“Whatever is behind this door,” she seemed to brace herself as she inserted the key into the lock, “Don’t let anything surprise you.”
Those were ominous words from my grandmother as we cautiously entered her farmhouse in the isolated hills of Eastern Kentucky. To this day, I have never known what potential curveballs awaited us beyond that turned knob. A messy kitchen? A flooded basement? Break-ins were frequent in the rural area, did she think someone was in there? I prepared my 7-year-old self as I had seen her do: a deep breath and tiny, tightened fists. Behind me, the steep hill and the giant pines bent in anxious curiosity.
If someone was reading my story, my Appalachian roots make my adult conversion to the Catholic Faith somewhat of a surprise. For almost a decade, I’ve been learning about the Church’s rich traditions. For instance, 2025 is the “Year of Jubilee.” The practice of a regular jubilee is deeply biblical. In Leviticus 25, God commanded the Israelites to observe a sacred year every 50 years, when debts were forgiven, land was returned, and captives were set free. As the Catholic Church enters the Jubilee Year under the theme Pilgrims of Hope, we are invited to reflect deeply on this essential virtue.
Every Jubilee Year in the Church begins with a profound symbol: the opening of the Holy Door in St. Peter’s Basilica. This great bronze door, normally sealed shut, is opened by the pope as a sign of God’s mercy poured upon the world.
I’m sure I’m the only hillbilly who watched as Pope Francis approached the ceremonial doors and thought, “Don’t let anything surprise ya, Papa.” Then again, like those coal-streaked hills behind me those thirty-some years ago, I feel the collective curiosity of the world waiting, wondering what the future holds.
Mentions of doors abound in scripture. God shut the door of Noah’s ark, a sign of protection and judgment. Before the final plague in Egypt, God commanded the Israelite’s to mark their doorposts with the blood of a lamb so the Angel of Death would pass over them. Jesus told the Parable of the Ten Virgins waiting for the bridegroom, and how the door was shut before the foolish and unprepared five could make it to the wedding feast. Then there’s the most important door, Jesus.
In his Good Shepherd discourse, Christ declares, “I am the door. If anyone enters through me, he will be saved,” (John 10:9).
And there’s our Hope. Our faith and love must move us, our hearts, through the Door of Christ. Jesus did not come for those who had everything figured out—He came for the lost, the burdened, and the broken. He’s the door to eternal peace and joy, but who has the key?
Remember in the Gospel of St. Matthew when Christ gave Peter the keys to the kingdom. It’s a foundational passage for Catholic teachings on the papacy (making Peter the first pope) and apostolic tradition (the passing down of Jesus’ teachings through the apostles and their successors, guided by the Holy Spirit).
Jesus is the Door to Life Abundant, held open wide with an invitation for everyone. Now, as I approach the Door, I’m breathing prayers of thanks, and my hands are unclenched and open, ready to receive His grace.
Here I am, continually surprised by Hope.
