Brief synopsis of the readings: Yes, we’re doing it again. Our first reading comes from the Old Testament book of Sirach, a book that only Catholics recognize. Sirach’s book gives advice to his son. Here he encourages his son to be gentle in business: “The greater you are, the more you should behave humbly, and then you will find favor with the Lord.” Additionally, there “is no cure for the proud man’s malady, since an evil growth has taken root in him.” Luke’s Gospel describes a scene where Jesus dines at the home of a Pharisee. “They watched him closely.” Recognizing this, Jesus tells them a parable: “When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take your seat in the place of honor. A more distinguished person than you may have been invited, and the person who invited you both may come and say ‘Give up your place to this man.'” Humiliated, the man then needs to occupy a lesser place. Instead, Jesus suggests that if you are invited, you should occupy the least place, for the host may approach you and ask you to occupy a place of honor. Jesus then suggests that if you are planning a feast you should invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind. The fact that they cannot repay you elevates you in the eyes of God.

I’m probably not alone in this, but for as long as I can remember this Gospel made sense to me. We are social animals and from our earliest memories we’ve been concerned with our social status, and being embarrassed or humiliated in front of others horrifies us. And let’s face it: we all remember experiences where our desire for increased social standing backfired and no amount of time or place can erase that memory. High school lunch tables became battlefields of status and social standing often rose or fell on who we were dating. When I was sixteen I was on a high school ski trip in Vermont and I saw a buffet line in the ski lodge. I didn’t see a cash register but I was hungry and the food looked good and I assumed it was for all of us. It wasn’t. Halfway through the line I was told that this food was only for the ski instructors and I didn’t belong. Humiliated, I gave my half filled plate to someone else and crawled back to my group.

But I don’t think this is what Jesus had in mind when he told this parable. Much as we love Jesus, and much as we look to him to give value and purpose to our life, I don’t think Jesus saw his role as an advisor on how to avoid embarrassment: he wasn’t the redeeming “Dear Abby.” Instead, I think Jesus wants us to learn how to see the world differently. I think Jesus calls us to rethink our desires, ambitions, and understanding of how the world works and how our lives fit into it.

And I think these readings resonate in our time more than almost any other.

In the second decade of the twenty first century, self promotion and the need for advanced social standing has reached nearly epic and sacramental proportions. Reality programs call us to win and state that “I’m not here to make friends.” Incessant polls tell us that our opinion matters while (at the same time) they tell us that we are “in or out.” We find increasing pressure to be part of what everyone else is thinking.

And if that weren’t bad enough, the idea of humility, of sharing credit and doing something that makes another look good, makes us suckers. We have to constantly “look out for number 1.”

And for those of us who spent high school praying adulthood would spare us from a lifetime of this, well, I have bad news.

But I also have good news. While left our own devices we create a world of winners and losers, Jesus gives us another plan. Instead of concerning ourselves with our own status, what would happen if we concerned ourselves with promoting the status of others? What would that world look like? I think it would look pretty good.

Imagine ourselves back in high school and we belong at the mid level lunch table. We’re not with the football players and cheerleaders, but we’re also not at the table designated for the poor and the outcasts. Instead of planning strategy to move up to the “cool kids” table, what would happen if we invited one of the outcasts to join us? What if we elevated the status of another? Would that diminish us, or make our table more desirable?

I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that this Gospel calls us to a radically different way to view the world and our place in it. Last century a philosopher and author named Ayn Rand wrote about objectivism. She claimed that we all do better when each of us pursues only our own interests; anything we provide to others only allows them to become weak and lazy. Here in the United States, the Speaker of the Houses of Representatives (Paul Ryan) points to her writings as critical to his beliefs.

But I hold that in the final word, ambition is finite. Going back to the Gospel, the person who claims a place of honor competes for a limited position. If several people vie for the same seat only one will be successful and all the others will slink back to a lesser seat.

But while ambition is finite, generosity is not. Generosity is unlimited. If we strive to promote the standing of others there is no limit, no glass ceiling. Much like the humble guest at the wedding, our status improves because of our generosity.

But how do we do that today? Let’s face it: most wedding receptions assign us tables and that eliminates the competition we see. But let’s look more globally. Do we have a new neighbor? Reach out. We all remember moving to a new area and the anxiety of worrying whether we’ll be welcome. Do we work in an office where someone doesn’t appear to “click” with us? Maybe that person is too shy or scared to advance himself.

My work as a chaplain in health care gives me a strong understanding of how a hierarchy can work. The doctors are on top, followed by the nurses, then the chaplains and social workers, followed by the home health aids (or nursing assistants). I truly hate certain nursing homes because the nurses are downright dismissive of or rude to the home health aids. There have been times when I’ve advocated for or befriended the home health aids and I can’t tell you how much those experiences have benefitted me. And it’s happened on several levels: as a group they’ve expressed their gratitude to me. But they’ve also trusted me enough to tell me about spiritual pain in patients who wouldn’t have told me (I joke with them that people are generally more honest when they’re naked). And they’ve trusted me enough to tell me about their own pain and joy; I’ve seen them become more effective in their work because they looked up to someone who lifted them up.

And it’s a funny thing: Ambition makes one person the winner and the other the loser. Generosity makes both winners.