Jesus, the Mighty Mustard Seed of God
October 2, 2022
Fr. Tom Seitz, Jr.
Jesus, the Mighty Mustard Seed of God
I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you.
Timothy, a second-generation apostle, is no different than the first generation of apostles, who, as we learn in today’s gospel, are afraid they don’t have enough faith to get the job done. Both Paul and Jesus are reassuring each of them, “You have what it takes. I have given you the gift of faith. Your faith is like a mustard seed. It may be small now, but if you act on it, if you plant it in your present circumstances, by what you say or what you do, no matter how insignificant your words and deeds may appear to be, and no matter how large the obstacles in the path that God has set before you, your faith has the power to move mountains.”
Paul reminds Timothy that he received his gift of faith from his grandmother and mother, long before he realized what a powerful and precious gift it was. He was once a child of faith like the children you may have brought to church this morning.
If your children don’t know who or why you chose the people of faith you chose to be their godparents, tell them why after church.
I remember asking my parents about my godparents. Charles Devant was the doctor who delivered me. G.K. Moose was a local pharmacist and a member of dad’s first vestry. Lyda Harris was one of mom’s faithful friends and a fellow mother in her new church family.
I’m sure mom and dad chose them because they recognized them as people of faith, people who would model their faith as much for the benefit my parent’s faith as for mine. We moved away from them when I was only three years old, so I never got to appreciate their faith, except for Lyda, who would send me a card at Christmas with a five-dollar bill inside. Mom would always take that opportunity to explain that Lyda was my godmother, my very own special person of faith, who was continuing to pray that I would grow up to become a man of faith too.
As I grew, other people of faith took their places as unofficial and honorary godparents who strengthened my faith so that it could sink deeper and deeper roots within me and grow taller in the stature of Christ from the humble beginnings of a mustard seed to the point where I became mature enough to be transplanted from the nursery of my family and faithful into the soil of adulthood through the rite of confirmation and ordination, from boarding school to college to seminary, to my first job and my marriage. Paul had done the very same thing in the case of Timothy, and as a bishop did for many if not all of you, laying hands on you to confirm and strengthen your faith for God’s calling on your life, wherever that may lead.
Paul’s second letter to Timothy was the last letter he ever wrote. It represents the crisis of faith that often occurs when we face the inevitable loss of those who planted and nourished our faith in the past. This was true of Timothy, who understood that Paul’s imprisonment in Rome by the emperor Nero would soon end in his martyrdom, his second legal appeal for release having been rejected because the emperor needed a prominent scapegoat to quiet the Roman mob which was otherwise inclined to blame the emperor himself for the recent fire in Rome that had devasted two-thirds of the city.
Paul wrote to Timothy to encourage him to be bold and courageous in propagating the faith in his own generation, to recognize that every disciple must be prepared to suffer for the faith and the flock and the succeeding generation of leaders, trusting that the life-giving power of faith will prevail in the end, though that faith begins as small as a mustard seed. Paul had been unjustly accused of fomenting insurrection by a handful of Jews in Jerusalem, who falsely accused him of bringing an uncircumcised gentile into the sacred precincts of the temple reserved for Jews, just as Jesus had been unjustly condemned and crucified. But Paul reminded Timothy that God has the power to bring good out of evil, that this was at the very heart of our faith in Christ and in God’s mysterious and wonderful purposes, like the mysterious and wonderful power of a tiny mustard seed with the potential of turning the entire world upside down.
We often lose sight of the power of our faith because it’s power normally reveals itself slowly. Sixteen years ago three small oak trees were planted on my property. They now dwarf my house. I must prune those trees every year to keep them from blocking my street or threatening my roof. They haven’t moved a mountain, but the one in front is probably responsible for pushing up a very heavy section of the sidewalk that leads to my front door just enough so that I will have to have the leading edge of that concrete shaved to prevent someone from tripping, falling and injuring themselves.
The same is true in the realm of God’s kingdom. It’s only in hindsight that we recognize how much our faith has transformed our lives and the lives of those around us. I’ve been a part of this parish for twenty-five years, but that’s only one-fourth of its total life, and a miniscule portion of the history of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic church to which we are heirs. And just like Timothy, each of us has had to move forward in faith even as we suffer the loss of those whose faith encouraged us for one or more generations.
I give thanks to God for the faith that continues to grow and blossom among all of you, both those I have known for many years as well as those who are new to the life of this parish, whose names I am learning and whose stories of faith I look forward to hearing. Witnessing that growing faith is a great comfort to me, just as Timothy’s faith, even when it was faltering a bit, must have been reassuring for Paul, and as the faith of the apostles faltered and then flowered following the death and resurrection of Jesus. We can even think of Jesus as that humble mustard seed who nonetheless embodied God himself, whose life-giving and world-changing potential was unleashed through his death and resurrection. Jesus was very Son of God, the ultimate example of faith in his heavenly Father, who bore the weight of sin and death for our sakes, and not for any reason of his own other than his love for you and me.
