Brief synopsis of the readings: Our first reading comes from the Old Testament prophet Habakkuk. He begins the reading by complaining bitterly that the Lord does not listen to him: I cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not intervene. Why do you let me see ruin; why must I look at misery? The Lord responds by instructing him to write “down the vision clearly upon the tablets, so that one can read it readily.” Further, “the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late.” In Luke’s Gospel we read about the apostles asking Jesus to increase their faith. Jesus responded by telling them that if they had the faith of a mustard seed they would have the power to uproot a mulberry tree. Furthermore, he tells them that a servant who finished his field work would not be invited to a place at the master’s table. Instead the master wouldn’t be grateful for the servant’s work because they servants only did what they were obliged to do.

Can I make an admission to you? I know preachers aren’t supposed to say this, but I really don’t like this Gospel. It’s not what it says, but how we interpret it.

If you came here this week hoping to be uplift by today’s readings, you may be thinking that you’d be better off spending your morning sleeping in or reading the newspaper at Starbucks. Hopefully by the end of this homily you’ll rethink and see the value in these readings.

We don’t know much about Habakkuk but I think we can all can sympathize. We can all, I believe, exquisitely describe those things we want God to fix: our bad habits, our families, our political process, whatever. And we all feel the impatience when God doesn’t act on our timetable or share our agenda. If only God shared our awareness and path to true universal happiness.

Unfortunately our path between Habakkuk and Luke’s Gospel leads has often led us to the belief that we don’t have what we want because our faith isn’t strong enough. It’s this misinterpretation that causes me to groan when I see this Gospel coming.

And while I’m hesitant to run afoul of beliefs we were told as children and have believed for decades, let me try. I recognize how many of us have ingrained this belief into our very souls. Many years ago I was visiting my parents and attended daily mass with my father. I don’t remember the readings but I do remember the priest saying: “If your prayers are not being answered maybe you should look at your life.” I’m not articulate enough to describe my anger at this, thinking about my fellow parishioners who were there praying for loved ones with cancer or children with addictions. Or even those of us who were praying for world peace and an end to conflict in our families. Simply put, this priest blamed us for our troubles by telling us we weren’t good enough and if we had enough faith, all would be good.

And when Jesus tells us that if our faith was as large as a mustard seed we would be able to do great things, we’ve misunderstood this to believe that if we can’t do great things our faith must not be as great as a mustard seed. And many of us, who don’t grow mustard, were told that mustard seeds are the smallest of all seeds and they become the greatest of shrubs (in fairness we’re told this in the 13th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel).

But you see, mustard seeds are not exceptionally small, and they grow to become great shrubs, not trees. For generations we’ve been putting ourselves down by believing we don’t stack up to even the smallest of seeds and therefore have no chance to do great things. The disconnect between our prayers and our reality lies solely in our weakness.

But here’s the thing with mustard seeds, that Jesus’ listeners would know: they don’t grow into great and tall trees, they spread laterally like shrubs. When I lived in the American south there was a plant called kudzu (you can look it up). It’s not native to the United States but was introduced in the 1800s as a way to stop erosion. Once planted it spread like crazy, overtaking and overwhelming other plants. It’s become a metaphor for out of control growth.

And, in a funny sort of way, I think this is what Jesus had in mind when he spoke to his apostles. I don’t think he was shaming them for having so little faith, but was instead encouraging them to become a fast moving shrub that spread in all directions.

Because by doing this, by spreading in all directions, we find ourselves. Instead of preparing and purifying ourselves so that we may spread our faith, we should rather spread our faith so that we can purify ourselves.

With appropriate apologies to the brave men and women who (without regard to their personal safety) taught me in school, I have learned my best lessons not in the classroom but outside of it. And while there was content in the classroom, the world outside of the classroom gave me context. At the risk of running afield of the readings, when the apostles asked Jesus to increase their faith, Jesus told them to be like a mustard seed. But instead of shaming them to have the faith to move a mulberry tree, he was telling them to spread and find their faith in their travels.

I had no illusions, when I completed my education, that I was exactly what the Kingdom of God had been waiting for all these years. I prayed I was given enough to start the conversation with the people I met, and in truth I was. My understanding of Scripture (including these readings) gave me tools to enrich the faith journeys of those I met. But to a much larger degree they gave the me the tools to understand how these Scriptures inform the realities we all live with. I’ve learned how little to value interpretations that leave us feeling guilty and paralyzed, and how much to value our ability to preach the salvation message of Jesus. I’ve learned that we disciples spread the Word laterally and not by height.

And for what it’s worth, whenever I’ve spoken with missionaries, those who have gone outside of comfort zones to meet strangers, they have always told me about those they have met. Instead of bragging about their faith when they embarked, they humbly described their faith when they returned.

Do we increase our faith when we reach outside ourselves and our comfort zone? Do we move beyond the complaints and pain of Habakkuk when we raise our eyes out of our own misery to heal the misery of others? I hope we do.

So let us be mustard and kudzu. Let us find our healing in relationships with people who don’t know us and don’t know that together we hold the key to healing the world.