Homilies
A Place At The Table
Holy Spirit take my words and speak to each of us according to our needs.
The Gospel reading today gives us one of those scenes where Jesus is watching people carefully. He notices how guests at a banquet choose the best seats for themselves, hoping to be seen, hoping to be noticed, hoping perhaps to rise a little higher in the pecking order. And then Jesus astounds them by saying, “When you are invited, do not sit in the place of honour.” Instead, sit lower down and if you are worthy, you will be invited higher up the table..
Now, at first glance, it might sound like Jesus is giving us a piece of tactical advice—a strategy. Sit low so that you can then be invited up higher. Rather than having the embarrassment of someone more important arriving and you being asked to make way for them. It appears to be a bit of a clever trick for social success but surely Jesus wouldn’t condone or even suggest this?. To give it a name, we might call this tactical humility. It looks humble, but it’s actually still about playing the game.
The trouble is, when humility becomes a strategy, it stops being humility at all. It becomes a way of getting noticed, of securing something for ourselves. And that most definitely, isn’t what Jesus was talking about.
We see this idea, described differently, in other passages of Scripture too. Remember when Jesus tells us not to let our left hand know what our right hand is doing? Or when he says, “When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father in secret”? That’s real humility. That’s authenticity. Not playing a game for the sake of appearances, but living in such a way that our actions speak of love without needing applause.
Because here’s the thing: playing the game is transactional. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. I’ll do something for you, but only if you can do something for me in return. People on both sides remain unchanged. It keeps the peace, it is stable yes, but it’s dull, it’s safe, and more to the point, it’s not genuine.
Jesus calls us to something more. He says, “When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind. Invite those who cannot repay you.” Why? Because that is authentic humility. That’s generosity without calculation. That’s a gift without expectation.
And when we step into that kind of generosity, something surprising happens. It becomes transformational. Not only does the person receiving the gift or the kindness experience something new, but we ourselves are changed as well. We discover what it means to truly receive, to truly give, to be vulnerable, and to allow God’s love to flow through us.
Transformational interactions, however do carry risk. There’s an imbalance built in. We may give more than we feel comfortable with. We may not see an immediate reward. But when we dare to give ourselves genuinely to others, that’s when deep relationships are formed, when lives are touched, and when the kingdom of God draws near.
Perhaps that’s why movements like Random Acts of Kindness have taken off so well. Because when someone offers a kindness with no expectation of repayment, something sparks in us. Something about it feels right, deeply human, and deeply godly.
Look at the life of Jesus as an example. The people he healed, the people he forgave, the people he ate with—none of them could ever repay him. And that was exactly the point. He didn’t come to gather favours. He came to give his life as a gift for all. A gift that none of us could ever repay.
And maybe that’s a word we need to hear today. Because in our world, especially in our world of media and social platforms, there’s a strong pull toward being seen doing good, looking generous, looking impressive. We can get caught up in appearances, in performance, in being noticed.
But Jesus points us a different way. What would it look like if we gave of ourselves; not for the cameras, not for the applause, not for what we might get back, but simply in the name of Jesus? What would it look like if we helped someone who could never repay us? Or gave quietly, anonymously, as an act of love for God and neighbour?
That kind of giving is risky. There are always people who will try to take advantage of someone else’s generosity but should that stop us? It’s not always neat or balanced. But it is real. It is deep. And it is where God’s kingdom breaks into our world.
And here’s where grace comes in. As Paul writes to the Ephesians, “By grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” We do not need to gather up a full basket of good deeds before God will love us. His love isn’t measured out on a balance sheet, and his kingdom isn’t earned through effort.
But, when we know that we are already loved by God, completely and unconditionally, then our response is to want to do good. Not to earn anything. Not to look good. But to share the love that has been given to us. Our acts of kindness and generosity flow out of gratitude, not out of fear.
And maybe that’s the heart of this parable. Jesus isn’t teaching us how to manoeuvre for a better seat. He’s teaching us how to live as people who know we already have a place at God’s table. We don’t need to impress him to be invited. We’re already loved. Already welcomed. Already held by grace.
The question is: what will we do with that love? Will we keep playing the transactional game? Or will we step into the risky, messy, but beautiful work of giving ourselves to others without expectation, just as Jesus did? Perhaps this week, we might each look for just one opportunity to give in a way that cannot be repaid. To bless someone without expectation. To take a step beyond transactional relationships into transformational encounters. And to demonstrate, as I said last week, that we authentic in our being, just the same on the inside as we are on the outside.
Because when we do this, we follow the way that Jesus showed us as the one who gave himself completely, who held nothing back, and who invites us to his table, not because of what we can give him in return, but because of his endless love for us all. Amen.