Thanks be to God! We have all the faith we need to extend the kingdom of God in our own generation. Let us be about God’s business. Amen.
Paul reminds Timothy that he received his gift of faith from his grandmother and mother, long before he realized what a powerful and precious gift it was. He was once a child of faith like the children you may have brought to church this morning.
If your children don’t know who or why you chose the people of faith you chose to be their godparents, tell them why after church.
I remember asking my parents about my godparents. Charles Devant was the doctor who delivered me. G.K. Moose was a local pharmacist and a member of dad’s first vestry. Lyda Harris was one of mom’s faithful friends and a fellow mother in her new church family.
I’m sure mom and dad chose them because they recognized them as people of faith, people who would model their faith as much for the benefit my parent’s faith as for mine. We moved away from them when I was only three years old, so I never got to appreciate their faith, except for Lyda, who would send me a card at Christmas with a five-dollar bill inside. Mom would always take that opportunity to explain that Lyda was my godmother, my very own special person of faith, who was continuing to pray that I would grow up to become a man of faith too.
As I grew, other people of faith took their places as unofficial and honorary godparents who strengthened my faith so that it could sink deeper and deeper roots within me and grow taller in the stature of Christ from the humble beginnings of a mustard seed to the point where I became mature enough to be transplanted from the nursery of my family and faithful into the soil of adulthood through the rite of confirmation and ordination, from boarding school to college to seminary, to my first job and my marriage. Paul had done the very same thing in the case of Timothy, and as a bishop did for many if not all of you, laying hands on you to confirm and strengthen your faith for God’s calling on your life, wherever that may lead.
Paul’s second letter to Timothy was the last letter he ever wrote. It represents the crisis of faith that often occurs when we face the inevitable loss of those who planted and nourished our faith in the past. This was true of Timothy, who understood that Paul’s imprisonment in Rome by the emperor Nero would soon end in his martyrdom, his second legal appeal for release having been rejected because the emperor needed a prominent scapegoat to quiet the Roman mob which was otherwise inclined to blame the emperor himself for the recent fire in Rome that had devasted two-thirds of the city.
Paul wrote to Timothy to encourage him to be bold and courageous in propagating the faith in his own generation, to recognize that every disciple must be prepared to suffer for the faith and the flock and the succeeding generation of leaders, trusting that the life-giving power of faith will prevail in the end, though that faith begins as small as a mustard seed. Paul had been unjustly accused of fomenting insurrection by a handful of Jews in Jerusalem, who falsely accused him of bringing an uncircumcised gentile into the sacred precincts of the temple reserved for Jews, just as Jesus had been unjustly condemned and crucified. But Paul reminded Timothy that God has the power to bring good out of evil, that this was at the very heart of our faith in Christ and in God’s mysterious and wonderful purposes, like the mysterious and wonderful power of a tiny mustard seed with the potential of turning the entire world upside down.
We often lose sight of the power of our faith because it’s power normally reveals itself slowly. Sixteen years ago three small oak trees were planted on my property. They now dwarf my house. I must prune those trees every year to keep them from blocking my street or threatening my roof. They haven’t moved a mountain, but the one in front is probably responsible for pushing up a very heavy section of the sidewalk that leads to my front door just enough so that I will have to have the leading edge of that concrete shaved to prevent someone from tripping, falling and injuring themselves.
The same is true in the realm of God’s kingdom. It’s only in hindsight that we recognize how much our faith has transformed our lives and the lives of those around us. I’ve been a part of this parish for twenty-five years, but that’s only one-fourth of its total life, and a miniscule portion of the history of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic church to which we are heirs. And just like Timothy, each of us has had to move forward in faith even as we suffer the loss of those whose faith encouraged us for one or more generations.
I give thanks to God for the faith that continues to grow and blossom among all of you, both those I have known for many years as well as those who are new to the life of this parish, whose names I am learning and whose stories of faith I look forward to hearing. Witnessing that growing faith is a great comfort to me, just as Timothy’s faith, even when it was faltering a bit, must have been reassuring for Paul, and as the faith of the apostles faltered and then flowered following the death and resurrection of Jesus. We can even think of Jesus as that humble mustard seed who nonetheless embodied God himself, whose life-giving and world-changing potential was unleashed through his death and resurrection. Jesus was very Son of God, the ultimate example of faith in his heavenly Father, who bore the weight of sin and death for our sakes, and not for any reason of his own other than his love for you and me.
Thanks be to God! We have all the faith we need to extend the kingdom of God in our own generation. Let us be about God’s business. Amen.