Genuine faith

A picture in one of our local dailies struck me as the Word of God written on lahar. It showed the portrait of Jesus known as “the eye”, the one used in cursillos, pinned on a dead tree trunk, the only sign of life in a sea of lifelessness, so it seemed. The deep penetrating eyes of the Lord seemed to overpower all the bleakness, the loneliness, the hopelessness of the whole scene. Truly, a great solace, the picture reminds all those who walk by in the gray gloom of a lahar-buried territory that there is still hope in spite of it all. The caption could well be the same message in today’s Gospel. It said that somebody must have hung the picture of Jesus there — somebody who believed in the words: “Faith isn’t faith until it’s all you can depend on.”

An aspect of Christian discipleship now emerges in Jesus’ saying about the kind and power of faith expected of His followers. The apostles beg Jesus for faith. Jesus’ answer to the request does not really meet it. His words put the apostles on the spot: If it were no bigger than a grain of mustard seed, yet genuine, it would have wondrous power. Jesus’ words are couched in a mixed condition. The implication is that the faith of the apostles is not even the size of the mustard seed, and that genuine Christian faith could grow and would have a power that would be limitless, expressed in the grotesque image of an uprooted tree being planted in the sea.

St. Paul speaks of a faith that “moves mountains” (1 Cor. 13:2). When he spoke thus, he was relating faith to speaking in effect, of a charismatic faith, which may be different from the essential Christian faith we talk about in Luke. The evangelist speaks of a reaction to the kerygma or Gospel. So even if one is a member of the charismatic movement, or even if as a member of the charismatic movement he or she is the most vigorous dancer and the best in action song to the tune of “I’ve got a Christian spirit, up in my head I’ve got it!” — it doesn’t at all follow that he or she has the greatest faith. Luke does not speak of that sort of faith; he is rather envisaging the reaction of human beings to the proclamation of Jesus Himself or of His disciples, whether this reaction is an attitude, a word or an act. The implied object of faith is God’s Word as proclaimed by Jesus. Not to heed this in our actual living is to water down a key spirituality in our lives.

We do not attract the faithful to a movement that puts in a lot of show. We may shout ourselves hoarse, wiggle our bodies, get our arms and hands flying up and down, our feet slapping the floor to the rhythm of the songs we sing to God in rock or fox-trot fashion, but down and out of religious prayer meetings we don’t care the heck whether we live within the bounds of justice and charity, minding the moral laws that tell us to give fair and just wages to your employees, to stick to your husband or wife, to keep away from the torrid night zones that can drain all the stamina of your singing to God. We would know what Jesus means when he says: “if you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this sycamore tree, “Be uprooted and transplanted into the sea, and it would obey you.” Take Jesus’ word for it. Genuine faith is that powerful.