Lectionary Commentaries for August 31, 2025
Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Jesus likes to eat, fellowship, and party with others across a range of backgrounds. This is something we see throughout the Gospel of Luke (5:29–30; 10:38–42; 11:37). Thus, it should not be a surprise that in this week’s lectionary passage, Jesus is at a meal. 

People watching

Specifically, in our text, Jesus is at “a meal on the Sabbath” at the house of a prominent Pharisee, a member of the religious elite (14:1). Preachers will want to avoid perpetuating an overly negative portrayal of all Pharisees. In the preceding chapter, for example, Jesus seems to have been warned by some Pharisees to leave a region in order to keep from being killed (see also 13:31). Moreover, as religious leaders devoted to the Torah, Jesus and the Pharisees shared more in common than is often realized. Still, theirs was a tense relationship. Among other things, Jesus regularly challenges their interpretation of the Sabbath (13:10–17; 14:2–6). Hence, while Jesus is at the meal, the religious leaders are “watching him closely” (14:1). 

However, as they are watching Jesus, Jesus begins watching them—that is, he notices the actions of the “guests” at the meal (14:7). In other words, Jesus is people-watching. He’s checking out who is talking to whom, where people are sitting, who is present, and who is absent. As a result, Jesus offers two related teachings.   

Seats of status

First, in verses 7–11, Jesus tells the guests at the meal to pay attention to the seats they seek. Jesus notices that people at the meal “chose the places of honor” (14:7). In other words, they are seeking seats of status. In Greco-Roman society, formal meals like this would often take place at a U-shaped table. Each guest would be assigned a seat at the table that demonstrated their rank or social standing—from highest to lowest. It would be deeply shameful to sit at the place of honor, only to be moved to the lowest place. Jesus tells a parable of “a wedding banquet” where this kind of behavior is taking place, to challenge the attention and affections of those at the meal (14:8).

Given the celebrity culture of our society, preachers may want to include an example of how we often try to position ourselves in places of status. I experienced this temptation recently as I was at a small gathering with a well-known pastor. When I walked into the room, I realized there was an open seat next to the pastor. Immediately, I was struck by how strong my desire was to sit next to the person. While I could list several reasons, I know that a significant part of why I wanted to sit next to the pastor is that I thought some of their status might rub off on me. I wanted the best seat. However, in this parable, Jesus speaks to the perils of pursuing places of honor. 

Rather than seeking positions and places of status, Jesus suggests that the religious leaders choose the lowest places. Why? Luke records these challenging words from Jesus: “For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (14:11). It is vital to remember the audience in this text. Jesus does not call the marginalized, poor, and often-overlooked servants at the party to humble themselves. Rather, he is speaking to the guests gathered for a meal at “the house of a leader of the Pharisees” (14:1). Most of these folks are likely of rather high status. 

Preachers should be attentive to the different ways in which folks might be called to live out humility, given our different positions in the world. Everyone is called to humility, but the path may look different. Moreover, it is important to note that Jesus’ words on humility should not be understood as simply good advice or a formula for advancing ourselves socially. This would be missing the profundity of Luke’s broader vision of the subversive order of God’s reign (1:46–56; 4:18–19; 6:20–26). Jesus isn’t offering tips for how to climb the social ladder. Instead, Jesus invites us to live in an entirely different world within this world—a world called the kingdom of God. 

Expanding our guest list

In the second portion of the lectionary passage, verses 12–14, Jesus continues to subvert the norms of his time. Directing his words to the organizer of the party or “the one who had invited him,” Jesus says that when you plan a meal, you ought “not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors” (14:12). This may sound odd. However, it was common practice in Greco-Roman society to invite people to parties who could in some way benefit you socially. People expected others to reciprocate or pay back their good deed. It made sense to invite your friends, family, and, of course, rich neighbors to a party. However, Jesus says this is the wrong guest list. Or at the least, the guest list is too narrow. 

