2 Kings 2: 1 – 12 and Matthew 17: 9 – 23
I wonder if you noticed the apparent contradiction in Jesus’ words about faith in our reading from Matthew’s Gospel this evening? Jesus tells the disciples they were unable to cure the epileptic because of their ‘little faith’, but goes on to tell them that “if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain “Move from here to there”, and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you” (Matthew 17:20).
The King James Version solves the contradiction by translating the ‘little faith’ as ‘unbelief’. The contrast therefore is not between different amounts of faith but between faith and the lack of it. Earlier in the Gospel that same ‘little faith’ is what causes Peter to start sinking after he has jumped out of the boat to walk on the water towards Jesus (Matthew 14:31). Here Peter seems to have acted with faith, but impulsively, and then succumbed to doubt. This is vividly illustrated in the way in which he then begins to sink beneath the water. A ‘little faith’ could perhaps be seen as one which is especially susceptible to doubt. The disciples were perhaps unable to heal the epileptic because they doubted the reality of the power and authority they had been given by Jesus.
The writer of the letter to the Hebrews described faith memorably and pithily as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). However, faith cannot be the same as certainty, and must therefore always be open to the possibility of doubt. But how do we distinguish between faith ‘the size of a mustard seed’ which has such potential and the ‘little faith’ for which Jesus rebukes the disciples and Peter in these incidents?
This is an important question because, however precarious it may sometimes seem, faith is the precondition which God has set for many of His actions in the world. Even Jesus was unable to accomplish much in His home town due to the unbelief of those who knew Him and dismissed Him as the carpenter they had known as a child (Matthew 13:58).
So what is at the root of the word ‘faith’?
The Greek word stem pistis which we translate ‘faith’ had a widespread meaning in secular classical antiquity of pledge or evidence, guarantee or warranty. It is a strong idea. We may perhaps think of faith as something slightly nebulous, our own subjective capacity for belief, but the Greek word, in origin, denotes something much more objective. Faith is a gift of God. As William Tyndale put it “Right faith is a thing wrought in us by the Holy Spirit.” But faith also includes our response to that gift. To illustrate this, think back to last year’s Christmas presents; some you may have received with pleasure and put straight to use, others may still be gathering dust, almost forgotten until you get around to deciding what to do with them. Perhaps one or two have already been passed on to someone else or the charity shop. Our faith is a gift meant to be put to use. It’s as if faith opens a crack in our shells to allow God to work in our lives and through us. It isn’t a matter of intellectual assent, but of practical reliance on a living God. It’s supposed to make a difference to the way we live our lives. We don’t have to have a lot of faith, only as much as a grain of mustard seed, but we do have to be prepared to accept the gift and to begin to rely on God.
This kind of risk-taking faith was exhibited supremely by Christ; He trusted His heavenly Father in all and despite all circumstances, even as far as the Cross. And even for Jesus there seems to have been a moment when He felt abandoned by God on the Cross. Our Stations of the Cross to be dedicated this evening will provide us with a particular opportunity to reflect on this.
My Christmas present analogy may be somewhat simplistic. For most of us, most of the time appropriating our faith is not that easy or quick; it takes a lifetime. Listen to this poem by R S Thomas:
Tidal
The waves run up the shore
and fall back. I run
up the approaches of God
and fall back. The breakers return
reaching a little further,
gnawing away at the main land.
They have done this thousands
of years, exposing little by little
the rock under the soil’s face.
I must imitate them only
in my return to the assault,
not in their violence. Dashing
my prayers at him will achieve
little other than the exposure
of the rock under the surface.
My returns must be made
on my knees. Let despair be known
as my ebb-tide; but let prayer
have its springs, too, brimming,
disarming him; discovering somewhere
among his fissures deposits of mercy
where trust may take root and grow.
For Thomas, the way to a rooted faith involves sustained prayer. Trust in God does not come easily, but there is the hope that it will take root and grow.
The mustard seed was proverbial for being very tiny, and yet growing into a large bush. We may feel, at times, that our faith is small indeed. But perhaps, in the end, looking at our faith is looking in the wrong place. The writer to the Hebrews advises us instead to look to Jesus, “the pioneer and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 11:2). The disciples continued to keep company with Jesus after His reproof for their lack of faith. Gradually, often painfully, they learned from His example and teaching; their faith in Him grew so that after His death they were able to form the leadership of the emerging Christian community. Peter stopped sinking in the water when he called out to Christ for help and took His outstretched hand. We cannot divorce our faith from Christ, the object of our faith. It is true for us too, that the more we keep company with Christ, the more we gaze on Him, the more our faith will grow. As I have already mentioned, our Stations of the Cross are one way of doing this as we enter into the season of Lent. Let us use them!
Amen.