“If you had faith the size of a mustard seed,” we hear Jesus saying to the apostles, “you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”
Now, why would anyone want to do something as outrageous as that—tell some tree to go jump in the lake?
What do you suppose Jesus had in mind when he suggested such a thing?
Was he being sarcastic?
It’s possible.
He may have been suggesting that, given the current state of the disciples’ faith, the mulberry trees of the world had nothing to fear!
Of course, Jesus was actually responding to his followers’ rather breathless request: “Increase our faith!”
It may be significant that the writer of Luke’s Gospel identifies the individuals who made this request of Jesus as “apostles” instead of “disciples”.
Most of the time Luke talks about “the disciples”—Jesus’ students, his apprentices, his trainees.
But now and again, Jesus’ followers are called “apostles”, which means “ambassadors”, “representatives”—we might even say “missioners” or “missionaries”.
Since the disciples were apostles-in-training, Jesus may have been commenting on how much they still had to learn before they could be sent out to proclaim the Gospel on their own.
Or the disciples may have been hoping for a quick fix; if they only had a little more confidence, they could deal with whatever lay ahead.
Either way, as far as Jesus was concerned, the mulberry trees had nothing to worry about.
Or did Jesus sense that these would-be apostles were champing at the bit, secretly wishing that they could “throw their weight around” a bit, “make a big splash”, so to speak, that would impress people—that with a little more help from Jesus they would be able to do all kinds of signs and wonders.
If that is in fact the case, they must have felt awfully sheepish, when Jesus let them know in no uncertain terms how misguided he thought their aspirations were: that it wouldn’t take much faith at all to order some unsuspecting mulberry tree into the drink if that’s where their priorities lay.
But if they expected to have special privileges because they were followers of Jesus, they had better think 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 rather not 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? 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!”
Jesus’ words seem awfully brusque, but their meaning is crystal clear: Expect no reward beyond the satisfaction of knowing that you have done what God wanted you to do.
And all that the apostles needed to do what God wanted them to do was not more faith, but the courage to act on the faith that they already had.
But let’s not be too hard on the apostles.
After all, Jesus wasn’t; the remark he made about the mulberry tree wasn’t meant to crush them; it was intended to make them think more carefully; thinking that they needed more faith was an honest mistake.
Thinking that every problem could be solved if only we had more—it doesn’t have to be more faith; it can be more money, more power, more fame—thinking that all would be well if we only had more has always had its appeal.
Nearly every ounce of our culture is saturated with it.
If it isn’t the latest laborsaving device we’re just got to have, it’s the ultimate in entertainment technology we simply can’t do without.
If—God forbid!–we were to cave in totally to the barrage of words and images that pound our senses day after day, we would soon come to believe the lie that not having more makes us less than we are.
Against this blaring backdrop of unsubstantiated claims—a backdrop that already carries within it the seeds of deepest despair—the lone, but persistent voice of Jesus sounds in loving opposition: It is in the goodness of God that we must put our faith, and it is on that faith and that faith alone that we must act.
Of course, faith is such an abstract, overused term that the word “trust” may help us get closer to what it is that we are trying to define.
Among other things, trust—radical trust—means staking your life, your livelihood, your reputation, whatever, on something or someone.
Faith or trust in God, then, means staking your life, your livelihood, your reputation, whatever, on the goodness of God.
“Do you put your whole trust in [God’s] grace and love?” is one of the questions we will soon be asking little Charlie Knuth’s parents and godparents, who will answer “I do” for him, as we welcome him into the Body of Christ through the sacrament of Holy Baptism.
Think what it means when someone answers “I do” to a question like that.
Does it mean that whatever happens we will never stop believing that there is a God?
Well, I suppose so, but believing in God means a lot more than believing that God exists.
Believing, trusting in God means staking your life—all that you are and all that you have—on the ultimate goodness of God.
Somehow, not only are Dennis and Emily and Mike, Diane, and Rebecca being asked to speak for little Charlie—answer the questions, make the baptismal promises for him—because he is not yet old enough to speak for himself, but they are also taking on the responsibility of gradually teaching him to understand why this choice has been made for him.
Because it is an irrevocable choice: to be sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.
Fortunately, little Charlie’s parents and godparents don’t have to go it alone.
That’s where the rest of us come in.
That’s why, after the promise has been made that he will follow Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord, the rest of us will wholeheartedly agree to support little Charlie in his life in Christ.
By no means making an empty pledge, we will promise, in the name of this congregation, in the name of this diocese, in fact in the name of the Church universal, to provide this child with everything he needs to lead a faithful Christian life for the rest of his earthly days—loving care, patient guidance by word and example, opportunity to exercise his God-given gifts and skills in community, membership in the Body of Christ as it is nourished by God and seeks to nourish others in Word and Sacrament—in short, the grace-filled path of Christian nurture and formation.
Nor does the Church have to go it alone, as far as this business of Christian nurture and formation is concerned.
Continuing in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers, persevering in resisting evil, proclaiming by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, seeking and serving Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves, striving for justice and peace among all people and respecting the dignity of every human being—these blessed endeavors we propose to introduce little Charlie to are all accomplished with God’s help; we don’t have to do it all by ourselves.
And the process of Christian nurture has already begun.
Almost since the day he was born, little Charlie has been coming to church with Emily, Dennis, and Ellie, experiencing the sights and sounds of life in a congregation of faithful people, being blessed in our midst as we have been blessed by his presence, and now we joyfully claim for him this day the birthright that each and every one of us enjoys: that Charlie is not only, along with Ellie, Dennis’s and Emily’s child, but also, most important of all, a child of God, dearly beloved and eagerly awaited, our newest little brother in Christ.
Thanks be to God!
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