Rather, Jesus says, “Invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” (14:13). This is a list of individuals who would’ve been socially and religiously excluded in ancient society. Jesus says these are the kinds of folks we should intentionally embrace. Earlier, Jesus did this as he healed “a man who had dropsy” (14:2). For this reason, even though it is not part of the lectionary this week, preachers may find it helpful to allude to the healing. Moreover, preachers might consider inviting listeners into a time of reflection on who tends to make their “guest list.” Who do we tend to eat with? Who is invited to our gatherings? And how might the Spirit be prompting us as a community to expand our guest lists?

Of course, for Jesus, the goal of expanding our guest lists is not to be repaid by others, since we will ultimately be “repaid at the resurrection of the righteous” (14:14). Jesus’ reference seems to relate to the eschatological banquet or feast that is referenced in verses 15–24 in a parable—a theme that appears in the Scriptures again and again (Isaiah 25:6–8; 55:1–2; 65:13–14; Luke 5:34–35; Revelation 19:7–9). In short, we can trust the abundance of God. No one who lives in Jesus and his humble way will miss a seat at the table that matters most.

“O God, if you are going to lift me, please lift me without losing me.” This prayer uttered by a nationally and internationally known preacher and evangelist brought great encouragement to me, so much so that I have prayed the same prayer many times over since I met him. I whisper it silently and sometimes out loud whenever a door opens because of God’s grace and mercy. In that same conversation, he told me that his life became a lot more enjoyable and exciting when he started to let God lift him and stopped trying so hard to lift himself. He decided against pushing and shoving his way through doors that were closed or barely open to him, opting instead to walk through doors that only God could have opened for him.

Proverbs 25:6–7 invites us into a similar vision of ourselves in terms of how we relate to our world—in particular, leaders in our world. It rids us of any pretensions that leaders are somehow fortunate to be around us or that churches are fortunate to have us. 

From time to time, it is good medicine for Christians, leaders in particular, to remember they are less important than they think they are. We need to hear it more often than we think we do. To paraphrase a popular and self-deprecating saying among Argentinians, “If an Argentinian wants to injure himself seriously, all he has to do is climb to the top of his ego and jump.”

According to Proverbs 25:6–7, the consequences for misguided self-promotion are especially serious when a person tries in vain to force himself or herself through doors that are closed or barely open in the first place. A wise person knows not to put himself or herself forward in the presence of a king or to “stand in the place of the great” (verse 6). 

Although it is impossible to prove, many scholars believe these sayings in Proverbs 25 inspired Jesus’ parable of the wedding banquet in Luke 14:7–11; thus, the pairing of Proverbs 25 with Luke 14 in the lectionary. In that parable, Jesus says that a guest at a wedding banquet should not sit in the place of honor only to be downgraded and humiliated. Rather, a guest should sit in a place of low status so that the host might come and say, “Friend, move up higher.” When the latter happens, the person will receive honor among the guests.  

Whether in Proverbs 25 or Luke 14, the same truism applies: It is better to be invited to move up than it is to be asked to move down. When the latter happens, not only does it lay bare one’s lack of humility and self-knowledge, but it also exposes one to great shame and humiliation in an honor/shame context. 

Let God lift you. It will be a lot more energizing and invigorating if God does it. God always seems to do a much better job than any of us could do.

When confronted with a passage like this, many of us try to find ways to slip free from its net. We remind ourselves and others of our prophetic task to speak truth to power. Neither this text nor the book of Proverbs as a whole contradicts the prophetic work that God desires from us. The leaders who are rebuked here have become so accustomed to the trappings of power that they are more interested in climbing ladders than they are in speaking truth. 

Even so, weary prophets have something to learn too. A popular proverb in India goes like this: “There is no use punching someone in the nose and giving him a rose smell.” Prophets would do well to hear and heed the words of Proverbs 12:18, “Rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” 

In a modern setting, a good way to insult your host at her dinner table is to tell her that the food is bland and her home is ugly. Even if it is true, you have lost a hearing rather than gained it. More importantly, you have lost the relationship as well.

Another mistake we make is to assume that this lesson has to do with behavior around those with influence and that it somehow does not deal with our character at all times in all places. This mistake can be especially seductive since so many proverbs involve situational wisdom in specific scenarios, as opposed to universally applicable responses for all situations. 

