LETTER: The Parable of the Blocked Gate

There once was a great city with two gates. The largest gate, on the south side, welcomed merchants, scholars, travelers, local farmers, and the city’s grand army. A long and narrow road leading into the small, northern gate received the sick, the crippled, and the vagabonds.

The ruler and his counselors feared the northern gate. “It brings shame to our name,” they said. Some elite voices said: “And diseases and filth.” The ruler had it blocked with stone; the rampart guards told those who approached that the law required them to go somewhere else.

One day, a stranger came to the small gate. Dusty from the road, sandals worn, face tired, he saw the gate blocked up. The guards turned him away. He went to the open gate. 

He stood before the ruler and his counselors and said: “You have opened your one gate wide to those who bring wealth, wisdom, and food, but you closed the small gate to Me.”

The ruler and his counselors were puzzled. “You are no merchant. No scholar. No local farmer. You are no soldier. What do you have to offer us?”

The stranger replied: “I was the hungry boy at the small gate. I was the sick woman turned away. I was the man asking for a place to bathe. You saw no value in Me. I became invisible. But the kingdom of heaven sees Me clearly — and it is built for such as these.”

And many in the great hall fell silent, for they had approved of the blocked gate but never once inquired who had been turned away.

Duane Pitts

Moses Lake