workout routine—human capability and effort are just not enough.
“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” It’s so hard for us to understand this mystery of salvation, a salvation that is not limited by law, ritual, or our own expectations on who will be saved and who won’t.
We all seek assurance of our place in the next world. And we all want to be the insiders, but Jesus seems to be cautioning us about how misguided our expectations can be. All roads do not lead to heaven—only one road, one path, through one narrow gate. And that gate is him. If this sounds like a dire warning that Jesus is issuing, it is. We can’t be complacent and think that our eternities are secure. We can’t be smug and think that we’re living the lives of disciples that guarantee us an “in” position. It’s not enough that we listen to his Word proclaimed and receive his body and blood without being changed. And like those in Isaiah’s vision who were chosen to bring the message of what they had seen to others, we too are chosen to witness to what we have heard and received to others—those in our families, our friends and others in this parish who were once here with us on Sundays and are no longer. To bring them the good news and bring them back.
“Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Perhaps Jesus’ response to the disciple in today’s Gospel was really meant to say, “You know what, that’s none of your business and it’s not even the right question. The real question you should be concerned with is, “Lord, will I be saved?” And my response to that is, “What are you doing this day to make that happen?”
