Mustard seeds and the long work of faith

Sermon by Pr. Sharai Jacob on the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost + Saturday, October 4, 2025.

How many of us have ever prayed something like, “Lord, increase my faith”?
Not in the quiet moments when things are going well, but in the middle of chaos—
when the pain of the world feels overwhelming,
when forgiveness feels impossible,
when your soul is tired.

That’s the moment we find the disciples in today’s Gospel.
They cry out, “Increase our faith!”
And Jesus responds with what almost feels like a brush-off:
“If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.”

And then he launches into a strange little parable about a servant doing their duty and not expecting thanks.

It’s a difficult passage.

But stay with me, because when we listen closely—especially in the context of the full Gospel—there’s deep good news here.

At first glance, this passage feels… harsh.
The language of “unworthy slaves” is uncomfortable, especially for modern ears, and especially for those of us aware of the horrific legacy of slavery in our world.

Is Jesus telling us to just suck it up? To work harder? To forgive more? To stop complaining?

That seems out of step with the Jesus we know—
the one who says, “Come to me, all you who are weary,”
the one who touches lepers, blesses children, weeps with the grieving, and lifts up the lowly.

So what’s going on here?

Let’s look again.

The disciples ask, “Increase our faith!”

Jesus says: You don’t need more.
You need to use what you already have—even if it’s as small as a mustard seed.

You see, Jesus isn’t measuring the size of your faith.
He’s calling attention to its presence and its potential.

The mustard seed is tiny, yes—but it grows. It takes root. It endures.
And faith like that—persistent, rooted, even if small—can move mountains.
Or in this case, mulberry trees.

Then Jesus tells a parable about a servant who does their work without expecting applause.
And again, it sounds a bit cold—until we realize that Jesus isn’t endorsing this social structure, he’s using it to provoke a question.

He asks: Who among you would treat a servant differently?
It’s a rhetorical question.
Because in that world, no one would.

But we know the rest of the story, we know that there’s a twist at the end: no one would disrupt unjust hierarch… but Jesus would.

Because just a few chapters later in Luke’s gospel, Jesus gathers his disciples for a final meal.
They’re arguing about who’s the greatest, and he says:

“The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them… But not so with you.
Rather, the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves.
For who is greater, the one at the table or the one who serves?
Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.” (Luke 22:25–27)

Jesus flips the hierarchy.
Jesus is the Master who gets down on his knees to wash his disciples’ feet.
Jesus is the Lord who becomes a servant.
Jesus is the Son of God who lays down his life for the sake of the world.

So when Jesus tells the disciples to do their duty, to forgive, to keep showing up—it’s not because he’s a demanding master talking down to them.
It’s because he’s going first. On equal footing, he’s showing us the way.

This is what faith looks like:
Not ego, not applause, not reward—but humble, faithful service that persists even when it’s hard.

So what does this mean for us today?

It means that when you feel like your faith is too small to matter—it’s not.
It means that when the work of forgiveness feels exhausting—Jesus understands.
And it means that when the world tells you power comes from climbing higher, Jesus shows us the opposite—true power is found in service, in love, in faithfulness.

Your mustard-seed faith matters.
Especially when you forgive someone who doesn't deserve it.
When you keep showing up for a cause no one else notices.
When you choose love over bitterness.
When you care for someone who can’t give anything back.

That quiet, persistent faith - that’s how the kingdom of God grows.

So, what is Jesus calling us to today?

Not to work like slaves in the hope that Jesus will give us more power—but to live out the faith we already have, the faith that Jesus modeled for us.
To topple unjust systems, not by domination, but by serving.
To keep forgiving, keep hoping, keep planting seeds—mustard seeds—that will grow into something far bigger than we could imagine.

Take the climate crisis. Environmental injustice can feel overwhelming—too vast, too systemic, too late. It’s easy to feel small in the face of such global harm.
But we are not alone.
This issue is more widely understood than ever before. People are rising up, organizing, changing policies, protecting ecosystems. And we are not doing this work in isolation—creation itself is with us. The Earth, though wounded, is still working to heal and grow.

When we compost, when we plant, when we resist extraction and pollution, when we join with others in climate action—we are sowing mustard seeds. And they are taking root.

The Gaza Freedom Flotilla carried a group of 500 people from around the world, risking violent pushback to bring aid and demand justice for Palestinians.
Even though they were illegally detained, they remained committed. They didn’t just ferry food and medicine, they acted as a sign of hope—a way to push their governments to act against genocide. It seems that they even allowed Palestinians in Gaza an opportunity to fish while the Israeli Navy was preoccupied with stopping the flotilla.

Each participant brought their mustard seed of courage, compassion, and resistance—and together, their collective witness was powerful.

Closer to home, we’ve seen ICE raids in Chicago, just this week in the South Shore neighborhood. Black and Brown families were forcibly removed from their homes. Apartments destroyed. Lives upended. It was a violent show of state power, designed to make people feel small, helpless, and forgotten.
But that’s not the end of the story.

Our communities responded.
Neighborhood organizations have been running helplines.
Volunteers formed rapid response teams.

They offered legal support and solidarity.
They helped families locate their loved ones and fight for their return.
All these small acts—phone calls, donations, marches, translation, accompaniment—are mustard seeds.
And together, they are not weak. We are not small.
Together, we are growing into a strong and sturdy tree—a community rooted in faith, in justice, in love.

Friends, you may feel like your faith is so small.
But it is more than enough.

Because Jesus is the one who serves,
And the one who makes even the smallest seeds grow.

Amen.