Sermon for the Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

October 7, 2007

Habakkuk 1:1–4; 2:1–4
Psalm 37:1–9
2 Timothy 1:1–14
Luke 17:5–10
Proper 22
Lectionary 27
Year C
I.N.I. (In the name of Jesus)


The apostles said to the Lord, “increase our faith!” The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted into the sea,’ and it would obey you.”


I suppose it doesn’t matter that I don’t like mustard, you know the yellow or brown stuff that is supposed to go with hot dogs or bratwurst. I’m a pretty strict ketchup eater, to tell you the truth.

I am intrigued, however, with little things. On a trip to mid-coast Maine years ago, our family took the ferry to Monhegan Island in search of fairy houses. While on that island in the middle of the Atlantic, we got lost in a Lilliputian-like woods while encountering all sorts of exquisite miniature dwelling places, made out of rocks, moss, and twigs, all just the right size for fairies. We even created one ourselves.

And about four years ago when car shopping, Kari and I took a test drive in a Mini Cooper, the little two-seater with a lot of zip. It was a lot of fun.

When I was growing up, one of my favorite cartoons was an unlikely superhero who sang “Here I come, to save the day.” He was Mighty Mouse.

Today we are being asked through the sayings of Jesus to own up to a little faith, as if having a little faith will get you a long way.

This seems to be an enormous challenge to those who measure faith by the strength of conviction, as if sheer volumes religious fervor and feeling will give you the power to move heaven and earth.

I think there are people out there who subscribe to that notion, and who stand by it, but I would suspect that there are few in these circles here, meek and mild New England Lutherans that we are, who would confess to it.

Lutherans know that it is faith that saves us from utter misery, although we may be unsure of how to talk about it or how to apply it.

Being Lutheran, however tinny (or tiny) it sounds, means that we could get a little excited as Habbakuk concludes, “the righteous live by their faith.”

When I was younger, I used to pray more than anything else that I would find wisdom. I worried about saying just the right thing. I worried that I would be asked a question, by a teacher, by a parishioner, and that I wouldn’t have anything to say. I likened myself to King Solomon who when told by God he could ask for anything, he chose wisdom. I wanted to be like Solomon.

And I think I still do. But I also think that not saying anything at all can be worse than saying something, even if it comes out less than perfect. I think that being frozen or consumed by being correct may just sell myself short.

In a way, my prayer for wisdom, “increase my wisdom,” may just be like the disciples of Jesus crying out “increase my faith!”

We look out at the world around us and feel like it is caving in. We see nations with despots in power and throw up out hands. We look at the problems in our family, our seeming lack of ability, and feel really small.

We could throw up our hands and throw in the towel. Or we could realize the strength of a little faith.

The giants of faith in the Bible, Abraham, Moses, Elijah were not without their misgivings. In the book of Geneses, Abraham made Sarah lie about being his wife so that they would not be persecuted by a foreign king. In Exodus, Moses protested when God told him to go back to Egypt because he was lacking in speech. And in First Kings, Elijah crawled into a cave when Queen Jezebel was after him and said he was ready to die. But in the end, they picked themselves up and plodded ahead.

Novelist Doris Bett’s asserts that faith is “not synonymous with certainty…[but] is the decision to keep your eyes open.” We are better off being attentive to the little things that elicit both prayer and action, than to niggle with all that’s wrong in the world as an excuse for inaction and complaining.

Esther Nelson was a scraggly-faced widow from West Rutland, Vermont. She drove a boat of a car, a mustard-colored Coup de Ville. She herself was a will of a wisp short and thin, and more than many, certainly more than some, was the backbone of my little church. Esther would volunteer each week in the Fall with the group making crafts for the annual Holiday Bazaar. Esther used to provide me with an annual supply of watermelon rind pickles that she canned and stored in her root cellar. Esther used to have a wide range of concern, whether it was over her brother Eddie or her sister Ellen, her cousin Raymond, or my very young children. Esther had a knack of phoning me at home during inopportune moments, like at dinner, with a little question about how many pastors were coming to Bible Study tomorrow (because she was serving coffee cakes with Millie Layn), like to ask how I thought Ray Ravenna was doing (because he was a diabetic and walked with two prosthetic legs). She was the type of person that just when I thought we were done chatting, and I could get back to wiping the faces of my toddler children, and hung up the phone, then it would ring again, and it was Esther. “And one more thing, do you think it would be all right if I brought blueberry muffins?”

One Christmas morning, the phone rang at breakfast, and it was guess who: Esther! What did she want this time? “Merry Christmas, that’s all!”

Esther made her little faith, in prayer and in action, go a long way. When the plea came out for assistance with a church project, and Esther no longer drove her big boat, she would say “I’ll do it if someone can drive me.” When the plea came for help with a church mailing, Esther said, “I’ll do it, but I can’t see so well.” Though she couldn’t drive, through her eyesight was dimmed, still Esther Nelson’s faith was not brimming with certainty, but she did make the decision to keep her eyes open.

When I think of a person of faith, I remember Esther Nelson not for her strength of conviction, but her attentiveness to small things. And I loved her for it.

Here at Christ the King, there are hundreds of small actions that are being done from week to week that of themselves don’t count for much. Someone new to CtK is putting weekly events into the newspaper. A few others are puzzling through how to get a new sign out on Broad Street. Six young people have been meeting to pour through the Bible to find out how God’s Holy Spirit is depicted, in order to understand their own upcoming confirmation. Regularly each month, a team of about five move boxes of sand to surround a wooden cross and lay out candles so that ten or so might pray for those that lay on their hearts. Three or four compile the newsletter for mailing each month. A few Choirs rehearse for about an hour. Committees meet about once a month. Two or three people bake bread for communion. Twenty or so are gathering pledges for the annual CROP Walk. And so it goes. People do not do these things in order to gain attention, or to be thanked. They do it because their faith prompts them. They do it because in their heart of hearts they recognize that Jesus Christ is a gift to them and to others around them, even if they do not put it into words as lofty and impassioned as Paul writes to Timothy: This grace was given to us in Christ Jesus before the ages began, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.

All around the world, people of faith who call themselves Lutherans make an impact on the lives of others as they respond to Jesus in their lives. In just about one month, at the Lutheran World Federation campus in Jerusalem there will be focus not on mustard trees, or sycamore trees, but olive trees. Harvesting little olives, squeezing oil out of them, and putting them into bottles will contribute to the food service program at Augusta Victoria Hospital, known for its specialty treatment for Palestinians, particularly cancer treatment and kidney dialysis. August Victoria also makes the oil available for sale, put in hand-blown Hebron glass, with the proceeds going to the Poor Fund. I happen to love olive oil, and am pleased that I have some from the Mount of Olives to use in my cooking, linking little old me to little old Lutherans on the other side of the world!

Together, as we live out our faith in Jesus, who breaks the bonds of oppression and fear, who calls the world into peace and new life, who offers himself as food for the hungry and rest for the weary, our little faith adds up to 66 million strong in the Lutheran World Federation. Little Lutherans become like Mighty Mouse, who share and live the good news with their eyes open! I think even Esther Nelson would be impressed.

I.N.I.

The Rev. Timothy J. Keyl, Pastor
Christ the King Lutheran Church
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