Homilies & Thoughts

Jesus can feel like the guest who spoils a party—the one who stands in the doorway, notices every flaw, and starts rearranging the seating chart. Many Pharisees saw him that way: not fun, not flattering. But look closer. He is not ruining the celebration; he is teaching us how to finally enjoy it.

Hosting can be exhausting. The menu, the timing, the conversations that must be managed so certain people do not collide. Beneath the lists and the candles burns a deeper pressure: the need to impress. We carry it into our homes, our jobs, our social feeds. Show that life is curated, successful, enviable. Spend more. Prove you belong at the head of the table.

Pride and humility stand in sharp opposition. Pride has long been considered the root of all sin, while humility is the cornerstone of holiness. For those who walk in the footsteps of St. Francis of Assisi, humility is not an optional virtue but the very ground on which the Franciscan life is built. Francis himself called his followers the fratres minores, the “lesser brothers,” and referred to himself as “the least of the brothers,” echoing Christ’s own humility in the Incarnation. To understand this tension, we must first consider how pride manifests in human life, then reflect on the Franciscan witness of humility, and finally turn to the cultivation of humility in daily practice.

The question sounds religious enough: How many will be saved? Yet it is a poor guide for a disciple. Whether the number is many or few, nothing essential changes—love does not shrink or expand because of a statistic. Counting souls does not convert a single heart. It distracts us from the work right in front of us.

Jesus refuses the headcount and gives us a marching order: “Strive to enter through the narrow gate.” Not a spreadsheet, a path. He redirects curiosity into courage. The image is tight, demanding, almost like a trail that steepens at the end. And the warning is clear: many will try, and strength will fail. So what now?