God’s Answer
A man in Luke’s Gospel asks Christ a bold question: will many be saved, or only a few? Christ does not respond to this question with a rebuke, or with another question. He answers:
“Strive to enter by the narrow gate; for many, I say to you, shall seek to enter, and shall not be able” (Luke 13:23-24).
What are we to make of this? Firstly, we must recognize that Christ chose to respond to this question. He typically reserved His rebukes and counter-questions for people asking questions in bad faith or stepping out of line. He saw fit to give this question an answer. That means this is a legitimate, even pious question. It implicitly asks, “Lord, what type of life is pleasing to you?” acknowledging the fact that we are hopeless to judge such things for ourselves. The lukewarm Christian often sees the living saint as a complete psychopath rather than a role model because his behavior is such a rarity. Yet, if salvation is a rarity, then we must act as men rarely do to attain it! And that leads to the second point: we must understand His answer is clear. The gate is narrow. Many will not pass through it.
Is this, perhaps, some wordplay? Did I just choose a verse to make a point, ignoring context? To the contrary. Matthew records Him using the same metaphor with even more clarity, and unprompted: “enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it” (Matt. 7:13-14). Elsewhere, the Lord concludes a parable about salvation by saying that “many are called, but few are chosen” (Matt. 22:14).
Further still, the remainder of Holy Scripture affirms His words. In the Great Flood, only eight of the human race survived. God only saved four from Sodom and Gomorrah – and even one among them was lost upon looking back. Out of the whole earth, God only chose Israel. Out of the millions who left Egypt, only Caleb and Joshua made it to the Promised Land. Rahab and her family are the only ones to survive the judgment of Jericho. Out of the twelve tribes of Israel, Assyria destroyed ten that went into schism. Isaiah compared the saved to grapes left after the pickers have passed. St. Peter wrote that “[even] the just man is scarcely saved.” St. Paul wrote that fornicators, idolaters, (active) homosexuals, thieves, covetous, drunkards, gossips, and cheats – how great a number of mankind falls into at least one of these descriptions? – are reprobate.
Christ’s words agree with the saints, who take a practical position on the subject. St. Augustine, interpreting Luke’s Gospel, said “[it is] doubtless there are but few who are saved.” Venerable Lucy of Fatima said, “taking into account the behavior of mankind, only a small part of the human race will be saved.” St. Thomas – following similar premises – bluntly stated in the Summa that “[the] saved are in the minority.” And of course, their points make sense in light of infallible tradition, which, codified succinctly at the Council of Florence, states that there is no salvation outside of unity with the Catholic Church (though of course, in some cases, unity may not be visibly apparent). Yet even among Catholics – armed with the fullness of truth and the sacraments – how few are willing to follow her teachings on masturbation, contraception, gossip, Sunday Mass attendance, and so on?
But Why?
The saved are few indeed; but this is not because we’re in a competition. This is not because God only wants a certain number to make the cut. This is not because God wants us damned. In fact, God is the one who gives us salvation; we do not earn it ourselves. And He does so infallibly – nothing can frustrate God’s will. Nothing. Christ says, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow Me… No one will snatch them out of My hand” (John 10:27-28). Those whom God chooses to save, will be saved. No one will snatch them out of His hand. If, then, so few are saved, it is not because God has treated them as an enemy. It is because they treat God as an enemy, refusing to rest in the perfect safety of His hands.
This applies to those who deny God formally. St. Augustine says that “he who denies the existence of God, has some reason for wishing that God did not exist.” The heathen lives a life celebrating the mutable and the low – worshiping golden calves, as it were. That sort of life will most certainly warp them into a culpable indifference towards the love of God and the passion of the Savior – that is, if they were not already guilty of that from the outset. If “even the just man shall scarcely be saved, what shall become of the ungodly?” (1 Peter 4:18).
This applies to those who deny the Catholic Church formally. We may adjust Augustine’s words to say, “he who denies the authority of the Church, has some reason for wishing it did not exist.” Pagans lucidly worship their golden calves, making their heathenry perhaps more culpable than that of the atheist. Muslims worship their “god” of war, lust, and power and make a moral example of their “prophet,” a depraved, lying, warmongering, polygamous pederast who shamelessly lowered the perfect example and person of Christ below his own. Rabbinical Jews worship their lineage, yet do not succeed in joining themselves to the law and prophets they guard so jealously, but rather to those wicked Pharisees who would sooner kill Christ than give up their privileges. The Protestants worship themselves, always referencing themselves as the final spiritual authority, as if each and every one were Christ.
This finally applies to those who deny God “informally” by denying their conscience, the Church, and the example of the saints. We cannot say our salvation is sure merely by virtue of our allegiance. None who willfully reject Christ will be saved; yet not all who profess His name will be saved (Matt. 7:21-23). “Whoever says, ‘I have come to know Him,’ but does not obey His commandments, is a liar… whoever says, ‘I abide in Him,’ ought to walk just as He walked” (1 John 2:4-6). Just as He walked. Not “kind of like He walked.” Are we, then, in the hand of God? We must look within, not without. Does something come before His commandments? Does something corrupt our dutiful work of imitating Christ?
