“That Christ may dwell by faith in your hearts; that being rooted and founded in charity, you may be able to comprehend…” (Eph 3:17–18)
“For every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.” (Lk 14:11)
On this Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost, the Church sets before us two readings that converge upon the central themes of humility and divine charity—a union of the inner and outer life, of contemplation and conduct. The epistle and the Gospel serve as a mirror in which we may discern both the grandeur of divine indwelling and the lowliness required to receive it.
I. “Rooted and Grounded in Charity” (Ephesians 3:13–21)
In this deeply mystical passage from the Epistle to the Ephesians, St. Paul prays that the faithful be “strengthened by his Spirit with might unto the inward man” and that Christ may dwell in them through faith. What is this inward man, and what does it mean for Christ to dwell within?
St. Augustine, commenting on the indwelling of Christ, teaches that “God does not dwell in the soul as in a place; rather, the soul becomes God’s dwelling through love.” (In Ioannem Tract. 102) Thus, being “rooted and grounded in charity” is not mere sentiment—it is the very condition for divine intimacy. The presence of Christ in the soul is the fruit of divine charity, which He Himself infuses.
St. Thomas Aquinas echoes this in his Commentary on Ephesians:
“To be strengthened with might in the inner man is to be confirmed in grace so that the soul becomes a stable dwelling place for Christ.”
Charity is the soil in which the soul must be rooted; humility is the posture that allows us to receive the divine guest. Indeed, one cannot understand the breadth and length and height and depth of the mystery of Christ without first kneeling—as St. Paul himself does in verse 14—“For this cause I bow my knees…”
II. “When thou art invited… take the lowest place” (Luke 14:1–11)
The Gospel takes us from the heights of contemplation to the humility of the banquet hall. Our Lord, observing the behavior of Pharisees at table, offers a parable on humility. He warns against the presumption of exalting oneself to places of honor and commands instead: “Go, sit down in the lowest place.”
The deeper sense of this parable is not about table manners, but the spiritual disposition necessary to receive grace.
As St. Cyril of Alexandria comments:
“The one who claims honors for himself receives no glory from God, but he who humbles himself—even if others do not notice—will be glorified by God.” (Commentarius in Lucam)
This is not merely a moral teaching but a revelation of divine economy. God raises the humble because only the humble can receive without pride. In the logic of the Gospel, exaltation is not seized—it is granted, and only to the one whose heart has been made empty by humility.
St. John Chrysostom sharpens the point:
“Do you desire to be great? Then begin by being little. Do you desire to build a great edifice? Think first about the foundation of humility.” (Hom. on Matthew, 67)
And is this not precisely what the Epistle calls for? That we be “rooted” (the organic image) and “grounded” (the architectural image) in love? Both require depth, not height. The soul must descend in order to rise.
III. Humility and Charity: The Twin Foundations
The wisdom of the Church in pairing these two readings for Dominica XVI Post Pentecosten is manifest. In the Epistle, we are shown the sublime goal: that Christ may dwell in us, that we may be filled “unto all the fullness of God” (Eph 3:19). In the Gospel, we are shown the necessary path: humility.
One cannot leap to the mystical heights of St. Paul without first descending to the humility of the lowest place. To be “filled with the fullness of God” requires the emptying of self, the kenosis that Christ Himself modeled. The humilitas Christi—that He, being in the form of God, humbled Himself (Phil 2:6–8)—becomes our blueprint.
Thus, in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass today, when we approach the altar, it is fitting to recall the words of the centurion: “Domine, non sum dignus.” We do not take the higher place; we receive what we are given. And what we are given is nothing less than Christ Himself.
IV. A Practical Application: The School of the Liturgy
The traditional liturgy of the Church, so deeply imbued with gestures of reverence and humility—the bowed head, the kneeling posture, the whispered Confiteor—forms us in this evangelical humility. The Latin Mass, in particular, with its sense of sacred mystery and hierarchical order, teaches us to be “little” before God.
This Sunday is a summons to rediscover that posture of humility—before God, before others, and within ourselves. Whether in our prayers, our service, or our interior life, we must take the lowest place that Christ may dwell in us and exalt us in due time.
Conclusion
Let us then imitate the Apostle in bowing the knee, praying that we may be strengthened with might in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in our hearts, and that we may know the love of Christ which surpasses all knowledge. And may we, like the humble guest in the Gospel, hear at the end:
“Friend, go up higher.”