Wide and Narrow Gates (Matthew 7:13-14)
[A Guest Card Talk by Ariane Wolfe*]

This Canon Card comes directly from Matthew 7:13-14:

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.

Upon a first or even second reading, this seems to contain an eschatological perspective: live a “good” life on the harder, narrow path of righteousness, and you’ll go to Heaven; lead a “bad” life on the easier, wide path of doing-whatever-seems-fun-at-the-time, and you’ll go to Hell. Many preachers will take this passage as an opportunity to expound on exactly that, ranting about the necessity to stay away from the “sin” of various indulgences in order to avoid eternal damnation. I don’t subscribe to a literal heaven-and-hell theology, and I think that looking at this passage through that lens is myopic. It also misses the point.

When I read this card I hear a guideline and see a lens through which to evaluate what I’m doing with my life, in a broad, whole picture view, or within a given, specific situation. It helps me make better decisions, informed by my choice to adhere to Jesus’ teachings to the best of my ability. I don’t do this out of a fear of Hell or destruction, but out of love for life – others’ as well as my own.

Following the first tumultuous 100 days of the new presidency, it feels to many of us over here on the progressive “Christian Left” like we’ve been a bit pummeled and bruised, watching the new leaders of our country push and shove their way through the widest possible gate, following an easy road paved with plush titles and financial gain, while many concerned citizens stand on either side of the entry to a narrow gate holding it open, waving arms vigorously in the air and calling out, “wait, look, it’s over HERE!” Frankly, it’s been exhausting.

The thing is, from my vantage point in the glass bubble that is life in the San Francisco Bay Area, that smaller gate looked rather wide to me and I thought for sure it would become the road more travelled. Perhaps in my naiveté, I’d thought it already was. But there goes the blustering Noisy-Gong-and-Clanging-Cymbal-of-State (to borrow from 1 Corinthians if I might) that is our current government, parading through wide gates and onto smooth roads with floats, balloons and fanfare; and I’m left asking myself, “how could that be?,” “when did this happen?,” and – more importantly – “what do we do now?” How did things get this out of hand and dangerous? For, make no mistake, people are suffering, and as “Good Christians” we have an obligation to do something.

“The Baptismal Covenant” used by the Episcopal Church states that all Christians are called to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving my neighbor as myself… to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.” I listen to NPR in the mornings, watch the nightly news and see posts all over the ‘net, each day bringing a new “evil done on our behalf” as one form of the corporate Confession of Sin phrases it (Enriching Our Worship), and it makes me think we have so very far to go yet.

But we can’t give up.

There is a narrow gate built of Love and Justice, Compassion and Grace. It is a gate that Jesus bid us to seek, leading to a life we can live into here and now, “on earth as it is in heaven.” Here and now, not in some far off utopia-after-death.

I imagine the gate to the garden at Gethsemane must have been something like this: out of the way, isolated, and hard to find if you don’t know where to look. But even in the midst of great upheaval one may find peace there. Despite the anguish Jesus must have felt at the betrayal of his followers, the knowledge of the death he knew was coming, and the realization that at the last, he was alone, Christ sought this garden as a quiet, nurturing place to gather his thoughts and to offer even his fears and doubts to God.

We are told to do this as well, to enter through the narrow gate into a quiet place; to meditate and pray there listening for that “still, small voice” that is our guide. But we were also bid to act, from love and through compassion.

God, ever-present and always speaking to us, urges us to actively love our neighbors as ourselves: our Muslim neighbors, our Syrian neighbors, our Black neighbors, our Mexican neighbors, our undocumented neighbors; our lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered, and queer neighbors; our homeless neighbors, our incarcerated neighbors; and yes, our White neighbors, our angry neighbors and our racist neighbors, too. The list goes on ad infinitum, because all people on this beautiful and fragile earth are “our neighbors,” and we have been bidden to love them as we love ourselves.

Maybe the abundant, unconditional, universally-reaching Christ-like love called agape can win where hatred, partisanship, contention and fear have failed.

Maybe it needs to take the form of petitions and protests, and standing up for those we see being bullied.

Maybe we can express it through the safely indirect practice of writing letters to congress, or a ministry of simple presence such as bringing leftovers or blankets to a homeless encampment.

Maybe it calls for a more forceful response, such as standing guard while someone prays, stepping in to protect someone when you witness violence, sitting up with someone who is frightened or anxious or has suffered a loss.

Maybe it needs to be in our deepest, most heartfelt prayers to the One in whom we “live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28) - whatever flavor, color or texture that One may be.

We live in troubled times, equal to anything the Bible has to offer. The cruelties we read of in Scripture surround us today: willful injustice, racially-based hatred, socioeconomic inequality, greed, lust for power, and the corruption that seizing it brings; posturing, bullying, fighting; lying, cheating, stealing, murder. But with eyes that have been opened we can walk either path, choose either gate we will.

Let’s bring this deep compassion, and all that we’re able to do for each other, to the narrow gate. Let’s put it up as a signpost and a guide, a welcome and an offer to walk beside, stand with and succor all people.

And let’s mean it.

* Ariane Wolfe is a congregant and lay minister at All Souls Episcopal Parish in Berkeley, CA. She holds a Certificate of Theological Studies from Church Divinity School of the Pacific, an MSBA from Trinity College and University, and is an aspirant to the Order of Deacons in the Episcopal Diocese of California. Her blog can be found at http://shinythoughtsblog.blogspot.com/