Sunday, October 5, 2025

The Wisdom of Creation

Our pet companions, like St. Francis, preach the message of God's unconditional love (with or without words)—will we follow their example?


Lamentations 1:1-6
  Psalm 137
2 Timothy 1:1-14
Luke 17:5-10

©2025 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

Holy God, open our eyes to see your glory in all creation, our hearts to rest in your Son, Jesus Christ, and our lives to be filled with your Spirit. Amen.

 

Growing up my family had a dog named Galahad. Sadly, we eventually gave him away because my dad figured out, he was allergic to canines. It made me sad and I pined for a dog for several years after that. 

 

A few years later, my parents decided to file for divorce. When my mom sat down to tell me the news, I was silent for a very long time. And, the first thing I said to her, the very first thing I said in response to this devastating (but not unexpected news) was: “Does this mean we can get a dog?” 

 

A month later for my 11th birthday, I received a springer-spaniel runt of the litter puppy whom I named Merlin, and he was truly a magic dog. He was mischievous—eating whole sticks of butter, stealing hot dogs out a hot pan, and one time climbing up on our kitchen table to take a nap. But, he was also one of the most compassionate creatures I ever have met. 

 

When my mom or I was sad, Merlin would come up to us, sit down, and paw at us. It was almost like he was trying to pat us on the back or to place an encouraging paw on our shoulders. Merlin knew instinctively just how to show up, to be with us regardless of how we were feeling, and in his witness of his Creator, helped me to know that I do not carry my burdens alone, that the God of Creation is with me, as evidenced by this furry creature. 

 

That’s a glimpse of the Gospel today. Jesus says: “Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

 

St. Francis of Assisi whom we celebrate in this service lived those words. He was born into wealth, with every opportunity for comfort and power. But he heard Jesus’ call in a different way—he heard the invitation to lay down those heavy burdens of ambition and privilege, and to take on instead the lighter yoke of humility and love. He chose simplicity. He chose service. He chose joy.

 

And Francis saw something that most of us overlook: that all of creation is part of God’s family. The sun and moon, the birds and beasts, even the wolf he famously befriended—he called them brothers and sisters. Not because it made for sweet children’s stories, but because he truly believed God’s love bound all life together.

 

That’s why we bless animals today. Not just because they’re cute (though we all know they are). We bless them because they help us glimpse the goodness of God. They show us loyalty, joy, comfort, and rest. Wouldn’t we all be better human beings if we just napped a little more like our dogs or cats or hamsters or snakes? If we were loyal like dogs, cunning like cats, friendly like hamsters, and ever evolving like snakes?

 

And, there’s something more, our animal companions invite us back into relationship with all of creation. They remind us of our place in the family God made. This family of all Creation spans from microscopic bacteria to the vast expanse of interstellar space. Goodness that’s wild, right? 

 

Now, going back to our passage from Matthew. In this Gospel, Jesus promised an easy yoke—he did not promise that discipleship is effortless. And, we can see that in the life that St. Francis led. 

 

Francis’ life was not easy—he suffered, he gave up wealth, he faced ridicule. When we picture him preaching to birds or an apex predator, it wasn’t just because he loved them—it was also because his message of God’s radical love and our need to reform the Church was not met with applause from other human beings. Often they ran such that only the other creatures of God were left listening. 

 

But in all of this Francis was joyful, because he walked in step with Christ. His yoke was lighter than the burden of chasing wealth or status, because it was carried in love.

 

And maybe our pets are some of the best preachers of that truth. A dog wagging its tail at the door, a cat purring in your lap, a bird singing in the morning—they remind us of God’s tenderness and joy. They live fully in the present moment, and in that way, they invite us to rest in God’s presence now and always.

 

So today as we bless our animals, let’s also receive their blessing. Let’s hear again Jesus’ invitation to rest, to live simply, to walk in love. And let’s remember Francis, who saw the whole creation as a choir singing praise to God.

 

Because in their eyes, their wagging tails, their songs and their purrs, we catch glimpses of the Kingdom of God—a Kingdom where the yoke is easy, the burden is light, and all creation rests in God’s love.


Amen.

 

Step By Step, Seed By Seed

Our Faith does not require works, but in our work (especially our inner work) we find our faith in God.


Lamentations 1:1-6
  Psalm 137
2 Timothy 1:1-14
Luke 17:5-10

 

©2025 The Rev. Seth Olson


This sermon was preached at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles on October 5, 2025, the 17th Sunday after Pentecost. A video of the sermon may be found here.

 

Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen. 

 

When I was in college, running cross-country, there was a race when I thought I couldn’t take another step. The hilly course seemed endless. The finish line was nowhere in sight. And as I struggled past my coach, he could tell I was on the verge of quitting the race. His response? He yelled, “Just give me one!”

 

Meaning: just give me one step, the next step. Just focus on one hill, this hill. Just concentrate on this moment, and the next moment will have work of its own to do. For it was (and still is) all too easy for me to get overwhelmed by the toomuchness of it all, instead of focusing on the work right in front of me, or even right within me.

 

I think that’s exactly what the disciples are feeling in our Gospel lesson for today. Jesus has just been teaching about forgiveness—about forgiving again and again—and the disciples are overwhelmed. They cry out, “Increase our faith!” In other words: “Jesus, give us more fuel. Supercharge us. Give us some kind of spiritual injection.”

 

And Jesus’ answer is both comforting and challenging. He says: “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” In other words, it’s not about the size of your faith. It’s not about having a big tank full of it. Even a tiny speck is enough, because it’s not about quantity—it’s about trusting in the God who can do much with little.

 

And then Jesus tells this hard parable. He talks about a servant coming in from the fields, who still has work to do—serving the master’s meal, doing his duty. To our ears, this sounds harsh and thankless. But remember: in Jesus’ world, this was a familiar image. A servant wasn’t praised for just doing what was expected; that was simply part of life.

 

So, what’s Jesus saying here? He’s saying that faith is not some magical quality you either have or don’t have. It’s not about asking God to do the heavy lifting while we sit back and prop our feet up. Faith grows when we step into the work before us—when we forgive, when we love, when we show up, when we do the ordinary things that discipleship requires.

 

Faith isn’t a lightning bolt—it’s a long race, which is run step by step. It isn’t earned by doing the work, but it is discovered within the work.

 

And if we’re honest, sometimes that work is internal. Looking at the wounds or fears we’ve carried. Allowing God to soften our hearts. And sometimes that work is external—serving a neighbor, forgiving a friend, showing up for and as the Body of Christ.

 

The disciples ask for more faith, but Jesus points them back to their own lives. To the small steps of service. To the hidden, ordinary ways that faith is planted and grows.

 

So here’s the good news for us today: you don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t need a super-sized faith. A tiny seed is enough. One step is enough. One act of love, one prayer, one moment of forgiveness—that’s enough for God to work wonders.

 

Maybe that’s the invitation for us this week: not to worry if our faith feels big or small, but to ask: What step is God calling me to take today?

 

Because faith grows not in one grand achievement, but in the daily, humble work of love. Step by step. Seed by seed.

 

Amen.