Matthew 17:14-21 | Sleeva 2nd Sunday

Living the Faith that Moves Mountains

Today’s Gospel shows us Jesus returning from the high mountain of the Transfiguration to meet the struggles of daily life. After revealing His glory to Peter, James, and John, He comes down to the crowd, and there we find a father in distress, pleading for the healing of his son. This encounter is not just about illness; it is about faith; it shows us the heart of discipleship.

Matthew wants us to notice those shifts of place — from Caesarea Philippi to the mountain, from the mountain back into the crowd, returning to Galilee. These are not merely changes on a map. They are stages of a spiritual journey. The mountain reveals who Jesus is; the valley shows us who we are. We cannot stay forever on the mountain; faith must come down into the messy, painful realities of life.

The scene in the crowd is raw and distressing. A father brings his son, possessed by a kind of evil the Gospel describes in terrifying terms: seizures, convulsions, alienation. The boy suffers greatly, and the disciples cannot heal him.

This is a reminder for us: knowing Jesus is not enough. True faith goes beyond admiration, beyond understanding—it is trusting in His presence and His power, even when circumstances seem hopeless.

They are wounded not only by their failure to heal the child, but by a deeper realization: their faith, their trust in Jesus, is still fragile and immature. So they ask Him, “Why could we not cast it out?” And Jesus answers with honesty and clarity: “Because of your little faith.”

Then He gives them an image to awaken their hearts — “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you” (Mt 17:20). He is not only speaking about obstacles in our lives. In Scripture, the mountain is often the place of God’s presence.

Think of Mount Sinai where Moses met God face to face, Mount Zion where the temple was built, Mount Carmel where Elijah defended the faith, and Mount Tabor where Jesus was transfigured. The mountain, as the Fathers of the Church remind us, is the place where heaven and earth meet.

St. Gregory of Nyssa teaches that the mountain is a symbol of the soul’s ascent toward God, an image of our journey from earth toward heaven. Yet, through Christ, the mountain is not only a place of ascent, but also of encounter—where heaven stoops down to touch the earth. (Life of Moses)

And this is fulfilled in the Eucharist. St. John Chrysostom marvels that when the priest stands at the altar, heaven itself opens: “The altar is surrounded by a countless host of angels, who honor Him who is present.” The Eucharist is our mountain: heaven and earth meet here. Faith allows us to climb, but even more, faith allows the mountain to descend into the plain of our lives.

Jesus does not want us to keep God only on the mountaintop, distant and unreachable. He tells us that faith can move mountains. What does that mean? Faith brings the mountain—the presence of God—down into the plain, into the daily lives of ordinary people. Faith makes God present here and now, not only in special places or dramatic experiences, but in the midst of our families, our struggles, our workplaces, our communities.

When Jesus speaks of faith that can move mountains, He is not promising us control over every outcome. Rather, He is assuring us that if our fragile faith is rooted in Him, despair gives way to hope and the impossible becomes possible in God’s presence. The true miracle in today’s Gospel is not only the healing of the boy, but the healing of the disciples’ weak and wavering faith.

First, we must learn to carry the mountain with us. The moments when God reveals Himself in prayer, in the sacraments, or in Eucharistic adoration are not just private consolations. They are resources for mission. As St. John Paul II wrote in Novo Millennio Ineunte: “We shall not be saved by a formula but by a Person: I am with you!” When we meet someone in fear, sickness, or despair, we bring Christ’s presence into their darkness.

Second, we must be honest about our “little faith.” The disciples’ failure in the Gospel was not because they had no faith, but because their faith wavered. Like the father in Mark’s Gospel we cry out: “I believe, Lord; help my unbelief!” Faith does not grow by pretending doubts don’t exist, but by placing them humbly before Christ. As St. Augustine says: “Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.”

Third, faith is lived in community. The father brought his son to Jesus, and the early Church prayed and suffered together (Acts 2:42). St. Cyprian reminds us: “He cannot have God as his Father who does not have the Church as his mother.” If you struggle, let the community lift you. If you see another suffering, do not pass them by.

Finally, faith must be willing to walk with Jesus even to the Cross. The Catechism tells us: “There is no holiness without renunciation and spiritual battle.” The same power that raised Christ in glory was first revealed in the weakness of the Cross. St. Paul says it clearly: “We carry in our bodies the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested” (2 Cor 4:10).

Let us pray for mustard-seed faith. Small though it may be, when rooted in Christ, it can move mountains. St. Gregory the Great said: “Faith is the root of all good works; without faith, they are nothing.”

Let us walk this journey of faith with Christ — from Galilee to Jerusalem, from life through the Cross to resurrection. May our trials and doubts become places where faith takes root more deeply. May our smallest acts of trust bear great fruit, for “true faith can move mountains, heal what is broken, and transform our lives.”

Amen.

✍ Fr James Abraham