Gospel according to Saint Luke 14:1,7-14:

On a Sabbath Jesus went to dine at the home of one of the leading Pharisees, and the people there were observing him carefully.
He told a parable to those who had been invited, noticing how they were choosing the places of honor at the table. “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 every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” Then he said to the host who invited him, “When you hold a lunch or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or your wealthy neighbors, in case they may invite you back and you have repayment. Rather, when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom (Proverbs 11: 2)

Luis CASASUS President of the Idente Missionaries

Rome, August 31, 2025 | XXII Sunday in Ordinary Time

Sir 3:17-18.20.28-29; Heb 12: 18-19.22-24a; Lk 14:1.7-14

1. A story with a Zen flavor. Kenshin was a young samurai whose fame preceded him in every village. One day, he was invited to a tea ceremony by Master Hakuin, known throughout the province for his skill with the sword, but even more so for the depth of his silence.

Along with Kenshin, two other guests were invited: an old farmer with hands cracked from working the land and a potter whose simple clothes smelled of clay.

Upon arriving at the small tea room, Kenshin observed the arrangement of the cushions. There was a place of clear honor, directly in front of the small altar with a scroll of calligraphy and a single lily in a vase. Without hesitation, and assuming that his status deserved it, Kenshin stepped forward and knelt on the main cushion. From there, he watched with an air of superiority as the farmer and the potter took the seats furthest from the entrance, the most humble places.

Master Hakuin entered the room silently. His gaze rested on each of his guests with the same calmness with which the moon rests on a pond. He made no comment on the choice of seats.

The ceremony began. Hakuin’s every movement was a poem: the pouring of the water, the whisking of the tea, the warming of the bowl. Finally, it was time to serve.

The master rose and, with the first bowl of steaming tea, walked directly to the old farmer. He knelt and offered it to him with a deep bow. Then he prepared a second bowl and, with the same deference, presented it to the potter.

Kenshin, in the seat of honor, waited his turn. He felt the heat rising to his cheeks. The last to be served was always the lowest in rank.

When Master Hakuin finally knelt in front of him, Kenshin could not contain himself. Master, he said, his voice as restrained as he could make it, have I offended this house? I occupy the place of honor, yet I am served last. Master Hakuin did not respond immediately. He simply offered him his tea bowl. Kenshin took it and looked inside, only to find that it was completely empty.

The cup that is already believed to be full, said Hakuin gently, cannot receive tea. The seat that is taken by force remains empty of honor. Honor is not a place that is occupied, but a gift that is received. And it can only be received with open hands and a humble seat.

Kenshin’s face flushed, not with anger, but with a sudden deep shame. He understood instantly. True honor was not in the cushion he had chosen, but in the humility he had lacked. Slowly, he rose, left the empty cup, and knelt in the lowest place, next to the door. Only then did Master Hakuin take a new cup, fill it with the finest tea, and offer it to him, this time with a warm smile. As he drank it, Kenshin felt he had never tasted anything so fulfilling.

For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted. True greatness does not lie in the recognition or attention we demand, but is granted to us when our hearts are humble enough to take the last place.

Furthermore, this story illuminates the value of humility in those who have received special gifts or positions, by presenting Master Hakuin serving tea to everyone with reverence and respect.

—ooOoo—

2. Your pride and mine. The humility that Jesus speaks of today has universal value and concerns every human being. Among people of low social status and humble class, as well as among those devoted to study or the most ignorant, we see pride in the attachment to opinions of all kinds, or to how any activity should be done, from tidying a closet to organizing a complex event.

The consequences are sad, not only because it obviously deteriorates coexistence, but also, as James clearly reminds us in his Epistle, God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble (James 4:6). Our pride makes dialogue with the Divine Persons impossible.

Pride is a trait commonly associated with people in positions of high authority, wealth, or fame. In “unimportant” people—if we use that term ironically—pride can manifest itself in more subtle but equally revealing ways:

Pride in “unimportant” people (most of us) is often a way of compensating for insecurities, frustrations, fear of rejection, or a life that does not meet their expectations. It is psychological armor that seeks to protect the ego, although in practice it makes it more fragile. The less you have, the easier it is for pride to turn into an illusion of greatness.

Our arrogance is often an overestimation of our own abilities and a disordered desire for excellence that is always looking for a stage on which to show off. These are some of the most common manifestations:

(i). The inability to ask for help or say “I don’t know.” For an arrogant person, admitting a shortcoming or a doubt is humiliating. They would rather make huge mistakes, get lost, or deliver mediocre work than ask for help. The phrases “I don’t know how to do this” or “can you help me?” are perceived as a declaration of inferiority, so they avoid them at all costs.

