The Door is Narrow

Reflections on the Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time: Isaiah 66:18–21, Hebrews 12:5–7, 11–13, and Luke 13:22–30

“Strive to enter through the narrow door”, says Jesus. One may ask: why is the door to life narrow? Is it simply a technical or architectural flaw, or is there a deeper meaning? The door is narrow because it can only be entered by one person at a time. It’s not a passage for crowds inflicted with a ‘mob’ or ‘herd’ mentality. Access to life is open to all, but the decision to enter is a personal choice. Let’s not be mistaken: faith is fundamentally communal. We receive and practice it from our parents, our families, and from the witness of the believing community that is the Church. In India, we often say, “Dharm ka beej maa ke god mein padta hai”, meaning, “The seed of faith is sown in a mother’s lap”.

Yes, we live and practice our faith in community, through liturgy, the sacraments, and our commitments to social change. Yet faith also calls each of us to walk a personal path of seeking and discernment, a personal invitation to choose, to internalise our convictions, and to embrace a particular way of being and acting. We are supported by a community, surrounded by a “cloud of witnesses” who show us the way, but ultimately, discipleship is a decision each of us must make. Faith requires a personal relationship with God, an assent of our whole being—intellect, will, and emotions—to God’s self-revelation. But to enter the door of life, we must each take that step, make that journey, that pilgrimage which brings us fully into the presence of God.

Secondly, the door is narrow because it’s not built to let through our excess baggage. We must let go of two kinds of burdens. First, the heavy loads of our past that we refuse to relinquish: the weight of our sins, our guilt, old wounds, fears and anxieties, grudges, resentments, and anger. As St. Thérèse of Lisieux said, “Holiness is God’s strength in human weakness.” Second, the baggage of our provisions—what we’ve stored up for our own comfort: records of our sacrifices, our piety, our merits, our good works, and our craving for recognition or reward. One must be small to pass through the small door. On July 11, 1954, in his radio message for the consecration of the Basilica of St. Thérèse of Child Jesus in Lisieux, Pope Pius XII said: “The door, truly narrow but accessible to all, is the door of humility. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, having entered by it into heaven, stands at the threshold, her arms full of roses, showing the way of spiritual childhood.”

As the mystic poet Kabir once said, “Chhod diya sab, tab hi sukh paya”—“I found peace only when I let go of everything.” To enter the door of life, we must be freed from the burdens of our past and freed from the weight of our self-made securities for the future. The way of life is light, and it can only be walked in simplicity and detachment. In early Christian monasteries, like in Egypt’s Wadi Natrun or Mount Athos in Greece, entrances were purposely made narrow, low and tight, requiring monks to stoop or squeeze through, symbolising submission to God’s will. A story is told of Mahatma Gandhi, who once missed a train and, in haste, dropped a sandal as the train was leaving. Instead of despairing, he threw the other sandal after it. When asked why, he replied, “A poor man who finds the sandal on the track might now have a pair.” That is the narrow path of detachment, generosity, and simplicity.

“Strive”, says the Gospel. The Greek word used here is agonizomai, meaning to struggle, to engage in an agonising effort. It involves dying to oneself. Entrance through the door of life is a free gift, but it is not cheap: we are called to a life of virtue, to the sacrifice of letting go, and to the discipline of squeezing through the narrow door. The Letter to the Hebrews encourages us to “strengthen our drooping hands and our weak knees” (Hebrews 12:12). It speaks of discipline, not as punishment but as formation. Like a guru training a disciple, God sometimes challenges us so that our faith becomes rooted, not just rehearsed. Let us make a personal, deliberate choice to strive and enter the narrow door. May we shed the burdens of our past and the weight of self-reliance, embracing the simplicity and trust of spiritual childhood.