A wedding banquet is one of the most joyful celebrations you can attend. But there’s always that slightly stressful moment when you walk into the reception and face the seating chart. Sometimes couples get very creative with these charts, but for the couple it can be stressful: Who isn’t talking to one another and needs to be separated? What do we do with the weird uncle—and who do we insulate him with? (I can say that because I’m the weird uncle now!) For guests too, it can be a little awkward: Who will I sit with? Will I know them? Will the conversation be easy, or a bit strained?
Seating arrangements are still a challenge today, and it seems they were also a challenge in Jesus’ time. In today’s Gospel, Jesus is at a meal in the home of a Pharisee, watching how people choose their places at the table. Out of this, he teaches two related lessons.
First, he shows us that true honor is not something we grasp for ourselves but something we receive. And ultimately, it is God who bestows honor on us. Then, in a second parable, Jesus teaches about hospitality. He tells us not to invite only those who can repay us, but rather to invite those who cannot. This is true hospitality.
Put together, these two teachings suggest something important: humility and hospitality go hand in hand.
Humility is often misunderstood. We sometimes think humility means pretending we are worthless or denying the good in us. But real humility is living in the truth: recognizing that we are created good by God, while not making ourselves the center of the universe. C.S. Lewis once put it perfectly: “Humility is not thinking less of ourselves, but thinking of ourselves less.”
And how do we do this? By turning outward in hospitality. True hospitality means noticing the people around us—family, friends, colleagues, neighbors, even strangers—and asking: Who is in need of care? Who needs their dignity affirmed or restored?
A beautiful image of this combination is Jesus at the Last Supper. When he washed the disciples’ feet, he took the place of a servant. That was humility. But it was also hospitality. He was making his guests feel at home and cared for.
How can we live this combination of humility and hospitality?
In our families: Don’t play favorites. Notice which family member or close friend is struggling and needs care and attention at this moment. It takes humility to set aside our own preoccupations, and it becomes hospitality when we offer love in action.
In our parish: When someone new joins us at Mass, do we notice them? Do we greet them, extend a smile, help them feel at home? Even coffee after Mass can be a chance to step out of our little circle and welcome someone new. That’s humility, thinking of ourselves less, and hospitality, drawing others in.
In our wider community: We can serve those in need, support charities, or even simply carry people in prayer. Every Mass, we pray the intercessions for the world. But each of us can also bring to the Eucharist our personal prayers for people in need. This is a humble and powerful act of hospitality: holding others in our hearts before God.
Today Jesus speaks of banquets where honor is given and hospitality is shown without expecting repayment. The Eucharist is the greatest banquet of all. At this table, Christ makes room for us, gives us dignity as sons and daughters of God, and offers us a gift we could never repay: Himself.
So as we come to the Lord’s table, may we be transformed. Let us recognize in true humility the dignity God gives us. And let us be changed by this banquet of love, so that we, in turn, can offer humble hospitality to those around us, especially those who cannot repay us.