Although these verses deal with concrete situations, interactions with rulers, a group of people who show up in Proverbs 25 and elsewhere in the book, this way of seeing ourselves has universal application. One needs to look no further than Proverbs 27:2 to discover how important this is in every situation and not just when we are standing with kings or in the so-called places of the great: “Let another praise you and not your own mouth, a stranger and not your own lips.”

The writer of the book of James knew how important it was at all times and in all places, drawing from the book of Proverbs to make a similar insight: “Humble yourselves before the Lord and he will exalt you” (James 4:10; see also 4:6; Proverbs 3:34; 1 Peter 5:5–6). 

Jesus understood its applicability as well. In the parable of the wedding banquet, great joy comes to the host at seeing his guest be free from self-promotion and pretension. The guest adopts a far healthier posture, understanding himself or herself in relation to the master of the banquet rather than the other guests. 

When we adopt the same posture, we focus less on ourselves, our status in comparison to others, our relentless need to climb. We remember we are less important than we think we are. We place ourselves in relation to the One who is most important instead of to others. In doing so, we discover that it is far better for us to relate to God and others that way. Moreover, we let God lift us instead of working so hard to lift ourselves. We become last in the best sense of that word. The first will be last, and the last will be first. As Jesus puts it, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (Luke 14:11).

In a long-term relationship such as with a colleague, friend, or family member, expressing interpersonal anger or frustration can be—among many other things—a healthy expression of love, of commitment, of desire for a better relationship. In this passage, we encounter a glimpse of a raw, frustrated God, expressing anger against God’s people. 

This passage is located early in Jeremiah’s discourse, and it recounts God’s disappointment with the history of Israel’s repeated failures as God’s people. The prophet decries an array of powerful figures in the nation, including priests, prophets, and leaders. The entire system is corrupt and guilty of idolatry. 

While we cannot be certain exactly what period this portion of Jeremiah was written in and thus what specific leaders or events it decries, we know that Jeremiah lived during a period of intense social and religious upheaval. Amon, an idolatrous king who reigned during a period of unchecked foreign acculturation, was assassinated, and his son Josiah implemented intense religious and cultural reforms, eradicating idolatry, destroying sites of idol worship, restoring the temple in Jerusalem, and removing foreign inculturation. 

However, Josiah’s reforms would end upon his death. He was followed as king by his son Jehoahaz, who only briefly reigned and then was dethroned by Egyptian political influence and forcibly removed to Egypt. Jehoiakim was installed as king, and he was beholden to external powers (Egypt and Babylon). Biblical and rabbinical sources document him as being incredibly violent, idolatrous, and unjust. Jeremiah’s life and ministry occurred during this time of dramatically shifting priorities that reflect a general milieu of intense religious and social conflict.

This passage is part of an extended discourse that utilizes legal rhetoric. The phrase “I will bring charges against” is utilized. This imagery evokes God resorting to a formal adjudication of the wrongs of God’s people. This passage allows us a theological glimpse of a wronged God who is seeking restitution.  

In Jeremiah 1:1–3, Jeremiah is situated as a member of the tribe of Benjamin who is connected to the very religious order that he decries in this passage and that he will exhort repeatedly throughout the book. Jeremiah here is speaking—at least in part—to his people, his tribe of priests, who have lost sight of God amid all their religious activity. 

The most interesting imagery to me in this passage is that of the water. It is one of the few positive attributions of God as the “living water.” There is some meaning to be explored here. The people are decried for digging cisterns, essentially storage areas for water, but those cisterns have cracked and can no longer hold water. It is interesting that this passage does not say they dug alternative wells, though cisterns can be used to collect water runoff. The passage seems to emphasize that they sought to create an infrastructure for water storage that would protect them from drought and need without attending to the actual water source. The passage is explicitly clear that the actual water source is God, the living water, but what might the cisterns represent? Do they symbolize a religious infrastructure or liturgical practices that have lost touch with God? 

