Summary: Creating a seating chart for wedding guests is a work of art. It's a delicate dance of diplomacy and psychology, requiring the wisdom of Solomon, the creativity of Picasso and, sometimes, the conflict-resolution skills of a hostage negotiator. It's a seating situation that gives Jesus an opportunity to direct our attention to two groups of actors in the little drama of today's Gospel reading: the guests and the hosts.
Seating charts are the Rubik's Cube of event planning. Few tasks are more daunting -- or more hilariously fraught with peril -- than deciding who sits next to whom at a wedding reception, for example. It's a delicate dance of diplomacy and psychology, requiring the wisdom of Solomon, the creativity of Picasso and, sometimes, the conflict-resolution skills of a hostage negotiator.
A wedding seating chart isn't just about logistics; it's a test of imagination and patience. Because if done right, it's not just about keeping the peace but creating a vibe -- a magical mingling of personalities where everyone, at least for one night, feels as though they're in the best seat in the house.
It's a seating situation that gives Jesus an opportunity to direct our attention to two groups of actors in this little drama: the guests and the hosts. The text says that Jesus "was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the Sabbath." So, let's start with the guests and note that Jesus sees an opening to imprint two important -- and obvious -- values on the immature but theologically developing minds of his disciples. But in doing so, he introduces a surprising issue that often goes unnoticed.
Typically, absent artificial restraints like queue straps at TSA security lines, the average person is going to jockey for or pay for the best affordable seat on the Airbus 320, or in the opera house or sports arena. In fact, it is this very human tendency that has been the driving force behind most efforts to mitigate damage when mayhem may ensue. Southwest Airlines had a "longstanding policy of allowing passengers to pick their seats once they have boarded." Not anymore.1
In this passage, Jesus observes how guests choose places of honor for themselves. He quickly sees that the host and guests have it all wrong. Instead of clamoring for the best seats, Jesus advises choosing the lowliest, least desirable seating -- such as the one in which a large fern obscures your view of the speaker's dais -- leaving the hosts to move you to the front if they see fit. He ends with the principle: "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted."
Humility. It goes a long way, doesn't it? For some reason, there's something about humility that cloaks our humanity in its best possible look. Humility makes us look good. Perhaps it's because, like disciples, humble people are coachable. They seem intuitively to recognize that they don't have all the answers and are open to learning from others. As a result, humility is a sort of hedge against catastrophic errors of judgment. Perhaps this is what the French philosopher Montaigne was getting at when he reportedly said, "I prefer the company of peasants because they have not been educated sufficiently to reason incorrectly."2 Humility never claims to have all the answers. And this is refreshing when we see it in others, especially in sports icons or celebrities.
Why is humility so attractive when we see it in others? It's tough to identify any one trait. It just is. We like humble people because they're so often authentic, have an aura of wisdom and a commitment to others. It's a virtue that balances confidence with kindness, ambition with service and success with self-awareness.
And, what's more, it's not as though we're debasing ourselves. Oh, no; humility is not about self-abnegation or puerile servility, but rather about lifting up and valuing others more than ourselves. This quality is rare. We live in a world often dominated by self-promotion, so it's frankly rather awesome when we spot someone who is other-centric, and therefore someone who inspires us to be a better version of ourselves.
On the other hand, the perks of pride are short-lived. Pride overestimates its importance. It whispers, "You deserve the best seat." C.S. Lewis called pride "the complete anti-God state of mind" because it focuses entirely on self, ignoring God and others.3 Alliteratively, Jesus was pointing to the "perils of pride," or "pride's peril." Do you really want to dash for the best seat in the house, plant your flag, only to have security arrive and not-so-gently suggest you take a seat in the balcony?
For Jesus, there was no better example of this than the ego-stuffed, pompous and self-righteous Pharisees who seemed to be just begging to have someone poke a pin in their pride. Jesus had little patience for these prideful, super-pious religious types who looked as good on the outside as they were rotten on the inside. This is what pride and arrogance do: They camouflage how empty and superficial the subject actually is.
One more issue remains to be addressed. The theme of today's Gospel text seems to be humility, but then Jesus surprises us by offering a tantalizing incentive: a future reversal of fortunes. If you humble yourselves now, don't worry. Someday you will be "exalted" (see especially verses 10-11). We have the means (humility); we have the opportunity (our interactions with others) but motive is a problem. Why do we and should we defer to others? Because it is in our best interests to do so? If so, this is a problem.
