22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time (C)

 Sir 3:17-18, 20, 28-29; Heb 12:18-19, 22-24; Lk 14:1, 7-14

In the early 1900s, there was a man named Booker T. Washington, born into slavery and rising to become one of the most influential African American leaders of his time. Despite his extraordinary achievements, Washington was known for his profound humility. On one occasion, when invited to a prestigious dinner alongside wealthy and powerful individuals, he noticed how everyone was eager to sit closest to the host, seeking the best seats and the greatest honors. Washington, however, quietly chose a modest place at the back of the room, not demanding attention or special treatment.

As the evening unfolded, the host himself noticed Washington’s humble demeanor and invited him to join the main table, elevating him in front of the guests. Washington’s humility, patience, and dignity earned him genuine respect—not because he sought it, but because he embodied a spirit of service and humility that transcended social status.

This example echoes the words of Jesus in today’s gospel. He noticed how guests at a table jockeyed for places of honor and gave a parable that turned the social order upside down. Jesus advised taking the lowest place, not the highest, because true

honor is given to the humble, not the proud. He warned that those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.

This teaching challenges us deeply. From the earliest times, humanity has wrestled with pride and humility. The Old Testament is full of stories warning against pride and elevating the humble. The prophet Micah, speaking for God, said, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). Humility before God and others is a central call of the Hebrew Scriptures.

King Solomon, renowned for his wisdom, famously advised, “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18). Even the mighty king David, after his sin with Bathsheba, humbled himself before God, teaching us that true greatness lies in recognizing our limitations and our need for God’s mercy.

Jesus’ words here also echo the Jubilee spirit of the Old Testament, where the vulnerable—the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind—were to be cared for and honored. The prophets spoke often of God’s concern for the marginalized, declaring that justice for the poor and the humble was the true measure of faithfulness (see Isaiah 61:1-3, where the spirit of the Lord anoints the one who proclaims good news to the poor).

We see this lived out vividly in the lives of the saints. St. Vincent de Paul dedicated his life to serving the poor and abandoned. Rather than seeking comfort or prestige, he founded congregations to care for the sick, orphaned, and marginalized. He understood that true Christian hospitality means opening one’s heart and home to those who cannot repay, trusting in God’s promise of reward.

St. Elizabeth of Hungary, born into royalty, chose a life of simplicity and service. She gave away her wealth to care for the poor and sick, often personally nursing them. Her humility was a radical contrast to her noble status and showed that genuine honor comes from serving the least among us.

And St. Damien of Molokai, who voluntarily lived among lepers on the Hawaiian island of Molokai, showed extraordinary humility and courage. He accepted the lowest place in society, living with and caring for those whom others shunned, embodying the love and hospitality Jesus calls us to.

History provides us with rulers who understood this divine wisdom. Abraham Lincoln, a man of humble beginnings, rose to the highest office in the United States but remained a man deeply aware of his responsibilities to the marginalized—those enslaved and the war-torn country’s destitute. Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address was a plea to honor those who died by committing to a nation where “government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” His leadership was marked by a humility that sought to serve rather than to dominate.

In a different context, Nelson Mandela spent decades imprisoned, humbling himself before the great injustice of apartheid. Yet, upon his release, he chose reconciliation over revenge, inviting his former enemies to join him at the table of a new South Africa. Mandela’s humility and willingness to serve others’ dignity made him a global icon of peace and justice.

But we do not have to be saints or world leaders to live this teaching. In every community, ordinary people live out this humble invitation. A teacher who stays late to help struggling students without expecting praise, a nurse who quietly cares for patients in the night, a neighbor who invites the lonely and forgotten to share a meal—these are the real heroes of Jesus’ parable. They take the lowest place, expecting no glory, but their reward comes from God.

In our modern world, where social media often encourages self-promotion and where success is measured by status and wealth, Jesus’ words challenge us profoundly. We are invited to resist the temptation to seek the “best seats” — in conversation, in work, in our families. Instead, we are called to practice radical humility, to invite and serve those who cannot repay us—those overlooked, rejected, or forgotten.

This invitation to humility also brings us to the heart of Christian hospitality. The host in Jesus’ parable warns against inviting only those who can repay. True Christian hospitality opens doors to the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind—not for their benefit only but for our own transformation. When we invite the marginalized into our homes and hearts, we encounter Christ himself. This is not easy. It challenges our comfort zones, our prejudices, and our desire for control.

In the complex reality of today—where divisions abound along lines of race, class, religion, and politics—this teaching offers a pathway toward reconciliation and peace. By embracing humility and reaching out to the “least” among us, we dismantle barriers and build community. It is a radical countercultural stance that challenges the forces of exclusion, pride, and selfishness.

We might ask: How do we practice this humility in daily life? It begins in small acts—listening more than speaking, putting others’ needs before our own, refusing to compete for status or recognition. It calls us to reconsider who we invite into our lives, our friendships, and our conversations. 

Jesus promises that those who humble themselves will be exalted. This promise is not just about future glory but about experiencing a profound peace and joy here and now. Humility frees us from the exhausting race for power and prestige. It opens us to God’s grace and the presence of Christ in those we serve.

In closing, let us remember that the feast Jesus speaks of is not only a physical banquet but the eternal feast of God’s kingdom. Here on earth, in our communities and families, we practice this kingdom by choosing the lowest place, by inviting those who cannot repay, and by embracing humility as our path to true honor.

May we take to heart this timeless wisdom and live it boldly in our complex, modern world, transforming not only our lives but the lives of those around us, so that the banquet of God’s love may be shared by all.

Satish