Interesting comparisons as well are that cisterns are generally still, perhaps stagnant, while the spring of living water denotes movement and flow of water. Cisterns are not the source, and over time, they can age and deteriorate. If not attended to, they can no longer hold the very thing for which they were designed. There is significant potential meaning here, depending on how you interpret the symbolism of the cistern. 

Cisterns rely on a water source. They require constant care and upkeep to effectively store the water from the source. The abundance of water in cisterns can distract from the importance of the water source, leaving the community reliant on the cisterns rather than on the actual source of water. Do you think of the source of your water when you drink it? Every time I take a drink here in Chicagoland, it is Lake Michigan, but I am not always thinking about that. If cisterns represent religious infrastructure or liturgical practices that have lost touch with the source of living water, there is much room for interpretative play. 

It is also important to note that water imagery is not just religious but political in Jeremiah, as evidenced directly after this passage. The people of God are reminded that they won’t be able to use Egyptian or Babylonian water in Judah. The Egyptians and Babylonians won’t be able to replace the living water. These cisterns may not just be religious and liturgical. 

This pericope (verses 4–13) is structured in a way that renders less visible the misogynistic imagery underlying this entire text. You must look in front of the text, where God’s people are situated as “a bride” (verse 2), or after the text, where God’s people are “a prostitute” (verse 20 and following), and at several other misogynistic references. Similar imagery of the unfaithful wife is deployed at numerous points in Jeremiah and other Hebrew scriptures. 

Basic examination of the patriarchal religious and sociocultural context of Jeremiah reveals a stark gender inequality in which women were treated as subservient and severely limited in their human rights, even further revealing how deeply problematic this misogynistic image is. While not evident within the limits of this specific pericope, the literary and rhetorical deployment of God’s voice as the bearer of misogynistic imagery for God’s people situates this passage as deeply embedded in violent gender hierarchies of its day. 

As was stated earlier and bears repeating, in this passage we encounter a glimpse of a raw, frustrated God, expressing anger against God’s people. The misogynistic framing renders this angry God as a dominant actor in the world, who is abusive and violent. A question each preacher using this passage will face is whether to address this head-on or to leave it unaddressed, perhaps hoping the congregation has never read nor will they find the explicit misogyny in the immediate scriptural vicinity of this text during the worship service or the coming week. 

This is a very serious choice for several reasons. First, patriarchal imagery in the scriptures can be correlated to misogyny today, and the avoidance of harm requires the use of new, life-giving imagery. Second, this misogynist context renders this text as a deeply shame-based, dominant image of God speaking. This is not just God calling God’s children to account. This is God situated as the dominant social location of male and husband, and God’s children in an unjust position of inferiority and subservience to God. This is the dominant God berating and abusing. When this passage is read through that lens of a misogynistic God shaming “his” bride using misogynistic stereotypes for women, then it also functions to render God violent for women and queer persons today. 

One of the most important and advanced skills my preaching students can develop is the ability to contest and disagree with biblical texts, and Jeremiah requires contesting if you do not wish to endorse a theology of a dominant and abusive God. Disagreeing with and contesting the biblical text can open up for us an understanding of God that differentiates the possibilities of who God is from the deeply human and sociocultural limitations of theology. Disagreeing with the theology of Jeremiah here may open up the possibility for you and all persons in your congregation to encounter an image of God who is sometimes raw, frustrated, or angry with God’s people in ways that can still be deeply relational, healthy, just, and life-giving.

What do people want from life? 

When asked, a lot of us will say something like “Happiness.” 

But how do we get happiness?

For many people, in ancient Israel and today, the key to happiness—or so they believe—is the acquisition of what Psalm 112 calls “wealth and riches” (verse 3). 

But this sort of thinking, though it may be partly right, is also dangerously wrong. 

Although for some (like the ancient Stoics), “virtue is its own reward,” for the rest of us, to be happy or to live well as human beings, some level of material well-being is necessary. But how much is enough? How much “wealth and riches” will suffice? (In)famously, when oil tycoon John D. Rockefeller was asked how much money was enough, he replied, “One dollar more.” It sounds as if Rockefeller’s desire for riches was insatiable—perhaps because he believed riches were the key to his happiness. 

