When You’re Not the Guest of Honor

Most of us have felt that awkward moment of walking into a room and wondering where to sit. Do I belong here? Will anyone notice me? Should I try to look confident, even if I’m not?

This week’s mass readings feel like a warm invitation to let go of all that. Sirach begins with “My child…” not “My servant” or “My subject,” but “My child.” It’s tender and personal. And it reminds us that humility isn’t about disappearing, it is about being real. You don’t have to be the loudest, the smartest, or the most impressive. Just be honest and grounded, that is where love finds you.

Jesus picks up the thread in Luke’s Gospel. He’s watching people scramble for the best seats at a dinner party, and He gently tells a story: “Take the lowest place.” Not because you’re less than but because that’s where grace tends to show up first. That’s where God whispers, “Friend, come up higher.”

I thought of a conversation I had recently with a friend whose husband passed away a few years ago. She told me how hard it is to walk into gatherings now—how she feels out of place, unsure where she fits. There’s no couple’s table for her anymore. No familiar rhythm. Just a quiet ache and the question: “Where do I belong?”

And maybe that’s the point. The lowest place isn’t a punishment it’s a posture. It’s the quiet corner where God sees you, where the poor and the forgotten are already gathered, where the feast begins long before the spotlight hits.

Psalm 68 reminds us that God is the defender of widows, the father of orphans, the one who gives a home to the forsaken. This image shows us the kind of host He is, one where no one gets left out and no one gets overlooked.

So if you’re feeling small, unsure, or just tired of trying to earn your seat maybe this Sunday is your permission to stop striving. To sit down in the quiet place. To trust that God sees you there. And to believe that the real celebration starts not with honor, but with humility.