27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (2025)

 

When I was in middle school and high school, my parents did something I didn’t really appreciate at the time — something that, looking back now, I see as one of the clearest examples of living the Gospel I’ve ever witnessed.

They took in my mother’s parents — my grandparents — to live with us. 

My grandmother had Alzheimer’s and could be very difficult to care for. 

My grandfather had only one leg and later was diagnosed with colon cancer. 

And all of this was happening while my parents were raising seven children on my father’s teacher’s salary. 

Seven kids, two elderly parents in need of constant care, and not a whole lot of money to go around.

And here’s what I remember: there were no awards, no public recognition, no one stopping by to say, “Wow, what saints you are.” 

There were no “thank you” speeches. It was just what they did. Day after day, year after year. 

Because it was the right thing to do. Because that’s what love does.

At the time, I didn’t have the language for it. But now I realize: they were living exactly what Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel.

The apostles begin today’s Gospel with a simple but powerful request: “Lord, increase our faith.” 

And Jesus answers them with two teachings that, when you really listen, belong together.

First, he says, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can uproot a mulberry tree and plant it in the sea.” 

In other words, don’t worry about the size of your faith. Even a little bit — if it’s real — can change the world. 

That’s the part of the Gospel we tend to remember.

But then Jesus tells a story we often skip right over. He talks about a servant who’s been out working all day in the field. 

And when he comes in, the master doesn’t say, “Sit down, relax, let me serve you.” 

Instead, the master expects the servant to keep serving. “Put on your apron,” he says. “Get dinner ready. Serve me first.” 

And Jesus says, “When you’ve done all you were commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.’”

At first glance, that sounds harsh. 

But Jesus isn’t being cruel — he’s resetting our expectations. 

He’s teaching us something vital about faith and discipleship: faith isn’t about applause. It isn’t about rewards. It isn’t about God owing us something.

True faith is about showing up — quietly, faithfully, consistently — simply because we love God and we belong to Him.

That’s what my parents were doing. They weren’t caregiving for praise or attention. They weren’t serving my grandparents because someone told them they “had to.” 

They were serving because love demanded it — and love is who they were.

And I suspect many of you know what that looks like.

• It’s the wife who spends years caring for a husband whose memory is fading.
  
  

• It’s the father who works two jobs so his kids can go to college.
  
  

• It’s the parish volunteer who’s always here, quietly serving in ways most people never see.
  
  

• It’s the neighbor who checks in on the elderly widow down the street.

They don’t do it for thanks. They do it because they love. They do it because they belong to Christ.

This is the deeper meaning of Jesus’ teaching: Faith isn’t proved by spectacular miracles. It’s proved by ordinary fidelity. 

It’s shown in a hundred small acts of service, in perseverance when no one’s watching, in doing the next right thing even when no one notices.

The apostles said, “Increase our faith.” 

And Jesus replied, “Be faithful — even in the small things. 

Even when there’s no applause. 

Even when there’s no visible reward.” 

Because that’s how faith grows. 

Not all at once. 

Not in fireworks. 

But like a mustard seed — quietly, steadily, beneath the surface — until it becomes something mighty.

So maybe the question we need to ask this week isn’t, “Do I have enough faith?”

Maybe the question is, “Am I living my faith — even when no one sees?”

Am I serving out of love, even when it’s hard, even when it’s thankless, even when it’s ordinary?

Because that’s where holiness grows. That’s where discipleship takes root. 

And that’s where God is most present — not just in the miracles that move mountains, but in the quiet acts of love that move hearts.

So today, as we come to this Eucharist — the greatest act of loving service the world has ever known — let’s pray for faith. 

Not necessarily a bigger faith. But a deeper one. 

A faith that doesn’t look for recognition. 

A faith that serves simply because that’s what love does. 

A faith that, at the end of the day, can say with humility and peace:

“We are servants. We have done what we were obliged to do.”

And that is enough.