(ii). Criticizing and belittling others. This is one of the most common ways of boosting one’s self-esteem. They harshly criticize coworkers, neighbors, or even friends for their decisions, the way they dress, or their mistakes. By pointing out the faults of others, they seek to create an illusion of superiority. Often, this criticism focuses on areas where the arrogant person feels particularly insecure.

(iii). Total rejection of criticism and correction. An arrogant person is incapable of accepting constructive criticism. Any suggestion for improvement is taken as a personal attack and a direct offense to their worth. Their reaction is usually defensive, aggressive, or contemptuous toward the person offering the advice (Who are you to tell me how to do things?). This severely limits their ability to learn or change.

(iv). The need to always be right. In any conversation, from a debate about sports to a discussion about the best route to get somewhere, arrogant people will fight to the end to impose their point of view. They are not looking for the truth or the best solution, but for victory. Admitting they were wrong is intolerable to their ego, so they will use fallacies, change the subject, interrupt others, or raise their voice to “win” the argument. Even if they lack in-depth knowledge, they insist on imposing their point of view as if it were unquestionable.

(v). Taking credit for others’ achievements and minimizing their own mistakes. In a work environment or group projects, they rush to take credit for successes, even if their contribution has been minimal. Conversely, when something goes wrong, they are experts at blaming others, circumstances, or bad luck. They never take responsibility for their part.

(vi). Excessive competitiveness in trivial areas. They bring competition to all aspects of life, even the most absurd: who tells the most interesting anecdote at a dinner party or who knows the most obscure fact. They turn any interaction into an opportunity to prove that they are “better” than others. They make constant comparisons: They feel superior to others in their immediate environment (neighbors, colleagues, family members), even if they have no notable achievements.

(vii). False modesty, victimhood, and covert ostentation. Sometimes pride is disguised as humility. It is the person who says: Ugh, I’m exhausted. I had to clean up the mess the morning team left behind all by myself, but hey, someone had to do it. This is a complaint that actually seeks recognition and flattery, a way of talking about their own achievements under the guise of sacrifice.

On other occasions, there is an apparent humility that hides arrogance: phrases such as: I’m nobody, but… followed by harsh judgments or scathing criticism.

In conclusion, arrogance in “unimportant” people does not manifest itself in grand displays of power, but in everyday interactions. It is a fragile armor that, although it seeks to protect a wounded ego, ends up alienating others, hindering personal growth, and silencing the voice of Divine Persons.

—ooOoo—

3. A missionary recounted how a party was held in a luxurious upper-class villa, in one of those cities where poverty can be seen alongside the most extravagant luxury. At the end of the party for their daughter’s birthday, a brilliant university student, the parents ordered the servants to tidy up the room. The table was covered with large amounts of leftover meat, rice, cakes…

What shall we do with all this? asked the husband, somewhat embarrassed. His wife paused for a moment and, as if realizing her mistake, added: We invited the wrong people: people who weren’t hungry.

We are afraid that hungry, disoriented, difficult people will come to us… for fear that they will waste our time and energy. However, the party of our lives could end in disappointment: we could be left with the goods that the Father has given us to feed his poor.

The poor, the blind, the crippled, the lame represent those who have done evil in their lives. They are the symbol of those who walk without the light of the Gospel and stumble, fall, hurt themselves and others, going from one mistake to another. Jesus reminds his disciples that the feast has been organized just for them. He is present in them, in a way that is especially invisible to the eyes of the world. The characteristic that unites them is that they cannot return the favor.

The true apostle devotes himself to caring for the vocations he discovers and also to bringing peace to those who have no interest in the spiritual life. Both attitudes are continually manifested in the life of Christ.

When we humans do a favor, we immediately think of the quid pro quo; we almost instinctively calculate the benefits we can obtain, whether material or spiritual. Moving from this natural attitude to a firm dependence on the instinct for happiness is also… very natural.

Jesus asks his disciples to love freely, to do good without expecting anything in return. He recommends welcoming into their homes those who can give nothing in return.

The reward will be given by God in heaven, a heaven that we can feel present in this life because we feel that our efforts, however small they may seem, will have eternal value.

It is not a matter of waiting for a greater reward at the end of this life. Those who love, seeking primarily the good of their neighbor, become like the Father who is in heaven. They experience the very joy of God from now on.

_______________________________

In the Sacred Hearts of Jesus, Mary and Joseph,

Luis CASASUS

President