Both St Paul and Jesus are dealing with the same problem today — spiritual pride. The pride that says, “I’m in, they’re out.”
The pride that creeps into religion whenever we forget that grace, not greatness, saves us.

In Romans 11, Paul is speaking about his own people, Israel.
Many have not yet recognised Christ, and some Gentile Christians are feeling superior. So Paul corrects them: “Has God rejected His people? Of course not!”

Israel’s story, he says, is not over.
God’s gifts and His call are irrevocable.
Even when we are unfaithful, God remains faithful.
His mercy doesn’t expire when we do.

That’s the heart of Paul’s theology — and of the whole Gospel:
salvation is mercy, not merit.
We don’t earn it, we receive it.
And the moment we start comparing ourselves to others, we’ve already missed the point.

That’s exactly what Jesus tackles in today’s Gospel. He’s eating in the house of a Pharisee, and He notices how everyone rushes for the best seats.

He turns it into a parable: “When you are invited to a wedding feast, don’t sit in the place of honour. Sit in the lowest place.
For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled,
and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

It’s a lesson we need every day — not just for banquets, but for hearts.
The Kingdom of God has one rule of seating:
the proud stand at the back; the humble get moved up.

The Pharisees wanted status in the synagogue.
We might want it in subtler ways — to be right, to be noticed, to be praised.
But pride, however religious it looks, blocks grace.
Because grace only flows downhill.

Jesus isn’t asking us to fake humility; He’s revealing God’s own heart.

The eternal Son of God took the lowest place —
born in a manger, nailed to a cross.
He didn’t just tell a story about humility; He lived it.

Every time we come to Mass, that same humility is made present again.
Christ takes the lowest place —
He becomes food for sinners, He hides in the form of bread.

That’s the measure of divine love: not grasping at glory, but giving Himself away.
And that’s the model for our lives too.

Paul’s warning to the Romans still echoes:
Don’t look down on anyone God hasn’t finished with.
There are no “hopeless cases” in the Kingdom.
The Lord’s mercy is bigger than our categories.

When we see someone far from God, our first thought shouldn’t be, “How could they?” but “How can I pray for them?”
When we see someone fall, our instinct shouldn’t be judgement,
but compassion — because tomorrow it could be us.

True humility doesn’t mean thinking less of yourself;
it means thinking of yourself less.
It’s remembering that every breath is borrowed mercy.

Heaven isn’t a competition. It’s a banquet of grace.
And the door is low — you can’t enter standing tall with pride.
You have to kneel to get in.

The saints are simply those who learned to kneel —
not because they were weak, but because they were wise.
They knew that everything good in them was grace,
and that grace flows to the lowest point.

So today, Paul reminds us that God never gives up on His people,
and Jesus reminds us that He lifts up the lowly.

If we stay humble, we stay open. If we stay merciful, we stay close to God.

So take the lowest place —
in your prayer, in your heart, in your dealings with others —
and watch what God does with it.

Because in His Kingdom, the low place is the safe place,
and the humble seat is the one closest to His heart.