“Mustard Seed Faith”
October 5, 2025
Rev. Rebecca Migliore
We’ve all heard of the parable of the mustard seed—such a small thing doing such big things! But most of us don’t really believe Jesus in this instance—even if you have the faith as small as a mustard seed, you can do the impossible. Really, Jesus? We can’t let go of our idea that to do amazing things, you need a lot of money, or a great intellect, or a boat-load of luck. In other words, something that we don’t have. To do those impossible things (like asking a mulberry tree to go plant itself in the sea), we need to be supermen or superwomen—super people!
And this is exactly what the disciples think. Jesus has just told them to do really hard things—like: “If the same person sins against you seven times a day and turns back to you seven times and says, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive.” Which of us thinks we would be capable of doing that? So the disciples say to Jesus—Increase our faith. Give us more. Pump us up. Make us super-sized!
And Jesus just shakes his head. You’ve got it all wrong. You don’t have to be anything other than what you are; you don’t have to use anything more than what you already have. You are enough to do amazing things. That is what the kin[g]dom of God is all about--Taking our God-given gifts and using them in our world.
I don’t think we often think about faith as a gift. We imagine that faithful people have worked hard (as if training for a marathon).
They have exercised their faith muscles—by praying, by reading Scripture, by doing small steps of good works, and building up to long stretches of “faith.” But if you think about that vision of faith—it puts a lot of emphasis on us. On what we have done, what we can accomplish. Do we think that if we work hard enough, then we can be faithful enough, and we can be worthy of God’s love?
That is all backwards! God loves us first. God gifts us with faith (some get a lot of faith, some get a little—just like the parable of the talents). The only question is: what are we going to do with our portion of faith? I know someone is going to say—you’re just making that up—where is that in the Bible?
Here’s my thinking. I start with Paul’s second letter to Timothy where he says, “I’m reminded of your faith—the faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois, and then in your mother Eunice, and now lives in you.” Is Paul suggesting that faith is genetic? That some of us are lucky enough that the gene is passed down to us—and maybe some of us are not? And almost as if Paul can hear our thoughts, he says, “rekindle the gift of God that is within you…Guard the good treasure entrusted to you.”
Rekindle the gift of God. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” God has put an ember of faith, a mustard seed, a potential, within each of us. And what do you do to rekindle an ember? You put fuel near to it, you fan the flames, you make sure you don’t smother it, you give it enough oxygen, and before you know it, that ember has created a fire.
Jesus has been talking a lot about good treasure in this center section of Luke—how we should amass treasure that will not rust, will not be eaten by moths, will not be stolen by thieves—but heavenly treasure.
Treasure like generosity (especially to the poor). Treasure like kindness. Treasure like loving God and loving neighbor. And now Jesus adds another bauble to our Heavenly Treasure box—faith. Not a faith that we have created, but a faith that has been given to us, entrusted to us, by God. It doesn’t matter the size of the faith—what matters is whether we safeguard it, whether we rekindle it, whether we put it to good use!
As the Franciscan friar and ecumenical teacher, Richard Rohr has written, “Then, when you can get little enough and naked enough and poor enough, you’ll find that the little place where you really are is ironically more than enough and is all that you need.”
Faith is a gift, given to us by God—freely given, like God’s love. Bestowed on us because we are precious in God’s sight, because God extravagantly scatters blessings like the farmer in the parable of the sower, gifts for everyone. So, Jesus wants to make sure that we get the idea that faith isn’t measured by size (the mustard seed). But he also wants to underline that this faith isn’t about us, and we shouldn’t expect a pat on the head or the back if we actually use it. Using it is our gracious response.
And that’s where we get to the second part of our reading. The part that makes us feel uncomfortable because it has that word slave in it. As I sat with this text this week, I had a sneaking suspicion that during the days of slavery in this country (those undeniable and disgusting days in our nation’s history)—slave owners could find comfort in these words of Jesus. He was talking about slaves as if they were just a part of the status quo—how it was.
And better yet, he was suggesting that the slaves weren’t supposed to think they would be praised for doing what they were supposed to do!
Let’s read that part again. “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me; put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded?”
See what I mean? But before we toss out this parable (for that is what it is), let’s try to see what Jesus is getting at. Just as Jesus uses everyday experiences—like fishing for people, or sowing seed, or putting yeast in bread, he also knows that people are aware of the social hierarchy of his world. He takes an example from the lower part of the hierarchy (not quite as low as Lazarus from last week) but still pretty far down. And he talks about expectations. Even after a hard day’s work, if you are on the lower end of the scale, you don’t get to rest when you come in the house—you are expected to first serve the master—and only then eat yourself.
It kind of reminds me of what happened during Covid. There were those “essential workers”—who still had to go to their jobs, regardless of the possibility of physical harm to them. They weren’t usually the highest paid workers. They were the ones who served—in the hospital, at food establishments, picking up the trash, and so forth. They were expected to do their job. And although we put signs out to say thank you, or went to the window to clang pots (if you lived in a city)—many of them did not get thanked.
And Jesus knows that is often the case. “Do you say thank you to the one who does what they are instructed to do?”
What is his point? That slavery is okay? That we don’t have to thank others when they serve us? Not at all. Jesus takes his finger and points it back at us. “So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’ ”
Think you understand this parable? He asks. Do you understand that it is about you? That you are the ones who are “in service” to God. That you shouldn’t expect God to reward you for doing what it is that you should be doing. In fact, you should acknowledge that anything you did was really only what you were supposed to do!
One word about the NRSV translation, “Worthless slave.” It gives a false impression that the slave is lower than the low (“we are not worthy” in Wayne’s World speak). Hear the Common English Translation which says, “We servants deserve no special praise. We have only done our duty.” So we arrive back at the point that when we respond to God’s love, when we respond to God’s gift of faith, when we act in our world with justice and mercy and walking humbly with God, “we deserve no special praise.” It is what is required. It is our “duty” (as we would say in some BBC movie). No gold medals. Not a standing ovation. Not even a thank you note.
So there is good news—we have all been given the treasure of faith. It doesn’t matter how big or how small. It matters that we keep it kindled, keep it alive, keep it burning inside us—and that we show it by acting in just, merciful and humble ways in our world.
Faith isn’t something we earn. Nor should we expect points for acting in faith, acting as if the kin[g]dom of heaven has come near.
Standing on the promises of God, standing fast in our faith, is just part of who we are as followers of Jesus.
And on this World Communion Day, we recognize that we are hand in hand with so many others around our world. Others who we may never see, never hear, never know—but who are gifted with their own mustard seeds of faith. Maybe together, we can blow a little more justice into this world, we can insist on a little more mercy for everyone, as we share our precious treasure of faith, in the company of our God, Amazing Grace and Awesome Love.
But how? And where? And to whom? I know I ask those questions. John Wesley answered those questions with: “Do all the good you can/By all the means you can/In all the ways you can/ In all the places you can/At all the times you can/To all the people you can/ As long as ever you can.” And if we don’t know where to begin, Richard Rohr has a suggestion: “…sitting in the silence [of prayer] until it silences us, choosing gratitude until we are grateful, and praising God until we ourselves are an act of praise.”
A Mustard Seed Faith.
Given to us.
Let it burn bright.
May it be so, Alleluia, Amen.