Sermon - Year C

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Recently, I came across a humorous skit on YouTube. It features a conversation between a primary school maths teacher named Ken and the headmaster. The headmaster enters an empty classroom and tries to speak with the teacher, who complains to the headmaster that the children have forgotten everything he taught them before the summer break, making him feel like he’s “talking Hungarian” when he tries to teach fractions. He sarcastically suggests the children visited a “memory wiping clinic” on holiday and amusingly fantasises about using such a place himself. The headmaster explains that they are different children each year; one group leaves in July, and a new group arrives in September, who “don’t know what you just spent the last year teaching to some completely different people.” Ken is shocked, thinking the small, noisy people who don’t know anything are always the same children who are simply getting older. He exclaims that he was led to believe at college he would teach children maths, and they “would be taught,” but now the headmaster is telling him he’ll keep teaching new groups of children. “I would never have agreed to that,” he says with a trembling voice. Then he momentarily switches to righteous anger and, with utter disbelief, he says: “The job is for me to carry on teaching children fractions until I’ve taught all the children in the world or I die, whichever happens first. How could you begin to pay me enough for such a task of Sisyphean futility?” “This is very much why I became a head teacher. I just do the admin now,” concludes the headteacher and the skit. It’s much funnier and better in its original form than I can describe, but I decided to share it because it fits perfectly with today’s gospel.

At first glance, it appears to consist of two disconnected parts. In the first one, in answer to the Apostles’ plea to increase their faith, Jesus told them, “If you had faith like a grain of mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea, and it would obey you.’” In the following part, he told his disciples not to expect gratitude, applause or relaxation for their hard work, but rather to carry on and remain humble: “when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’” However, the first impression of disconnection is incorrect. As always, we need a bit of context to get its meaning.

The development of what we now identify as the canonical gospels took place in the latter part of the first century AD. The initial Christian communities formed after Jesus’ death and resurrection held a firm belief that His second coming (or return) was imminent. As a result, they dedicated significant effort to preparing for this momentous event and spreading the Good News to the world, hoping to save as many as possible from the coming wrath of God. However, as years went by and Christians grew old without witnessing Jesus’ triumphant return, doubts and questions began to emerge, as testified by various passages in some of the New Testamental letters. This, together with the perception that the world around them remained stubbornly resistant to their message and sometimes openly hostile, led those tiny Christian communities scattered across the Mediterranean to question whether their efforts were futile. In that context, the specific teachings of Jesus were recalled to bolster their faith (part one) as well as their resolve (part two).

Of course, Jesus didn’t advocate using the power of faith for horticultural purposes. The mulberry tree, with its deep and extensive root system, was extremely difficult to uproot and remove, while the tiny mustard seed spreads like wildfire and is nearly impossible to eradicate. The disciples, facing seemingly insurmountable challenges in their unjust and violent world, can make a difference through their persistent, everyday service to those around them, even when they don’t see the immediate positive effects of their efforts. Over nearly 30 years, I’ve ministered in various ways to many people. On the surface, much of it has seemed futile. Children and teenagers disappeared from the parish soon after their First Communion or Confirmation; families after their child’s baptism; and young couples after their lavish weddings. My laboured sermons or teachings have seemingly had little impact on my audience’s attitudes, behaviours, or actions. Perhaps that’s why the despair of the maths teacher from the skit feels so familiar. I am sure many of you share a similar experience in your families or in your professional roles. In my case, every now and then, God allows me to see positive changes brought about by my ministry; enough to strengthen my resolve to keep calm and carry on, but not so much as to risk falling into complacency or self-congratulatory pride.

We can learn two things from today’s gospel. Everyone here has a role to play in our community as well as in broader society; some of us have more than one. We must fulfil those roles to the best of our abilities and capabilities; however, the motivation for doing so must go far beyond praise and rewards bestowed upon us by those around us or employers. St Paul put it into words beautifully: “Whatever your task, put yourselves into it, as done for the Lord and not for your masters, since you know that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward; you serve the Lord Christ.” (Colossians 3:23-24)


Image by Daniela Dimitrova from Pixabay