Sermon on August 10, 2025
“Led by Faith”
By: Seminarian Anthony Amato

When I was a little kid, there was a movie I watched that taught me what faith was like, and it left a really big impression on me. There’s a scene where the main protagonist, in his quest to find the Holy Grail, crosses a deep and perilous chasm by walking over a bridge that he cannot see. This scene depicts a literal walk of faith, whereby faith becomes the very thing enabling him to walk the path ahead and reach the very cup that Jesus used at the Last Supper.

If you’re familiar with this scene, you’ll know it’s from Steven Spielberg’s 1989 film Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. On the surface, this film is your typical action-adventure movie. The main character is continuing his father’s quest to find some ancient relic, making friends and facing all manner of danger along the way. But under the surface, there’s a theme that runs like a thread throughout the whole movie. That recurring theme is faith. Indiana’s father, played by Sean Connery, has genuine faith in the divinity of the Grail, and this faith eventually becomes the foundation of a father-son endeavor to locate it. When his father is fatally wounded, Indiana instantly adopts a similar faith in the Grail’s healing properties. Yes, he does so out of desperation to save his father, but it is his faith in the cup’s power that compels him to navigate dangerous traps and obstacles before finally reaching the cup’s resting place. All throughout, faith is what drives the narrative forward.

After retrieving the Grail, this holiest of ancient treasures, and after using it to restore his father back to health, the earth suddenly breaks apart and the cup falls into one of the cracks. But it’s still within reach. Indiana endangers himself by stretching his arm into the abyss to retrieve it, but his father successfully convinces him to let it go. Had he saved the Grail, Indiana could have been the most famous archeologist in the world. He could have had wealth beyond his imagination. But he realized…that giving up this priceless and invaluable artifact allowed him to receive two treasures infinitely more valuable. Life, for one, of course. He doesn’t fall into the abyss and die. The second treasure was of a father’s enduring and unconditional love. These are two gifts Indy already had, but perhaps didn’t appreciate.

This image of surrender actually helps us to understand the faith that Paul describes in his letter to the Hebrews. Faith is believing in something you cannot see, but it is also letting go of everything the world tells you is most valuable. Faith doesn’t just compel us to move forward, it informs how we move forward. It orients our hearts to the treasures that God promises us, instead of those the world convinces us are valuable. Take Abraham, for instance. He left behind his homeland, his security, and everything that was familiar to him, trusting in a promise he could not yet see. His steps were not guided by a map or a guarantee of earthly comfort, but by his confidence in the God who called him. Abraham’s faith redefined his priorities and reshaped the course of his life. His faithful acceptance and pursuit of God’s promises also sets into motion the birth of Israel, as well as the storyline for the entire rest of the Bible.

So what does all of that have to do with us? First of all, God is the Master Storyteller, and His story of creation – of our humanity, of our redemption – is much bigger than what can be contained even in Scripture. God desires nothing more than for humanity to participate in this cosmic narrative, to play leading roles in the joining of all creation with the Kingdom of Heaven. And would anyone like to guess what drives God’s redemption story forward? Faith! That’s right! Because faith drives us forward. Even when the path is uncertain – even when the path is dangerous, or just plain terrible, faith enables us to focus on God’s promises, and it gives us the strength to pursue them.

This is the kind of faith I have seen embodied by the unhoused, not knowing where they will sleep or when their next meal will come. Many of the people I meet on the street struggle to keep faith alive, especially when it comes to holding out hope for something long-term or far off, a spot in a homeless shelter, for example. A man I once met told me that he puts his faith in God, not that he’ll eventually find housing, but simply that he will survive today, let alone a month or even a week. Despite his suffering, or perhaps because of it, this man lived with his heart oriented toward what truly mattered: trusting in God’s provision for the day at hand, rather than being consumed by the uncertainties of tomorrow.

Now, that kind of faith stands in stark contrast to the way many of us are conditioned to live. As Americans, we’ve been taught that with enough self-reliance, we can achieve all we put our minds to. But because of this mentality, our long-term goals begin to feel like guarantees. We begin to put our faith in the promises we make to ourselves. And if our mind is centered around the expectation of earthly treasures, then that’s where our heart is also. Our hearts become so consumed by a desire for status, wealth, and power that we lose sight of what really matters: the treasures that cannot decay, the treasures promised by God: salvation, redemption, and everlasting life.

Jesus tells us that these heavenly treasures are impervious to harm or decay. But, perhaps more importantly, these promises aren’t something that only exist in the future. Not worrying about the future might help us to appreciate how these gifts have already been secured for us. The salvation and redemption of all creation has already been accomplished in the life, death, and Resurrection of our Lord. The question is, are we ready to receive what has already been placed in our hands? To receive it means being ready – ready to release our grip on what the world values most. Being ready for the coming of the Son of Man also means living out our faith in Christ by loving our neighbors as ourselves.

This sounds like hard work. And it is. But I have seen that kind of faith in action here at St. Martin’s. This parish’s history of community support, disaster relief, and social justice advocacy is a testament to your willingness to help make society look more and more like the kingdom of God. Not only am I mindful of St. Martin’s generosity, but recently I’ve been overwhelmed by it. Your support of my campaign to fundraise for the San Francisco Night Ministry has helped me to achieve my goal of $3,000 in just a couple of weeks. Because of you, dedicated night ministers are able to serve on the streets and over the phone as their vocational ministry. Because of you, we’re able to provide the unhoused with granola bars, water, and emergency blankets during our night walks. We’re able to feed the large gatherings who attend Open Cathedral and our other outdoor liturgical services. We’re able to buy and administer Narcan to those overdosing on fentanyl. Most importantly, because of you, we are able to walk alongside those who feel unseen, unheard, and unloved, and remind them that God sees them, hears them, and loves them. Your faith in Christ and his teachings has oriented your hearts towards the suffering of the marginalized, and I am grateful for the compassion and steadfast love you have shown by joining the Night Ministry in walking alongside the poor and the oppressed, loving them as images of Christ Jesus.

Friends, no matter where you find yourself in the unfolding narrative of your own life, remember that you are also part of a larger story that God is telling: the story of all creation being redeemed and brought into perfect communion with God the Father through God the Son. Our individual stories may seem small compared to what many have called the greatest story ever told, but they are each an essential thread in the tapestry of God’s redemptive plan. Faith is what moves that story forward. Like with Abraham, faith enables us to step into the unknown with confidence in God’s promises. Like with Indiana Jones, faith allows us to cross bridges we cannot see, and to release our hold on what the world tells us we cannot live without, freeing our hands to take hold of those heavenly treasures that endure forever.

So step out in faith, trusting in the One who calls you forward, and you will find that the path beneath your feet has already been prepared for you. Amen.