One Sunday morning, an elderly man entered a church just before the service was about to start. Although his clothes were spotless, they were very worn and tattered. In his hand, he carried a battered old hat and an equally worn Bible. The church he entered was located in a very affluent and exclusive part of the city. It was the largest and most beautiful church the old man had ever seen. The congregation members were all dressed in expensive clothes and accessories. As the old man took a seat, others moved away from him. No one greeted, spoke to, or welcomed him. They were all disturbed by his appearance and did not try to hide it. As the old man was leaving the church, the minister approached and asked him for a favour. “Before you come back in here again, have a chat with God and ask Him what He thinks would be appropriate attire for worship.” The old man assured him he would do so. The following Sunday, he returned for the services wearing the same ragged clothes. Once again, he was completely ignored and shunned. The minister approached him and said, “I thought I asked you to speak to God before you came back to our church.” “I did,” he replied. “If you spoke to God, what did He tell you the proper attire should be for worshipping here?” asked the minister. “Well, sir, God told me that He didn’t have a clue what I should wear. He said He’d never been in this church.”
We all enjoy exclusive offers because they make us feel special, better, luckier, or more superior to others, or all of the above. I suppose the exclusively singular exception to this rule is all-inclusive holiday packages. A few days ago, I was asked for advice about a seemingly attractive energy contract offer made to my friends. They were very excited about it because it was exclusive. For me, that word combined with the pressure to make a quick decision (the offer was valid for only 48 hours) and the contract’s length of 4 years were red flags, so I advised against it. We encounter similar tactics when we search for goods or services online – the irritating pop-up windows saying “48 people are looking at it” are designed to pressure us into a quick decision before the stock runs out or prices increase due to the supposedly high demand. We tend to be drawn to exclusivity because it arises from our deeply ingrained sense of tribalism. One of the most powerful – though not exclusive – aspects of self-defining a tribe is having a sense of superiority over other tribes. This applies to almost all forms of tribal identity, such as football supporters, political views, nationalism, racism, and so on. Religion, sadly, is no exception. “Lord, will those who are saved be few?” someone asked Jesus in today’s gospel. The question implied the questioner’s desire to belong to such a small, exclusive group of the chosen. A similar premise underpins every division within Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism and Buddhism, to name the largest ones… This list can safely include most, if not all, religions and religious movements.
Jesus’ response seemed to affirm and endorse such thinking: “Strive to enter through the narrow door. For many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able.” But then the parable took an unexpected turn when “the master of the house has risen and shut the door.” Those unable to enter pleaded to have the door opened based on their apparent association with the exclusive group: “We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.” It sounds like a very close description of what we are doing right now… The criterion of belonging as the sole ticket to enter the club was rejected: “I do not know where you come from. Depart from me, all you workers of evil!” To make matters worse, Jesus reinforced his message with a vision that must have deeply upset his Jewish audience, who were convinced of their utter superiority over pagans, as the Chosen People of God, tracing their ancestry to the great patriarchs and prophets of old: “there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth, when you see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God but you yourselves cast out. And people will come from east and west, and from north and south, and recline at table in the kingdom of God.” It was such a preposterous proposition that residents of Nazareth, Jesus’ hometown, nearly lynched him for saying something similar (see Luke 4:14-30).
In light of today’s gospel, we can ask whether our identity as Catholics places us at risk of falling into a similar dangerous delusion of feeling special, as Jesus’ Jewish audience did. The answer is “that depends.” The original purpose of designating the ancient Israelites as the “chosen people” was to serve as a light to the nations, demonstrating God’s truth, character, and way of life to the rest of the world. This choice was not for favouritism but for service, creating a model nation to invite all peoples to know and worship the one true God through their obedience to His covenants and laws. However, fallible human nature always tends to turn such praiseworthy election into a source of privilege, domination, power, and a contemptuous sense of superiority. The Greek word “katholikos” means “universal”; the “Katholikos” Church is universal: offered to everyone and open to all. St Paul described it movingly, addressing an early Christian community: “there is no longer Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, or free; but Christ is all and in all!” (Colossians 3:11) One of the main things I love and am proud of about our community here is how it reflects this universality of the Church. People from different countries, languages, cultures, traditions, and ethnicities come together as one to respond to the call of today’s psalm charitably: “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news.” We must strive to increase our chances that when a stranger asks God about this church community, He will approvingly answer: “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been there.”