Are our mouths occupied with thanksgiving, or with complaining? Does prayer entertain us, or do those things which Christ died to save us from entertain us? Are we concerned with compassion for those who depend on us, or with flattering those who can aid our ambitions? Is prayer a priority, or is our current hobby? Are we concerned with protecting the chastity of your brothers and sisters, or do we carelessly invite sin with immodest, skin-tight, revealing clothing? Do we applaud the arrest of those who steal bread while we pirate games, movies, and sporting events? Do we eat to sustain our bodies and fast to sustain our souls, or must our every meal be a feast?
Are we afraid to catechize our friends and families, yet unafraid to watch licentious, violent, nihilistic, blasphemous movies with them? Is Sunday a Holy day of deliberate rest, or is it the day we do our shopping? Do we drink in moderation, or does our enjoyment begin when we cross the threshold of “one too many?” Do we bow our heads at the sound of Christ’s name, or are we careless with it? Are we diligent about our Friday penance, or are we not even aware that Friday penance is mandatory for all Catholics, every Friday of the year? Are we intimately familiar with the activities of our local parish, or are we intimately familiar with this week’s outrage in Washington? Do we trust in God’s providence, or are we constantly occupied with worldly anxieties?
Do we weep for our own depravity in confession, or do we confess the sins of others? Are we silent until we speak in kindness, or must we make every idle – or evil – thought known? Do we flee from gossip, or are we keen to hear the most sordid doings of our neighbors? Are we willing to labor and suffer day and night for salvation, or is that effort only reserved for our finances? Do the things we own help us to serve the Lord, or do we merely buy what gratifies us? When wronged, do we suffer in peace and wish our enemy well, or do we sacrifice our peace to retaliate? Do we forgive our neighbors earnestly and joyfully, or do we hold a grudge? Are we constantly, fervently praying for the conversion of our friends and families, or does their mere temporal satisfaction tranquilize us?
Do we rest peacefully under the yoke and shelter of Christ’s commands, or do we live a double-life?
Judgment
What follows is a paraphrase of St. Alphonsus, doctor of the Church, regarding particular judgment:
God appoints men to die once, and after this, judgment. It is the common opinion of the theologians that at the very moment and in the very place in which the soul departs from the body, the divine tribunal is erected, the accusation is read, and the sentence is passed by Jesus Christ, the Judge. At this tribunal, each of us shall give an account for every thought, every word, and every deed. On this judgment hangs eternity. Nearing death, the memory of sins, the rigor of God’s judgment, and the uncertainty of salvation have made many saints tremble.
What answer shall sinners make to Christ when He says to them: I am your Redeemer and judge, whom you have despised? Where shall they escape to, when the Judge is above, hell is open below, the devils accuse them, and their conscience burns within? How can he cry for mercy who must first render an account of his contempt for the mercy Christ has shown him? With what face will he, who is first to be judged for contempt of mercy, ask for mercy?
At the divine tribunal, the poor sinner shall see himself accused by the devil. According to St. Augustine, the devil will recite the words of his profession and will charge him with his sins – the day, and the hour. He will enumerate the promises he made to God, and violated. He will, according to St. Cyprian, conclude his accusation by saying that he hardly struggled to make him his slave. The sinner will find no advocate anywhere. Whatever he had on earth – nobility, wealth, tact, honor – has no weight. His guardian angel will recount how long he labored for the sinners’ salvation, and how it amounted to nothing. His very sins will scream from his conscience, saying, “you have made us, and we will not abandon you.”
If the Lord will examine every glance, every idle word, and even our good works – works of mercy, confessions, communions, prayer – with what rigor will He examine immodesty, blasphemy, gossip, theft, and sacrilege? We forget our sins; Christ does not. On that day, every soul shall see, to its great confusion, the true breadth of evils it has committed. And what shall the sinner say? That the inclinations of nature drew him to sin? How, when God would have given him every grace to resist them, if he had only had recourse to Him through the sacraments? Will the sinner say the devil tempted him? How, when the enemy is like a leashed dog, and can only bite him who steps too close? Will he advance his bad habits as an excuse? Certainly not; St. Augustine tells us our habits cannot overcome us unless we abandon ourselves.
How great shall be the joy of the man who hears Christ say, “well done, good and faithful servant?” Yet, equally great will be the anguish and despair of the guilty soul who hears the words, “depart from me, thou accursed, into the everlasting fire.” The sentence is irrevocable. Judgment is final. “Before judgment,” says St. Augustine, “the Judge can be appeased, but not in judgment. By a change of life we can now appease the anger of Jesus Christ, and recover His grace. But when He shall judge, and find us in sin, He must execute justice.”
Strive to enter by the narrow gate; for many, I say to you, shall seek to enter, and shall not be able.