Homily – Humility

“Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and everyone who humbles himself will be exalted.”

That is not good advice; it is divine law. Pride built hell. Humility opens heaven. Pride slammed the gates of Eden. Humility unlocked the gates of Paradise. Pride turned angels into devils. Humility makes sinners into saints.

If pride is the disease, humility is the medicine. If pride is the wound, humility is the healing balm. If pride is the ladder down to destruction, humility is the ladder up to glory.

And Christ today shows us the only path to His Kingdom: the way up is always down.

Sirach tells us, “My child, conduct your affairs with humility, and you will be loved more than a giver of gifts.”

Notice that. Humility is more attractive than generosity. Why? Because generosity without humility is show. Humility makes even the smallest act shine.

God pours grace downhill; it pools in the low places.

The proud heart leaks grace. The humble heart receives it. That is why the Blessed Virgin, the humblest of creatures, is also the greatest. God saw her lowliness and did mighty things for her.

Pride says, “Look at me.”

Humility says, “Look at Him.”

Grace says, “Look what He can do with me.”

The Letter to the Hebrews lifts our eyes: not Sinai in fear, but Zion in joy. Not fire and smoke, but angels in festal array. Not commands carved in stone, but covenant sealed in blood.

Too many think Catholicism is a prison of rules. Hebrews says otherwise: it is a procession to a feast. Sinai shouted, “Keep away.” Zion sings, “Come close.”

The law said, “Stand back.” The Cross says, “Draw near.” The Eucharist says, “Take and eat.” You can’t get closer than that!

That is why we are Catholic. Not because of burdens, but because of belonging. Not because of law, but because of love. Not because of fear, but because of festal joy.

Now the scene: Jesus at table, watching guests scramble for the best seats. He tells them: take the lowest seat. Because if you grab the high one, you will be shamed. But if you take the low one, you will be honored.

This is more than etiquette. It is the Gospel in miniature. On the cross, Christ took the lowest seat — the tree of shame. And the Father raised Him to the highest place, the name above every name.

The Cross is the lowest seat — and the highest throne.

But Jesus presses further: when you give a banquet, don’t invite those who can repay. Invite the poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame. Why? Because that is what God has done. He invited us. We are the poor in holiness, the crippled in charity, the blind in truth, the lame in virtue — yet He set a place for us at His table.

At God’s feast, beggars eat like kings, and sinners are seated as children.

Why should we choose humility? Because it is the truth. Pride is a lie — the lie that we are gods, self-sufficient, self-made. Humility is reality: we are creatures, dependent, redeemed.

And humility is the strongest draw to the Church. The world expects arrogance from Christians. But when it meets humility, it listens. The saints converted more by humility than by argument. St. Francis, Thérèse, Mother Teresa — they evangelised by going low.

The Church wins the world not by pride of place, but by place of service.

The Church must kneel before it can preach. The Christian must wash feet before they can win hearts. It is the kneeling Church that will rise victorious.

Where do we live humility?

At home. Pride keeps score; humility serves freely. Pride shouts; humility listens. Pride demands; humility gives.

At work. Pride scrambles for credit; humility does the job well and lets God reward.

At Church. Pride seeks titles, position; humility seeks towels. Pride says, “Notice me.” Humility says, “Use me.”

And pride also finds its way into our speech. Pride whispers, “Did you hear…?” Pride feeds gossip, and gossip poisons the Body of Christ.

Scripture is blunt about this: St James says the tongue is like a spark that can set a whole forest ablaze (Jas 3:5). St Paul lists gossip among the sins that tear down a community (2 Cor 12:20; Rom 1:29). Gossip never builds up the Church — it corrodes it from within.

Humility, on the other hand, closes its mouth and opens its heart. Humility says, “Instead of repeating this, I will pray. Instead of stirring trouble, I will serve.” The parish that grows holy is the parish that lets words be seasoned with grace, not with suspicion.

So when gossip tempts us, the humble answer is: “I’ll leave that in God’s hands.” That little line is a spiritual towel — drying up the mess pride leaves behind.

Pride gossips in the porch; humility prays in the pew. Pride tears down; humility builds up. If we want a holy parish, we need fewer rumours — and more towels.

The world climbs ladders; Catholics carry towels; saints wash feet.

Every Mass is the banquet of humility. Here the Lord stoops to feed us with Himself. Here the Almighty hides under the appearance of bread. Here the King becomes our food.

And we approach with the only fitting words: “Lord, I am not worthy.” Pride has no place at this altar. We kneel, we bow, we confess, we receive.

The Eucharist is God’s humility feeding ours.

At every Mass, the proud go away empty; the humble are filled with good things.

This week we celebrated St. Augustine. He knew the danger of pride. For years he delayed, deceived, and prayed, “Lord, make me chaste — but not yet.” That is the voice of pride: tomorrow, later, another time.

But grace humbled him. He heard, “Take and read.” He opened Scripture: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ.” And at once, pride died, humility lived, grace triumphed.

Sin always says, “Tomorrow.” Grace always says, “Today.” Christ always says, “Now.”

Augustine teaches us: it is never too late to bend the knee. The proud wander, the humble return. The proud delay, the humble decide.

So what is the message today? Simple, but hard: bow low, and you will be lifted high. Take the lowest seat now, and God will say, “Friend, come higher.” Invite those who cannot repay, and God Himself will repay at the resurrection.

Bow low before God. Bend low for your neighbor. Rise high with Christ forever.

This is Catholic evangelisation: not arrogance, not power, not self-importance, but humility lived, grace received, service given.

Sirach told us: humble yourself and you will find favor. Hebrews told us: you are not in fear but in festal joy. The Gospel told us: take the low seat now, and you will be lifted at the banquet of eternity.

This is the whole Christian life:

Pride cast us down.

Christ stooped low.

Humility lifts us up.

And this is the whole Catholic call:

Serve in humility.

Worship in humility.

Evangelise in humility.

So those who can, kneel today before the Lord. Let us bow low with the angels. Let us confess our unworthiness. And let us rise from this banquet ready to live humility in the world — at home, at work, in our parish, with friend and stranger alike.

Then, on the Last Day, when the true feast begins, we will hear the sweetest words of all: “Friend, move up higher.”