22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (C): Luke 14:1, 7-14
Psalm 131
Humble Trust in God
A song of ascents. Of David.
Lord, my heart is not proud;
nor are my eyes haughty.
I do not busy myself with great matters,
with things too sublime for me.
Rather, I have stilled my soul,
Like a weaned child to its mother,
weaned is my soul.
Israel, hope in the Lord,
now and forever.
Humility.
When we think of humility, we usually think of people who live in stealth mode: they do not call attention to themselves. We think of people who do the right thing because it is the right thing, and not because there is anything in it for them. We think of people who practice the “Little Way” of St. Therese of Lisieux: small things done with great love. We think of people who prefer to take the last place, the back pew. Those who are “the wind beneath the wings” of someone else. The unsung heroes.
In this Sunday’s Gospel passage, Jesus gives us an interesting and perhaps unexpected take on humility. He has been invited to a formal dinner given by one of the prominent people of the town. At such dinners, where one sits – and with whom – shows someone’s status in the community, and can increase it or decrease it. Jesus notices that most of the guests are jockeying for the most honorable seats they can get. He tells them, rather, that they should aim for the least honorable seats at the dinner. Let the host come, then, and invite them to a more honorable place at table. This, Jesus says, will win them the esteem of everyone: “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
What is Jesus saying, then? He says that He is speaking of humility. It looks like, at first glance, that He is just showing us a more subtle way to game the system: if you really want praise and esteem and honor, act like you don’t deserve it. Let the host, then, give you that honor. This looks like an appeal to pride at its worst, rather than to humility. But is this what Jesus means? How can being invited to a place of honor, or being led up front, be consistent with humility? Isn’t it the proud – those who want all the attention – who choose to be in front?
Sometimes it is. But not always. In fact, there are times when taking the place of honor, or accepting a call to “come up higher”, is itself an act of humility.
How can this be?
Picture this scenario. You’re at Mass one Sunday. Your pastor, in his homily, is talking about some new ministry he wants to begin in your parish. As he continues, it becomes clear to everyone that he is looking for someone to head this ministry, and that he is going to ask someone – right there, during his homily – to take this on.
How would people react? A quiet panic, perhaps? Whether they are outgoing or shy, most people at that point will be slouching in their pews, praying for the gift of invisibility. They may agree that this new ministry is a great idea. They may be ready to help whoever takes it on. But they don’t want to be the one who is asked.
Suppose the pastor looks at you anyway, and asks you, right there, to do this ministry. You are horrified. You don’t want to do this. What might you say?
“But, Father, I’m really busy right now.”
“Well, so is everyone else”, he might reply.
“I might not know what to do.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll help you.”
“But what if I mess up?”
Ah. Now we’re getting warm.
To be chosen for some ministry, or to be invited to a place of honor in any sense, is to find yourself placed at the center of the community’s attention. People now notice you more. Your gifts and talents will become more obvious to everyone. But… and this is a BIG but… so will your weaknesses. Your character flaws. Your imperfections. They will be right there for everyone to notice.
You see, laying low can be an act of pride, just as it can be an act of humility. I lay low because I don’t want people to see my flaws. I want to protect myself, my reputation. I don’t want to risk being exposed. I don’t want to be vulnerable. To be vulnerable and exposed reveals my heart, my love, my gifts, and my desire to serve the Lord. It also exposes my weaknesses, my flaws, my sinfulness.
That is why it can be an act of great humility to accept a call to serve the Lord in a public way in His Church. Sometimes, an invitation to “come up higher” is also an invitation to learn humility. In saying yes, you cannot help but be vulnerable in every way. You will discover your gifts as well as your flaws and sinful inclinations. So will everyone else around you. You cannot pretend to be better than you are, as everyone knows better. You will discover in a deeper way than ever your need for grace, for help, for love from God and from other people. You will not be able to do that ministry without also doing this.
This was the lesson that St. Bernard of Clairvaux learned in his life. St. Bernard, even as a young man, had a very appealing and compelling personality. When he felt the call to become a Cistercian monk, over a dozen young men who knew him followed him into the monastery. In the monastery, his gifts were quickly recognized, and he eventually became abbot. His writings and the fact that some of his monks were named bishops – and one became a Pope – made him perhaps the most influential person in Europe in the 12th century.
He wrote that he found humility to be the most challenging virtue for him to live. Yet, he discovered that his very prominence was leading him in the direction of humility. People could more easily see his flaws as well as his virtues. He could not hide his imperfections. It would be his very prominence, the invitation that the Lord gave him to “come up higher”, that became his path to learn humility. He would learn his flaws as well as his strengths, and he would learn to love the Lord more and to trust in Him more.
Even now, one of his biographers refers to St. Bernard as “the difficult saint”. We can look at certain things he did, certain decisions he made, and wonder if he really was a saint. Yet we can read his homilies on the Song of Songs, for example, and be caught up in the love that he so obviously had for the Lord, and the Lord for him. He became a saint by saying yes to the invitation to learn humility by “coming up higher”.
For some people, the way of humility is indeed the Little Way. Being unknown. Under the radar. Loving the Lord by doing ordinary things with extraordinary love. For other people, the way of humility is to take center stage. To risk being seen and exposed. To know that everyone sees our gifts and our flaws. Yet, humility consists here in saying “yes” to it all, to be that vulnerable, that exposed, and to trust that the Lord will show us humility through our faithful service to Him – even if it means being “in a higher place”, up front, or on center stage.
Do not assume, then, that those who are “up front” are less humble than others merely because they are up front. Do not assume that those in the back are more humble merely because they are in the background. The Lord sees into our hearts. Let us give one another the benefit of the doubt, and our prayerful support. Humility can be found even on center stage.