Luke 17:1-10
A Little Faith
James Sledge October
2, 2022
As many of you know, the scripture
passages that I use for preaching normally come from
the lectionary, a list of
readings for each Sunday that includes an Old Testament passage, a psalm, an
epistle reading, and a gospel reading. The lectionary follows the Christian
year, beginning with Advent, and it has a three-year cycle. Year one feature’s
Matthew’s gospel, year two Mark, and year three, which we’re in now, Luke.
John’s gospel doesn’t get a year but gets interspersed here and there in all
three years.
The lectionary that I follow is used by pastors in many Protestant denominations. Its full name is the Revised Common Lectionary which replaced a previous, common lectionary in 1983. The revision was done by a committee of scholars and denominational representatives from the US and Canada, but I don’t know much about how they pick certain texts or how they decide where a reading should start and end.
I mention this because today’s gospel passage seems to start in the middle of a conversation. I told you when I read the passage that I expanded the lectionary limits, going back five verses prior to where the lectionary actually starts. Had I simply followed the lectionary, our gospel reading would have begun, The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith!"
Increase our faith! Perhaps you’ve had occasion to offer a similar exclamation. Increase my faith! I know that I have. If you’ve ever made that request, what was it that prompted it? Perhaps you were having some sort of faith crisis, or perhaps you were going through some sort of difficult time. But it seems likely that something would precipitate crying out so.
That’s true of the disciples in our reading for today, which is why I added the five verses before the start of the lectionary passage. The disciples aren’t simply asking for stronger faith. They are reacting to what Jesus tells the to do, worried that they won’t be able to do it.
And Jesus’ spectacular example of telling a mulberry tree to uproot itself is not a promise that the faithful can do neat tricks. It is a hyperbolic illustration meant to tell the disciples that even a small grain of faith is enough to do all that Jesus commands.
It’s probably worthwhile to go back and examine what it is that gets the disciples so worried that their faith isn’t enough from the part of the passage the lectionary leaves out. There are two things Jesus says that may have set the disciples on edge. The first is about not causing “little ones” to stumble. “Little ones” refers to people who are new to the faith, who have just recently decided to follow Jesus. Clearly Jesus expects the disciples, and presumably all people who are seasoned disciples, to be very concerned about new members, to go out of their way not to create any difficulties for them.
The second issue deals with followers who sin, who act in ways that are contrary to the way of Jesus. Here Jesus commands two related actions. They must “rebuke” these disciples, must act to correct their behavior. And if the rebuke elicits changed behavior, they must forgive the person, must embrace them as members of the community, even if this were to happen seven times in a single day.
It is at this point that the disciples plead for more faith, so my guess is it’s this double-edged command to rebuke and forgive that has troubled the disciples. I wonder which part of the command worries them the most, the forgiving over and over or the rebuking.
_______________________________________________________________________
In the Presbyterian Book of Order, the section on the Session’s responsibilities includes this one; “…reviewing the roll of active members at least annually and counseling those who have neglected the responsibilities of membership,” and another, “…warning and bearing witness against error in doctrine and immorality in practice within the congregation and community…”[1]
I can just hear some elders saying to themselves, “I didn’t sign up for that,” and the truth is that I’ve never known of a Session that actually did much of this. I think that is in large part because modern Americans have made faith into a personal, private matter, but I suspect that it’s also because the very idea sounds scary, difficult, fraught with potential pitfalls. “Increase our faith!”
“You already have enough faith,” says Jesus. “A little will more than do.” But then Jesus goes and ruins everything with his image of a slave – or a servant; it can be translated either way – who is owed no praise for doing their job. “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!”
That seems awfully harsh. But then again, I don’t think Jesus is recommending this as the way to talk to volunteers who’ve put in long hours at Welcome Table or the Back to School Bash. In fact, I think Jesus means his words to be encouraging.
I’ve mentioned before that the culture Jesus lived in loved hyperbole, and so illustrations in stories or parables were often over the top. I think that’s happening here, that Jesus’ words mean to communicate that what he asks of his disciples is not something spectacular requiring superhuman effort. “What I ask of you as disciples is so run of the mill, so mundane, that it’s hardly worthy of note or praise,” Jesus seems to say. “Even the smallest amount of faith empowers you to do all I ask with ease.”
Clearly those original disciples didn’t see that as the case when they cried out, “Increase our faith!” And many of Jesus’ commands seem far from easy or mundane. Love your enemy. Correct the wrongdoer but forgive them over and over. Deny yourself and be willing to give up what you have. None of that sounds run of the mill or mundane.
But I wonder if that isn’t because we imagine that we are asked to do such things on our own. In most any church I’ve ever been a part of, when someone suggested a new project, when someone was excited about a big, new mission activity they thought the church should undertake, the discussion that followed often proceeded as though the effort were entirely dependent on the members. The calculations about whether or not the project was doable didn’t factor in anything other than the resources the church had at hand, the potential volunteers, the available funds, etc.
Almost never did the divine enter the equation. No talk about the power of God to do far more than all we can ask or imagine, no expectation that the Holy Spirit added more than the resources we had on our own, no thought that Jesus would be with us when we answered his call.
If we imagine that we are entirely on our own in trying to follow Jesus, that isn’t little faith. That is no faith, no expectation that we could do what Jesus asks, that we could scrounge up a few more volunteers and a few more dollars to do something new, never mind uprooting a mulberry tree and planting it in the sea.
But Jesus says that the tiniest amount of faith is enough to make the most daunting call easy and routine. Could that possibly be true? And if it is, what incredible ministry might we do if we trusted Jesus just a little?
No comments:
Post a Comment