Let's step back a bit and leave the Bible for a moment. Aristotle observed that the "pleasure principle" is what guides human behavior. But for the Greek philosopher, pleasure is best achieved by doing what is right and good.4 The curmudgeonly 18th-century philosopher Immanuel Kant argued that moral decency requires that individuals act out of duty, not the pursuit of pleasure, and that the quest should be based not based on personal inclinations or for the sake of desired outcomes.5 And so, the debate has raged for millennia: Can any act be truly altruistic -- entirely free of self-interest?6
Do you see where this is headed? It just seems a little crass to do something good because we shall someday be repaid in kind, or because humbly offering the best seat to someone else makes us feel good.7
Yet, here's what goes unnoticed: Jesus' advice about seeking a humble seat at the table is not really about the reward, but rather about the One doing the rewarding! It is God who will lift up the humble, who will exalt the righteous, who will grant us our reward in this life, or more probably the next. This makes a huge difference.
So, let's not get overly concerned about whether the gentle reminder to humble ourselves is really a back door, side door or garage door way of suggesting that "effective altruism"8 is the best way to draw attention to ourselves. It isn't. In this world, the chances that you're going to get upgraded to First Class just because you have a nice smile and a demure demeanor are slim to none. You'll still have the middle seat between a chatty Cathy on your right who can talk the ears off a mule, and on your left, a plus-sized, 350-pound offensive linebacker for the Green Bay Packers.
Finally, a quick word about the hosts. What leaps out at the reader is the host's concern about the guest list. Jesus, addressing his host, specifically admonishes him to forget about a banquet for family or friends, but to instead "invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind." Here, Jesus not only reminds us about the restorative and radical nature of our mission but also invokes an eschatological image when the people of all nations, tribes and languages shall sit down at the feast prepared for them before the foundation of the world -- a feast at which we, too, shall be present.
This "preferential option for the poor,"9 in fact, is a subject dear to the heart of Pope Francis. While visiting a slum on the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro in connection with World Youth Day events, he said "The measure of the greatness of a society is found in the way it treats those most in need, those who have nothing apart from their poverty."10 In his Apostolic Exhortation, EVANGELII GAUDIUM, he wrote, "A Church which 'goes forth' is a Church whose doors are open. Going out to others in order to reach the fringes of humanity does not mean rushing out aimlessly into the world. Often it is better simply to slow down, to put aside our eagerness in order to see and listen to others, to stop rushing from one thing to another and to remain with someone who has faltered along the way. At times we have to be like the father of the prodigal son, who always keeps his door open so that when the son returns, he can readily pass through it."11
In God's kingdom, the best seat on the seating chart isn't earned by self-promotion but by a heart of humility and a meek-shall-inherit-the-earth "Jimmy Carteresque" desire for peace. Jesus himself is our template. He not only taught us about humility; he lived it. Philippians reminds us that although Jesus was equal with God, he took the form of a servant, humbling himself to the point of death on a cross.12
So, before we scramble to get the best seat, to get to the head of the line, to grab the pole position, we might remember his promise: "You will be blessed because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."
Joey: I'm sorry Pheebs, I just, y'know, I just wanted to do a good deed. Like-like you did with the babies.
Phoebe: This isn't a good deed, you just wanted to get on TV! This is totally selfish.
Joey: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What about you, having those babies for your brother? Talk about selfish!
Phoebe: What-what are you talking about?!
Joey: Well, yeah, it was a really nice thing and all, but it made you feel really good right?
Phoebe: Yeah. So?
Joey: It made you feel good, so that makes it selfish. Look, there's no unselfish good deeds, sorry.
Phoebe: Yes there are! There are totally good deeds that are selfless.Joey: Well, may I ask for one example?Phoebe: Yeah, it's ... Y'know there's -- no you may not!
(They are standing on either side of Chandler as they discuss the point. Chandler, meanwhile, is disgusted with the whole argument.)
Joey: That's because all people are selfish.
Phoebe: Are you calling me selfish?!
Joey: Are you calling you people? (Chandler rolls his eyes.) Yeah, well sorry to burst that bubble, Pheebs, but selfless good deeds don't exist. Okay? And you the deal on Santa Claus, right?
Phoebe: I'm gonna find a selfless good deed. I'm gonna beat you, you evil genius.