Jesus teaching while dining with others

I want to begin this homily with a story. On this past August 27, a Wednesday, the school children at Church of the Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis, Minnesota were gathered in the parish church that accompanies and sponsors the school to attend the Mass that would open the school year. Mass began at 8:15am and, shortly after 8:30, a young man, I won’t say his name, began shooting multiple rounds into the church from outside. He shot through the stain-glassed windows. Ultimately, he killed two children, eight-year-old Fletcher Merkel and ten-year-old Harper Moyski – I will say their names. He also injured 15 other children and three senior citizens.

One of the children who was injured on that horrible day was a ten-year-old boy named Victor. His last name has not been reported, but his friend, Weston Helsne, told his story. Weston, who is also ten, told reporters that when the shooting began, “It was like shots fired, and then we kind of, like, got under the pew. They shot through the stained-glass windows, I think, and it was really scary.” Then Weston told the reporters a remarkable thing. He said, “My friend, Victor, like, saved me though because he laid on top of me. But he got hit in the back.” Weston later explained, after noting that Victor was sent to the hospital, “I was super scared for him, but I think now he’s okay.”

Our Lord told His disciples, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friend.” Victor, being a student at a Catholic school, likely heard those words of Jesus over the course of his studies at Annunciation. He heard those words and, when it mattered, he lived them. Thanks be to God Victor is going to survive his wounds. And glory be to God, and to little Victor, that one so young should be inspired to live out so concretely the words of our Lord and literally place his own life in danger, and even to suffer being shot himself, to save the life of his friend. “Victor saved me.” That, I think, will be my personal memorial of August 27, 2025: “Victor saved me.”

Our first reading from Sirach and our Gospel today obviously teach lessons in humility. The word “humility” is rooted in the Latin, humus, meaning “ground.” So, to be humble is to be one who is close to the ground. Now, we can take this in a couple of ways. We can regard ourselves as close to the ground, perhaps of low worth because we are dirty. Worms and all sorts of bugs live in the ground. It’s not a very happy image with which to be associated. Some people do hold that humility means to think very low of oneself, to regard oneself as unworthy of the graciousness extended to those who are higher up in the social strata. The Jewish world at the time of Jesus was an honor/shame-based culture. In other words, one strived for honor by doing great deeds, say like inviting all the great men of the community to a dinner at your residence. At the same time, one attempted to avoid shame, such as arriving at a dinner, assuming a high place for oneself, and being asked by the host to move to a lower place when a man of higher distinction arrives. Such a social gaffe would have mortified the man asked to move lower, and could possibly have destroyed his reputation. We all know this and, perhaps, have even seen it played out. We have our dinners where there are places at the table set aside for those of greater honor, often on a dais. Woe to any lowly person who attempts to sit on the dais. Usually, when there is a dais, it’s pretty clear who sits there and who doesn’t.

Another way to look at “humility” coming from the Latin word for “ground” is to think of one who is humble as being grounded in a proper sense of himself or herself. One who doesn’t think of himself or herself as too high-minded (recall the wisdom of Sirach: “What is too sublime for you, seek not, into things beyond your strength search not”), yet also having a well-grounded understanding of one’s gifts. When I first met with Fr. Doug Owens at All Saints to discuss my role as a deacon there, I told him there were two things I was willing to say that I do well, write and teach. So, don’t put me in charge of the fund-raising committee, but perhaps I could teach a class on the Bible. To be humble is to know your gifts, and also to be willing to offer your gifts for the support of the Church.

In the case of the dinner, Jesus offers advise that I think is common sense to most of us: don’t assume you belong on the dais. Rather, find a seat for yourself at one of the tables. It just might be that you will be called up to sit on the dais, and what an enviable experience that would be!

At the dinner, Jesus watched as the people jockeyed for places closer to the host, because these are the places of honor. He uses this in his parable: “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not recline at table in the place of honor. A more distinguished guest than you may have been invited by him, and the host who invited both of you may approach you and say, ‘Give your place to this man,’ and then you would proceed with embarrassment to take the lowest place. Rather, when you are invited, go and take the lowest place so that when the host comes to you he may say, ‘My friend, move up to a higher position.’ Then you will enjoy the esteem of your companions at the table. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but everyone who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Clearly Jesus, in His parable, isn’t just talking about table etiquette. He’s talking about our own attitudes in life. How do we think of ourselves? Do we think of ourselves as worthy of great respect, great honor, great recognition from others, and even from God? Do we imagine that, if we do this, and this, and this, then we’ll have it over God, and He’ll be obliged to let me into the kingdom? That ain’t how it works! Better to think of ourselves as having our gifts and using them for God’s glory, acting out of the pure love of God, regardless of what others think of us, and uncaring about receiving the praise of people or the honors this world awards?

Then, what of the good things we do? Aren’t they meritorious? Don’t the Scriptures affirm that we will be judged by what we’ve done? After all, the Book of Revelation says: “I saw the dead, the great and the lowly, standing before  the throne, and scrolls were opened. Then another scroll was opened, the book of life. The dead were judged according to their deeds, by what was written in the scrolls” (Rev 20:12)? Don’t the Scriptures say that God “will repay everyone according to his works” (Rm 8:6) as St. Paul writes in his letter to the Romans? Yes! But those works must be performed for the pure love of God, and not in any hope that they will somehow earn our way into the kingdom. God will reward us for those works, but they do not earn our way into the kingdom.

Clearly Jesus’ parable in not just about our attitudes in this temporal world, but about how we approach God. Do we expect to please God and earn our way into the kingdom by showing Him all the wonderful things we’ve done over our life? Or do we acknowledge the sovereignty of God, beg His mercy, knowing that our entry into the kingdom of heaven is a matter of God’s love and grace, and not anything we think we’ve earned or think we deserve?

Better to sit at the lowest place and be raised to the higher place, than to assume we merit sitting in the place of honor, only to be brought low. Better to recognize the sovereignty of God and of who we are before Him, than to assume we merit the kingdom, only to be surprised to learn otherwise.

Be Christ for all. Bring Christ to all. See Christ in all.