Faith, Praise, and the Quiet Work of Love

Preacher: Fr. Iakovos Athanasios

Lessons: Heb 1:1-13,2:1-4; Ps 37:1-17; 2 Tim 1:1-14; Lk 17:5-10

It is strange how two parts of Scripture can seem to pull in opposite directions and yet reveal the same truth. In the Gospel, Jesus tells us that faith the size of a mustard seed can uproot a mulberry tree. That sounds like good news for anyone who has ever doubted or felt small. But then He tells a parable that warns against doing good for the wrong reasons. Almost as if He is asking, are you seeking greater faith to love more deeply, or are you just seeking praise for having good faith?

That question cuts deep in a world like ours, where so much of what we see cannot be trusted. Artificial intelligence can fake faces, voices, and even truth itself. It is easy to become cynical, and even easier to become distracted by people who want to be seen as good or Christian rather than simply becoming it. But the Gospel does not leave us that option. Jesus reminds us that servants do not expect thanks for doing their duty. We love because love is the job. We give because that is what followers of Christ do.

I have learned this the hard way. From my early faith in the Presbyterian Church, through my years wandering through Catholicism, even into the darker corners of belief, and finally into the Convergent Catholic Communion, one thing has held true. We are not called to do right for the sake of applause. The basic rule is simple and ancient: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. But if we do it for the pat on the back, we have already missed the point.

Christ warned about those who pray loudly so others will notice. “They have received their reward,” He said. That still stings. Because we live in a time where even good deeds are posted, liked, and shared for validation. But if the goal is the like, the heart of the act dies. What could have been sacred becomes performance.

I am a teacher, and I hear it often: “I could never do what you do.” People mean well, but teaching, like faith, is not meant to win praise. It is a calling, a quiet act of service. When we seek praise, we lose sight of why we began. It is the same with faith. When we do good to be seen as good, the work empties itself. Even when I have done it, I can feel the hollowness later. It does not feel clean, it feels counterfeit.

Jesus said not to let the left hand know what the right is doing. That is hard when everything in our culture tells us to share. But real discipleship is hidden. It happens when no one is watching. I once had a friend, someone spiritual but not Christian, buy a meal for a homeless woman who just wanted fries. I ignored her, as most of us have. My friend did not hesitate. No sermon. No selfie. Just compassion. In that moment, I felt the Spirit whisper, “That is what it looks like.” It was a painful grace. I realized I was more interested in appearing faithful than actually being faithful.

Every time we do good for the wrong reason, we deny Christ. That is a hard truth, but also a freeing one. It reminds us that real holiness does not need to be seen. The quiet act of love is often the truest act of faith.

As we move toward the season of the Incarnation, when God took on flesh and lived among us, we are reminded that He did not come for recognition. He came to serve, to suffer, and to save. So the question stands: are we doing good because it is right, or because we crave attention?

This week, let us pray for an unseen faith. The kind that loves without recognition. The kind that gives without expectation. The kind that trusts that even the smallest seed, when planted in humility, can still move mountains.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.