Ancient moral traditions have long recognized that humans often tend to think and act like Rockefeller. 

We desire, and so value, some things too much—whether wealth, power, pleasure, social status, or something else—believing that attainment of these things is most important for our flourishing, what the ancient Greeks called eudaimonia. And although, as was hinted, some level of material well-being certainly can contribute to our happiness—and to some extent may even be necessary for us (it’s hard for anyone to flourish in abject poverty)—it is not sufficient. But many people seem not to understand this ancient truth and so pursue and strive to hold onto riches (and those other things we think will make us happy), if not at all costs, then inordinately so—more than we should.

A close reading of Psalm 112, however, points to the fact that not wealth and riches—or, for that matter, anything else—but rather virtue is indispensable to happiness. Most important in this regard, the psalm suggests, is to “fear the LORD” (verse 1)—a posture of reverence and acceptance of the divine—and to practice “righteousness” (verses 3, 4, 6, 9). The sorts of people who possess these broad virtues, the text says, are those who “delight” in following divine instruction (verse 2) and who are “gracious [and] merciful” (verse 4). They are generous, and they live by justice (verse 5). Unlike many people, the virtuous are not characterized by the pursuit and preservation of their wealth, but are recognized by how they give it away, generously supporting the poor and those in need (verse 9). 

Through their everyday lives of virtue, the characters (or moral dispositions) of the sorts of virtuous people Psalm 112 imagines have become settled. Consequently, they do not flinch in the face of challenges to their way of life, but continue in their virtue. They are “not afraid” of what comes (verse 7), and “their hearts are steady” (verse 8). But only those who daily “practice” such virtue reach that moral plateau. 

These are arresting perspectives that Psalm 112 offers. And in Ordinary Time, when we seek to grow and mature in our faith by reflection on the life of Jesus, the psalm can lead us to consider some of the Nazarene’s own remarkable teachings on similar themes (for example, “The Rich Young Ruler” in Mark 10:17–24; Matthew 19:16–30; Luke 18:18–30).

Psalm 112 also quite strikingly claims that the virtuous—those who fear the Lord; the righteous—will also experience well-being. Their houses will be full of “wealth and riches” (verse 3); it will be “well” with them (verse 5).

But we know better, don’t we? We know that the just, the faithful, the best Christians among us sometimes—too often, really—fall victim to disease, financial struggles, or the greed, ambition, or carelessness of others. As a result, they suffer in body, spirit, and mind. 

Is the scripture wrong, then, with its promises of wealth and well-being to those who choose to travel a morally upright way? The answer may depend on what we understand the text’s claims actually to be.   

It may be that the rhetoric of prosperity and well-being in Psalm 112 and texts like it, in pointing us to virtue as the indispensable ingredient for human well-being and happiness, is not making a literal promise to those who “behave properly.” Instead, its language of “reward” may be encouraging us to pursue what is of most value in human life, just as robustly as Rockefeller and those of his ilk have pursued the next dollar. It exhorts us to be voracious for the “true,” or genuine—even if not literal—“riches and wealth” of virtue—a way of life that can produce authentic thriving for humans. 

Indeed, it is worth noting that the virtues and way of life the psalm promotes, and which constitute “true wealth,” are other-directed qualities. Implied in all this is the idea that humans are naturally social beings. The character traits the psalm speaks of represent the sorts of dispositions we all need in order to live well—in community. Saint Francis understood this. He, of course, famously prayed that key Christian virtues be exhibited in his life:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.

But the man from Assisi asked not only for the most well-known of Christian virtues—love, faith, peace, hope. He explicitly asked the Divine to help him live a life focused on others too:

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Hebrews 13, and especially Hebrews 13:1–8, contains several exhortations or encouragements from the author of Hebrews. They move quickly: Do this, don’t do that, do this too, and so on. For us, this style may be confusing—and overwhelming!—but the original addressees of Hebrews likely were used to this way of learning ethics since it mirrors the style found in many other Greek and Roman works.¹

These instructions begin by encouraging rather general principles of love and hospitality within the community. The first is to “let mutual love continue” (13:1). “Mutual love” translates the Greek word philadelphia, which refers to love among siblings (literally, “brothers”). This is likely an encouragement to love those within the Christian community itself; however, the author quickly expands the scope with the next exhortation: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers” (13:2a).

