22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time

To The Epiphany Parish Community 

Humilitas est verus ordo amoris — Humility Orders Love Rightly, 
Lifting the Soul from Self-interest to Divine Communion 
(22 Week in Ordinary Time, Luke 14:1,7-14, 31 August 2025) 

In the scene from today’s Gospel passage, Jesus, in the home of one of the chief Pharisees, observes that the guests at lunch rush to choose the first place. It is a scene that we have seen so often: seeking the best place even with our elbows. Observing this scene, Jesus shares two short parables, and with them two instructions: one concerning the place, and the other concerning the reward. The first analogy is set at a wedding banquet. Jesus says: When you are invited by anyone to a marriage feast, do not sit down in a place of honor, lest a more eminent man than you be invited by him; and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give place to this man’, and then you will begin with shame to take the lowest place (Luke 14:8-9). With this recommendation, Jesus does not intend to give rules of social behavior, but rather a lesson on the value of humility. History teaches that pride, careerism, vanity and ostentation are the causes of many evils. And Jesus helps us to understand the necessity of choosing the last place, that is, of seeking to be small and hidden: humility. When we place ourselves before God in this dimension of humility, God exalts us, he stoops down to us so as to lift us up to himself: For every one who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted (Luke 14:11). (Pope Francis, Angelus, 2016) 

Beloved Brothers and Sisters in Christ Jesus, At a charity dinner, a wealthy businessman sat proudly at the head table, boasting about his donations. Meanwhile, a quiet elderly woman, unknown to many, had given her entire savings to support orphans. When the organizers revealed her sacrifice, the applause and honor shifted to her—showing that God often exalts those the world overlooks. 

At a parish potluck, a newcomer hesitated at the entrance, unsure where to sit. A family waved them over, giving up their own seats to make space. That simple act turned a stranger into a friend—living proof that God’s banquet is fullest when the humble make room for others. 

St. Ambrose once entered a feast where he was offered the highest seat of honor. Instead, he quietly chose the lowest place. When asked why, he said: I prefer Christ to lift me up, than pride to cast me down. His gesture embodied Luke 14’s wisdom. When the mother of James and John asked Jesus to give her sons the best seats in His Kingdom (Mathew 20:20–23), Christ reminded her: Whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant. Just like in today’s Gospel, true honor is not seized, but given by the Father. As Augustine reminds us: The house of God has no higher roof than humility’—therefore Christ teaches us to descend, that we may ascend with Him. 

In today’s Gospel, Jesus sits at the table of a Pharisee and observes a scene that is as old as humanity itself: people competing for the first place. It is the ancient drama of pride, which is nothing but the will to establish ourselves by pushing others aside. The table, which is meant to be a place of communion, becomes a battlefield for recognition. Jesus responds with a parable that on the surface seems like advice on etiquette, but in reality, strikes at the deepest level of the human condition. He tells us that the struggle for the highest place is not only futile but self-defeating. 

Pride always collapses beneath its own weight, because it builds its worth on appearances and comparisons. The more we grasp for honor, the more fragile our dignity becomes—dependent on what others say and on the shifting winds of recognition. Pride is a distortion of truth. The truth of our being is that we are contingent creatures, whose existence is pure gift. To live as if our worth depended on status is to deny this truth and to live in illusion. Humility, on the other hand, is not self-deprecation, nor is it weakness. It is the sober recognition of what we are: beings created from dust yet touched by the breath of God. Humility is the alignment of our lives with reality—it is truth lived in love. 

Jesus’ instruction reveals something greater: the very movement of God’s own life. He who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. This is not only a moral principle but a revelation of the divine paradox. God Himself, in Christ, chose the last place—taking the form of a servant, obedient unto death, even death on a cross. And in this descent, God revealed the true measure of greatness: love that stoops down to lift the other up. Exaltation is not the reward of ambition but the fruit of surrender. Thus, the wedding banquet of which Jesus speaks is an image of the Kingdom. In God’s banquet hall, the seats are not assigned according to prestige but according to love. The last place is not a place of shame but the very place of Christ Himself, who waits there to welcome us. 

For us, then, the invitation is clear: do not be seduced by the restless striving for recognition, but embrace the hidden power of humility. In our families, parishes, and communities, the temptation is always to assert our-selves, to be noticed, to be first. But Christ whispers: go lower, take the last place, serve quietly, forgive pa-tiently. For in that hiddenness, God Himself bends down to raise you up. 

The philosopher Pascal once wrote: It is only through humility that man is made great. The Gospel today con-firms this with divine authority: greatness is not something we seize; it is something God bestows when we lower ourselves in love. 

The Wedding Banquet: A Portrait 

The image of the wedding banquet runs like a golden thread throughout Scripture. A banquet is not mere eating, but a symbol of communion. To share a meal is to transcend isolation, to enter into fellowship. A wed-ding banquet heightens this symbolism: it marks the union of two persons in love, but also gathers a commu-nity around their joy. It becomes a sign of fullness, celebration, and the overcoming of loneliness—the deepest human yearning. 

In the Gospel, Jesus often uses the wedding banquet as a parable for the Kingdom of God (Mathew 22; Luke 14). This banquet represents the final destiny of humanity: eternal communion with God, the Bridegroom, and with one another, the Bride, the Church. The Eucharist itself is the foretaste of this eschatological feast, where Christ offers His very self as the wedding gift that seals the covenant. 

But the Gospel also introduces a paradox. At the human level, banquets tend to mirror our hierarchies: who is at the head of the table, who is invited, who is excluded. Jesus subverts this. In Luke 14: He observes guests elbowing for the highest places, and He responds by turning the logic of the banquet upside down: When you are invited, go and sit in the lowest place. The true wedding banquet of God is not ruled by ambition, pride, or exclusion, but by humility, service, and gratuitous love. 

This inversion reveals that the highest human good is not achieved through self-assertion but through keno-sis—self-emptying. The banquet of God is entered not by grasping but by receiving. To take the lowest place is not humiliation but liberation: one no longer needs to fight for worth, because worth is already given by the Host. 

The wedding banquet is also Christological. Christ Himself is both the Bridegroom and the humble Guest. He takes the last place—born in a manger, crucified outside the city—so that we may be brought into the place of honor at the Father’s table. His descent becomes our ascent; His humility becomes our exaltation. 

Dear Epiphany, ultimately, the wedding banquet is a vision of the Kingdom where the logic of grace replaces the logic of power. Those who had no seat at the world’s tables—the poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame—are summoned to sit closest to the Bridegroom (Luke 14:21). Here the eschatological reversal is complete: the margins become the center, and the last place is revealed as the privileged place of God’s presence: Thus, in the Gospel understanding, the wedding banquet is: humans are made for communion, not isolation. true greatness lies in humility, not pride. the Kingdom is a feast of gratuitous love, where Christ the Bridegroom unites Himself eternally with His Bride, the Church. 

Let us, dear Epiphany, then pray for the grace to desire the last place—not because we are worthless, but because Christ has already chosen it and waits for us there. Whoever humbles himself with Him will be exalted with Him, lifted into the eternal banquet of joy. 

Fraternally, 
Fr. John Peter Lazaar SAC, Pastor