"Carpe diem. Seize the day!"

In the movie, "Dead Poets Society," Robin Williams made that phrase his motto and did all he could to help his students understand what it meant. Unlike Ben Franklin's preachy, "Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today," "Carpe diem!" reels with urgency. So too, Jesus, when he uttered his enigmatic, "Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many … will not be strong enough." Jesus said that in response to someone who asked, "Will only a few be saved?" 

What was behind that question? Did it come with a side dish of, "Am I in the in-crowd?" or was it like the question asked by the lawyer (Luke 18:18), "What must I do to be saved?" 

A grammar teacher would point out that the first question differs from the other two because it is in the passive voice — the asker does not assume that s/he can achieve salvation alone, it is something given, not earned. When we think about that, it seems that the poor soul asking this has a rather muddled way of thinking: If it's all up to God, why should anyone worry about how many? 

This leads us closer to the heart of the matter. Underneath, it seems that the questioner was trying to separate the sheep from the goats: "Who should I admire and hang out with, and who can I discount and avoid?" 

In response, Jesus told a story. (That was his method: Confuse the self-assured with a riddle that exposes them to themselves.) 

Jesus spun a tale about a householder who threw a huge party. There didn't seem to be any entrance requirement except to show up on time. The partygoers came from all over — not just old friends, but folks from the far reaches of the world — as in another story (Luke 14:15-24), there would have been rich and ragged, women and men, Jews and Gentiles, cardinals and choir girls, all without distinction. 

What disqualified the excluded ones? Sometimes a country song says it best. In this case, we might listen to Cole Swindell's "Love You Too Late." Along with the title, the best line for today's Gospel is, "I can't take back what I never said, but if I could, man I would." 

That identifies the problem of the folks who were locked out. The issue was not what they had done, but what they had not done. Like the Pharisee of Luke 7:36-47, they ate and drank in Jesus' company and heard his teaching. But eating and drinking do not automatically make for communion. Hearing does not imply heeding. Thus, when the master of the house says, "Go away," he censures them with the tragic words, "I do not know where you are from." 

The house was filled with people from north, south, east and west. Some must have been unfamiliar to the master, not to mention to one another. Yet, they showed up on time. Celebrating inside, they were doing what they had done before they got the invitation: open to something new they were enjoying the master's style of communion.

Jesus had made a story of Isaiah's description of God's plans for humanity. God's desire is to gather everybody from every part of the world: evangelists and pagans, hostages and the people who release them, refugees and ICE officials, all who long to enjoy life as a banquet prepared by God. 

Thus says the Lord, "Carpe diem!" 

Our question is, "What is ours to do today?" According to Isaiah, God knows our works and our thoughts. The "our" in that sentence is all-inclusive. God pays attention to each and every one of us — including those already come and gone and remains concerned for those yet to be born. 

For some, that's a fearsome thought. Those who are afraid probably go to church and hear Bible stories, but they've missed Jesus' message. For too many, religion is a way to save their skin — to escape eternal punishment, to figure out what they must do to be saved. They're missing the whole point of the Gospel. 

If being saved is an event describable only in the passive voice, if it flows from God's undying, immutable desire for absolutely everyone to thrive and live forever, we've no need to worry. Because of that, we can begin to see the world as God's banquet table and know we have a seat along with everybody else. 

This may sound presumptuous, but all Jesus is asking is that we share in the banquet God prepares for all of us together. Jesus offers communion. The narrow door represents action in this very moment. The strength we need is openness of heart and the desire to love as God loves. 

Carpe diem! The time is now!

When we use the phrase, "Jesus' passion," we automatically think of the cross. That's natural, yet the cross is only one dimension of the story. Listen to Jesus in today's Gospel: "I have come to set the Earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing! … Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the Earth? No … but rather division." 

That passionate talk sounds shocking coming from the mouth of the Prince of Peace, the one known for saying, "Come to me … I am meek and humble of heart … my yoke is easy, and my burden light" (Matthew 11:28-30). Perhaps all we can say is "two things can be true at once."  

What we hear from Jeremiah today could easily be applied to Jesus. Scripture scholar Sr. Dianne Bergant comments on Jeremiah's predicament saying, "Here is an instance in which the word of God spoken by the prophet and the policies of the nation are in deadly conflict. In such a situation, the one who speaks in God's name is likely to pay the price."

How many people in how many places in how many moments of history have faced similar situations? The Letter to the Hebrews exhorts us, "Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses … let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere." 

This reminds me of Byzantine Catholics in Romania who survived 50 years of communist oppression when the government declared their church extinct and threatened them with death-dealing prison sentences if they continued to practice their faith. Their seven bishops were arrested and told that only by converting to the Orthodox Church would they be safe. They all chose prison, where many of them, along with laity, priests and sisters died as martyrs. 

That's a cloud of witnesses! Like Jesus, with nothing but faith in "the joy that lay before them," they endured their enemies' attempts to break them. They knew who they were and refused to be anything else. They shared what Rabbi Abraham Heschel calls "the pathos of God." According to Heschel, the God of Israel is never impersonal or dispassionate. Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson adds that God is "dynamically engaged in every level of creation, passionately urging us to ethical greatness." That's Jesus' fire. 

People who heed God's urging toward ethical greatness share God's passion for the good of the world. Their reward? They suffer with God when people thwart movement toward that good. Like Jeremiah who protested that God had "seduced" him and made prophecy like a fire in his heart (Jeremiah 10:7-9), people who have been captivated by God share Jesus' passion for goodness and justice. They suffer from the fact that their message will cause division. They know Jesus' anguish as they wait for God's reign of love to rule on Earth.

Think of Greta Thunberg whose efforts have brought immense attention to the crisis of Earth. For that, she has been the object of derision, criticized as mentally unstable and the child of a deeply disturbed family. Russian President Vladimir Putin himself weighed in, calling her kind and sincere, but poorly informed. Her committed Muslim contemporary, Malala Yousafzai, began her advocacy for girls' education at age 11. The Taliban shot her for her efforts, only to increase her fame and the power of her message. 

For people like these young women, two things can be true at once: A message of justice and peace can also cause conflict on both the personal and social levels. 

Jesus came to set Earth on fire with God's love, knowing that he would be burned in the process. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews pleads with us to "persevere in running the race," to "keep our eyes fixed on Jesus." 

Faith in Jesus leaves no room for complacency in a world of injustice. The Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote that "love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing." Yet, he says that just when you think that in spite of your efforts, you are further from your goal than ever, "you will suddenly reach your goal and will clearly behold … the wonder-working power of the Lord who all the while has been loving you … and mysteriously guiding you." 

Today, in much of the world, the policies of nations are in deadly conflict with the word of God. When we hear Jesus say, "I have come to set the Earth on fire," he's asking if we are ready to burn with his zeal and face the peril it entails. We pray, "by your cross and resurrection, you have set us free." Are we free enough to share in Christ's passion?