There’s something about a dinner table that brings out the best and the worst in us. We know the scene well. Someone glances at the seating chart, someone else hovers to see who will sit near the host, and another pretends not to care while keeping an eye on who is at the “important” table. Even in our ordinary lives—at weddings, company banquets, or school cafeterias—status has a way of sneaking in through where we sit. We want to belong, to be seen, maybe even to be admired.

In Sunday’s Gospel (Luke 14:1, 7-14), Jesus notices the same thing at a Pharisee’s home. Guests angle for the best spots, eager to be near the action. Instead of scolding, Jesus tells a parable. “When you are invited, go and take the lowest place so that the host may say, ‘My friend, move up to a higher position’” (Luke 14:10). He flips the whole social order on its head: the one who humbles himself will be exalted, while the one who exalts himself will be humbled. Then Jesus goes further. When you host a banquet, he says, don’t invite the ones who can pay you back—your friends, family, or wealthy neighbors. Invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. That’s where God’s blessing is found.

The Hunger for Recognition

We hear this and nod in agreement, but if we’re honest, the desire for recognition still tugs at us. Think of the last time you scrolled through social media and compared yourself to someone else. Maybe it was their vacation photos, their new promotion, or even the way their family seemed effortlessly happy. The temptation to measure our worth against others is everywhere. And it’s exhausting.

Even in small, hidden ways, we scramble for “the best seat.” At work, we may want our efforts noticed. At school, we often yearn for the approval of our friends. In families, we sometimes keep score of who contributes more or sacrifices less. None of this is unusual—it’s human. But Jesus is offering us a way out of this endless comparison game. He says: Stop trying to claim your worth by where you sit. You are already loved by God.

Humility as Truthful Living

Sirach emphasizes humility: “My child, conduct your affairs with humility, and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts” (Sirach 3:17). While generosity is admired—whether providing a meal, writing a check, or donating time—true humility goes deeper. It shows that genuine love isn’t about recognition or power, but recognizing that all we give is a gift from God. Humble persons see themselves as stewards, not owners, and their giving is an act of love without strings attached.

Hebrews widens the view. We are not coming to a blazing fire or trembling fear like Israel at Mount Sinai, but to “the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem” (Hebrews 12:22). We already belong at the table—not because of status, wealth, or talent, but because Christ himself has made a place for us. Jesus is the host who takes the lowest seat, pouring out his life on the cross so that we might sit with him in glory.

And this is where the Eucharist speaks so clearly. Every time we gather, we line up side by side—doctors and janitors, elders and children, the polished and the weary. No one has a better seat at the Lord’s table. We all stretch out our hands to receive the same gift: Christ’s Body and Blood, broken and poured out for us. The Eucharist reveals that God’s kingdom doesn’t work like the world’s pecking order. Here, the last are first, the hungry are fed, and the humble are lifted up.

Living as Eucharistic People

As Eucharistic people, we are called to live this way beyond the church walls. To take the lower seat means slowing down to listen instead of rushing to speak. It means letting someone else go first, even if you had the right-of-way. It means recognizing the dignity of those our culture often ignores—the cashier, the elderly neighbor, the child who struggles to belong.

And it also means rethinking our guest lists. Jesus asks us to invite those who cannot repay us. That could look like reaching out to someone lonely, offering time to someone who is grieving, or including the student at school who usually eats lunch alone. As Eucharistic people, we are meant to widen the circle of love so that no one is left out.

A Call to Take the Lower Seat

So what about you? Where in your life are you scrambling for the “best seat”? Is it the approval of a boss, the admiration of friends, or the quiet scoreboard you keep at home? What would it mean this week to let go of that scramble and take the lower place?

Here’s one concrete challenge: at home, let someone else choose first at dinner, the TV remote, or the game. At work, recognize the efforts of a coworker who rarely gets noticed. At school, sit with the person who’s usually left out. At church, greet someone you don’t know by name. These aren’t small gestures. They’re Eucharistic. Because when we live this way, we reflect the Christ we receive—Christ who humbled himself and gave us his very life.

The Eucharist doesn’t just nourish us; it sends us out. We become what we receive—the Body of Christ for the world. When we take the lower seat in daily life, we aren’t losing out. We’re making room for God’s kingdom to shine through us. That is where true honor lies.

Let us pray.

Lord Jesus, you show me that greatness comes not from grasping but from giving. In the Eucharist, you take the lowest place, offering yourself completely for me. Teach me to live with that same humility—in my family, at work, at school, and in every encounter. Make me a living sign of your love, so that in all I do, I reflect you. Amen.