A Homily for the Sixth Sunday after Epiphany

+ The striking comparison of the Kingdom of Heaven to a mere mustard seed has much to teach us—as our Lord most certainly intended. The radical disproportion between the size of this seed and the potential it holds within it is indeed the stuff of much contemplation and instruction.

​Some Fathers of the Church have regarded the mustard seed as Our Lord Himself, applying to this parable His teaching that “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (Jn 12:24) Others following the teaching: “If you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you,” (Mt 17:20) interpret the mustard seed as faith. It is the latter, proposed by St Ambrose, that I should like to ponder a little this morning.

For the gift of faith is sown in us at baptism, often when we are but infants with little perceptible effect. It must grow and be nourished and be protected from the dangers outlined in the earlier parable of the sower (Mt 13:1-9). As any Catholic parent knows only too well, the seed of faith is all too often devoured by predators in our world or choked by the insidious weeds and thorns that grow up alongside us. Faith requires good soil in which to germinate and grow, and this must be diligently cultivated and protected, most particularly in a world inimical to it.

A seedling takes many years to become a sapling, and a sapling takes more time still to flower and bear fruit. Much nourishment, training and even pruning is necessary before a well-rooted tree stand firms, grows independently and itself bears fruit—something well understood by novice masters as well as parents.

But even saplings can flower, and the fruit of faith alive and growing in a young person is something of true beauty, even if it is sometimes dismissed for its apparent lack of maturity. Yet how many saints have made heroic resolutions whilst being ‘mere’ teenagers? How many fruitful vocations have been readily and generously accepted by those who would today be deemed lacking in the requirement of ‘sufficient’ experience of the world to make such a choice?    

The first flowers of the gift of faith are amongst its most important and are not to be undervalued by those in authority in the family or the Church, for they are the unique gifts of Almighty God given for the good of the salvation of the young person for God’s own purposes in the Church and the world. We who are older and who supposedly ‘know better’ would do well to revere these gifts, not revile them.

For the gift of faith that has taken root in a soul enables the person to say a radical yes to God’s call, be that to the sacrament of Christian marriage, to the monastic or religious life or to the secular priesthood. For only a man or woman deeply rooted in faith can promise thus in a world dedicated to self-gratification and transitory pleasures. In the light of faith we discover and are given the means to seek after all that is True, Beautiful and Good amidst the shadows cast by the world, the flesh and the devil.  

These latter often impede the growth of faith in us, taking root and growing as the weeds amongst the wheat of last Sunday’s Holy Gospel. They can even uproot and kill the life of faith in us, with all the eternal consequences that that implies.

This dangerous and terrible reality is something with which we must reckon whilst there is still time. For even when it is almost strangled, the gift of faith sewn in our souls at baptism holds out the possibility of regeneration—of repentance and of conversion of life. This possibility, this magnificent reality, is of the very essence of the Kingdom of God, of the life of faith. Despair has no place in God’s household, even if at times those responsible for its administration behave to the contrary.  

For with God’s grace, nourished and restored by the sacraments, sustained by prayer and instructed by the teaching of the Catholic Church, faltering faith can become strong again. The lingering sins of youth can be overcome. The injuries suffered, or even caused, by us in mature life can be confronted in penitential and evangelical hope. Indeed, in God’s Providence, new flowers can blossom and unforeseen fruit can be harvested through our humble witness, even if it be the last hour of the day, (cf. Mt 20:1-16)

My brothers and sisters, no matter how deeply or fruitfully the gift of faith has taken root and grown in us to date, each of us is called to open our hearts and souls more widely to this gift, so that the Kingdom of God may grow more fruitfully in us and through us, for our salvation and for the salvation of the world. To that end we offer ourselves on the altar in this Holy Mass. +

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