Hospitality is love and care that is particularly tangible—providing meals and lodging, as well as extending welcome within families and communities. And this is hospitality to strangers. The reason the author gives for this hospitality is that “some have entertained angels without knowing it” (13:2b). Hearing this, the addressees might think of stories about Abraham and Lot hosting angels in Genesis 18–19, or Tobit hosting Azariah, the angel Raphael in disguise (for example, Tobit 5:4–8), or Philemon and Baucis hosting Zeus from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, among many others.

The next thing the author encourages them to do is to “remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them, those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured” (13:3). Those incarcerated were subject to harsh conditions—such as low light that often led to blindness or other severe visual impairment, and restraints that kept people in the same position for so long that they were no longer able to walk.

The author calls the addressees to extend empathy to them, which may be out of a desire to cultivate hospitality to them as well. Those incarcerated in particular typically could not survive without the support of someone on the outside. They were barely fed (if at all). But the author also extends this empathy to others being tortured (or “mistreated”), such as the enslaved and those harmed by the state (10:32–36).

Marriage is the author’s next topic. He encourages them all to honor marriage. This may reflect a more reciprocal view of marriage than was present in the culture at that time. Women and men often were held to different standards of sexual fidelity to their spouses.

Then the author turns to money. They must “keep [their] lives free from the love of money, and be content with what [they] have” (13:5a). This coheres with the teaching of the author above. Love, hospitality, and care for the incarcerated are costly. If you love money more than you love people, then you will have a difficult time adhering to the teaching of Hebrews 13.

They can be content with what they have because God will care for them. The author of Hebrews presents God speaking these words as confirmation of God’s commitment: “I will never leave you or forsake you” (13:5b). This fits with the author’s consistent depiction of Scripture as God’s speech.² And yet his last quotation is something new. “We” speak back to God: “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can anyone do to me?” (13:6). This is an expression of trust in God’s provision.

The next exhortation is to “remember [their] leaders” (13:7a). Since the author describes these as those who “spoke the word of God to [them]” (13:7b), which probably refers to their initial hearing of the gospel, many interpreters think this is a reference to former leaders, specifically those who have died. (This also differentiates this verse from 13:17.) The people should “consider the outcome of [the leaders’] way of life, and imitate their faith” (13:7c).

Perhaps like the leaders who, as those to be imitated, were probably steadfast and constant, “Jesus Christ [also] is the same yesterday and today and forever” (13:8). This verse probably recalls other teachings by the author of Hebrews about Jesus, especially that, unlike creation, he “remains the same and his years will have no end” (for example, Hebrews 1:10–12).

The lectionary text for this week does not include Hebrews 13:9–14 and instead skips ahead to 13:15–16. The author calls the people to “continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that confess his name” (13:15). The phrase “sacrifice of praise” is the same Greek phrase used in the Septuagint (the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures) for the praise or well-being offering. This was an offering given to God as a recognition of his mighty work. With those offerings, people would express their thanksgiving verbally. This explains the author’s comment that the praise offering is the “fruit of lips that confess his name.”

Most interpreters do not think that the author has a literal praise offering in mind but that he intends to encourage a metaphorical participation in these practices. This coheres with the next verse, which says that “doing good” and “sharing what [they] have” are sacrifices pleasing to God (13:16).

Notes

1. James W. Thompson, “Hellenistic Ethics in Hebrews 13:1–6,” in Son, Sacrifice, and Great Shepherd: Studies on the Epistle to the Hebrews, ed. David M. Moffitt and Eric F. Mason, WUNT II 510 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2020), 219–31.
2. Madison N. Pierce, Divine Discourse in the Epistle to the Hebrews: The Recontextualization of Spoken Quotations of Scripture, SNTSMS 178 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020).