The Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time (2025)
As I was preparing this homily, I was struck by the timelessness of the lament that we heard from the Prophet Habakkuk:
How long, O Lord? I cry for help but you do not listen!
I cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not intervene.
Habakkuk is crying out to God in the face of the violence, strife, and “clamorous discord” of his time and place, but we can all-too-easily recognize the same cry in the experiences of the victims of war and terror, of violence, of racism and xenophobia, of domestic or sexual abuse… And as public discourse grows more and more bitter, we seem further away than ever before in discovering what will make for a peaceable world.
Habakkuk cries out in frustration (maybe even in anger), wanting God to intervene and put an end to all of that distress. His questions of “How long?” and “Why?” speak of his desperation: “Why do I have to be a witness to all of this, especially since you don’t seem to be listening to my call for help?”
This isn’t poetry. These words are a real call for help.
But we find at the heart of the prophet’s lament—his complaint to God—an expression of profound religious sentiment. In those words we find a humble acknowledgement of the limits of human power and of faith in what God is able to accomplish.
Think about it… Habakkuk would not have cried out to God if he did not believe that God could bring peace and justice where there is only violence and misery. These words of lament are, at their core, an expression of hope, because the prophet would not turn to God if he did not believe that would intervene.
Ultimately, God does respond… not with an answer but with a vision. Although, we don’t know what that vision was, Habakkuk is ordered to write down the vision clearly so that everyone can read it. The prophet is reminded that although it may seem long in coming, the vision of God’s peaceable reign will be fulfilled. For his part, Habakkuk must be patient and remain faithful.
This divine directive given to Habakkuk is an excellent reminder to us that no transformative change ever comes without being grounded in the vision of the Reign of God. Now, that vision—which is to be fulfilled in the future—does have its own appointed time of revelation and realization. The challenge in this is that the exact time of that revelation and realization is known only to God. This reminds us, however, that, even though current realities—Habakkuk’s and our own—might suggest otherwise, God is indeed in charge of the events of life. We are being invited to share Habakkuk’s patience and fidelity as we watch and wait…
Turning to the Gospel, we see that the disciples—like the prophet—are wanting Jesus to “fix” things for them by granting them more faith. In a sense they are saying, “If only you would give us greater faith, then we can navigate everything you’re asking of us.”
There is a problem with what they are asking, however: they are interested in a quantity of faith and Jesus is concerned about the quality of their faith. And so, to try to illustrate this point, he uses those images of the mulberry tree and a mustard seed.
A mulberry tree has a deep and extensive root system that makes these trees extremely difficult to uproot and replant. A mustard seed, by contrast, is tiny, but, when it takes root, the plant spreads like wildfire and is also nearly impossible to eradicate.
In our struggles to be faithful disciples, we can live through periods of time—some short and others unbearably long—when we feel abandoned by God or when we feel painfully inadequate and we might wish for divine intervention. Even the most righteous among us can feel abandoned by God. When this happens, broken hearts and strained spirits cry to God in complain: How long? Why?
These times of near despair know no restrictions based on age or gender or class. Teens search for meaning and identity; people in midlife crises may desperately question life choices; the elderly can feel that everything they have held dear is either taken from them or is slipping away. People fall victim to natural disasters, losing everything that gave meaning to their lives. Husbands and wives are betrayed by their partners, and they see lives that they have built crumble before their eyes. Illness strikes indiscriminately and deaths shadow is never far away.
Finally, we have all known the tedium of life. We’ve all been worn down by it, tempted to give up, too weary to go on. These are all moments when we stand before the doors to faith and to despair, trying to decide which one we will pass through.
For those disciples—and for us—who feel so small when compared to so many hard realities and injustices, Jesus is saying that we already have what is needed to do the transformative world of making real his vision of the Reign of God. The challenge for us—as it was for Habakkuk and the disciples—is to open ourselves to a genuine faith—a mustard-seed faith—because such faith will be able to realize what seems to be impossible.
This faith is a gift for which we pray.
Almighty ever-living God,
who in the abundance of your kindness
surpass the merits and the desires of those who entreat you,
pour out your mercy upon us
to pardon what conscience dreads
and to give what prayer does not dare to ask.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, for ever and ever. Amen.
-Collect for the 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time
