By Fr. Paul D. Scalia
Is our Lord avoiding the question? At first glance, it appears so. The man in today's Gospel (Luke 13:22-30) asks a simple yes/no question: "Will only a few people be saved?" Jesus doesn't answer, doesn't say yes or no. Perhaps to the man's disappointment, He doesn't give the stats on the population of Heaven relative to that of Hell. Instead, He gives a stern warning and tells an ominous parable.
Maybe our Lord is abiding by the ironclad rule of public relations: Don't answer the question that was asked, but the question that should have been asked. Instead of a direct response to the questioner's concern, He answers what should have concerned him - and us. Namely, complacency.
For there seems to be a kind of smugness about the questioner. He appears pretty sure about his own salvation even as he remains curious about others. Instead of asking about others, he should have asked about himself: What must I do to be saved? And it is this unasked question that our Lord answers: "Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough."
The Greek here for "strive" is literally "agonize" or "be in agony." Point being, Heaven is not easily entered. God's grace does not bear fruit in our lives unless we strive - agonize - to cooperate with it. We cannot sit back, relax, do nothing - and then expect to enter Heaven. You can't coast uphill.
So our Lord tells a parable about those who do not strive. They are the ones who know Him only in passing and become satisfied with that insufficient knowledge. When He returns, they will say, "We ate and drank in your company and you taught in our streets." As if mere proximity to Him is sufficient for salvation. As if simply being near Him, in the crowds that followed Him, would suffice. He was in their company, but they never took the time to know Him directly and personally.
Nor did they make an effort to be known by Him. Indeed, the parable's strong words of condemnation focus on just that fact: "I do not know where you are from. Depart from me, all you evildoers!" Or as He says more bluntly on another occasion, "I never knew you." (Matthew 7:23) Apparently, allowing ourselves to be known by Him is every bit as important as knowing Him. This shouldn't surprise us, for both knowing and being known are necessary in a relationship. The human heart desires both.
It's interesting to note how Saint Paul associates salvation with knowing God and being known by Him. Indeed, they are caught up with one another: "[I]f one loves God, one is known by him." (1 Corinthians 8:3) The Apostle looks to heaven, where "I shall know fully, as I am fully known." (1 Corinthians 13:12) He reminds the Galatians how they were once in darkness. But now it is different, "now that you have come to know God" - and then he corrects himself - "or rather to be known by God." (Galatians 4:9)
It's significant that this warning and this parable are directed not to those who don't follow Christ but to those who do - people like us, who follow Him. . .but perhaps not as intimately as we should. It's directed to us who might know about Christ because we've been raised that way, because we attend Mass and say our prayers and observe all that's asked of us. . .but who don't know Him. In the end, it's not knowledge about Christ that saves but knowing Christ Himself - and being known by Him. To be satisfied with anything less is dangerous.
All of this can be seen as the difference between a personage and a person. A personage - someone of notoriety and fame - is apart from us. We know about him, perhaps even a great deal. He might even inspire us. We might even shape our lives according to his example. But we don't have a relationship with a personage. He remains an historical or cultural figure. We can put him on a shelf where he we can admire him from afar and without fear that he will intrude.
A person, on the other hand, is more than reputation and ...
