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The Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, 02/09/2014
Sermon on Matthew 5:13-20, by Luke Bouman
Matthew 5:13 "You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. 14 "You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. 15 No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. 17 "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. 18 For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. 19 Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20 For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
Salt, Light, and the Least Little Iota
The world is dark and cold for many people this night. Power has once again been knocked out by the latest winter storm in what seems an endless progression across the United States this year. People huddle in the darkness and wonder whether they will be able to stay warm. They light candles. Those that can, gather around fireplaces, logs ablaze against the dark and the cold. Outside salt trucks spread their precious bounty on the streets, in hopes that the ice and snow can be melted enough for the power company trucks to safely move to restore the power that people so crave.
Salt and light continue to mean much in our world, if in somewhat different ways than in Jesus' world. But on a deeper level the darkness, the blandness, the powerlessness is the same now as it was then, as it ever was. Following the mantra "If it bleeds, it leads" the news media exaggerate the darkness. This report talks of the movie star, alienated and despairing, who dies alone and ashamed, of a drug overdose. The next report causes the heart to tug as yet another family, torn apart by violence, lays dead victims of gun violence that ends with the gunman taking his own life. The dark is real and powerful, even when not highlighted in the news.
In the midst of darkness like this we are tempted to wonder, where is God? Some answer by proclaiming God a fairy tale, told to give the illusion of light. Others proclaim that God's light is only for the worthy and the strong. Still others simply huddle in the cold and dark and hope against hope. Where is the "light of the world?" Where is the "Salt of the Earth?" How do we know we aren't waiting for salt trucks and electric power workers who simply will not come?
Jesus himself is a bit more confident. He proclaims to the people who are listening to him on that hillside in Galilee, "You are the salt of the earth." "You are the light of the World." But Jesus is not merely a motivational speaker. He doesn't live in some fantasy world. He knows that on our own our salt will indeed lose its flavor, our lights will be hidden or hoarded. He knows that we are human. Still he calls the people, he calls us who follow him, salt and light. Amazingly, Jesus not only names us so. He knows that we can be and will be what he proclaims us to be.
In our world we live with the illusion that light can go out. We live with the illusion that death can stopper it, like a plug in the bathtub drain. Under that illusion, we live in fear that we must hoard our lights, keep them burning at any cost. The lights of our lives thus not only do not shine brightly, but often they go out completely. We exist, but we do not truly LIVE. Jesus' own life shatters our illusions. He lived not in fear of death, but willingly submitting to it. In turn, death did not stopper Jesus' bright light. In fact it could not contain it. Jesus was free to give it to everyone, there was so much life and light to give and be had. With Jesus, we are promised that the lights of our lives will burn and even death will not be able to stopper us either. Armed with this promise we are free to be light as we are knit together into a new reality, the continuing Body of Christ in this world.
Light is amazing stuff, really. It is both wave and particle. It can be shared from one room to another simply by opening a door. When it is thus shared, the lit room loses no light in the process. Light gives life to all around it. Salt is also amazing. It is so common that even our own bodies produce it. It preserves food, provides essential minerals to the body, and melts the cold and icy paths for our safe journeys in the dark and cold of this world. We are Salt and Light, as Jesus said, precisely when we lose any notion that we ourselves must produce these things and are gathered into a community where Christ's Salt and Light are in the center. For truly through dying on the cross Jesus has become, once for all, the seasoning by which our world is transformed, the light by which all people are drawn back to the God who first created us and our world.
But knowing that Christ's light has come among us and united us is not enough. There is also a "way" of following that allows the light to be shared. The "law" and the "prophets" that Jesus talks about proclaimed that God called first Israel, then all nations, to be light (and salt). This happens as we learn to give ourselves in deep love to others of God's children and creation. We become light and salt with Jesus as we learn to trust God's way of being in the world, of giving ourselves, not hoarding for ourselves. It happens most clearly as we give our lives trusting in the hope and future of God, promised in the resurrection. When we insist on justice for all of God's children, we are truly salting the world, seasoning it with love and care. As we look, not to ourselves, but to the serving of others, we become beacons of light, created in Christ to be in the world. Such a thing does not require grand action and gesture. It is the "iota" things, the smallest of the small letter things that God uses. Mother Teresa of Calcutta put it this way. "We are not called to do great things. We are called to do small things with great love."
Perhaps Jesus had this in mind when he talked about the stroke of a letter of the law remaining until God's work was finished. These little acts of love, these little "iotas" (the smallest Greek letter) of love will continue to shine light and give salt to the dark, bland, cold world until, one small act of love at a time, everyone will know that God is with us, giving us love and grace even when the darkness seems overwhelming. God's love, God's light in Christ, will not be stopped. Even death could not contain it. We are called into that love and light through our baptism into Christ.
Here's one story of how Gods light shines and banishes darkness, even in our imperfect ways.
Rachel came into the judging room confident. She had prepared an operatic aria to sing for the contest. She was among the last singers of the day. Rachel, herself, was confident, but her accompanist was a no-show. It was snowing and travel was bad on the roads, and somehow her piano player did not make it. But this did not deter the young singer. She announced she would sing her piece without accompaniment. Rachel began to sing, but soon her confidence wavered. She stopped. Walked to the piano and confirmed she had lost track of the key she was singing in. She picked up in the right key, but soon lost track again and this time she couldn't continue. She began to cry as the judge sympathetically told her that perhaps this day it might be best not to finish and try again next year.
It was at that point that the alert volunteer who was keeping people quiet outside the judging room noted what was going on, offering a solution. Chris, a capable accompanist had indicated earlier that he was done for the day and would gladly assist any young person who needed a stand in, given the weather and the likely need for extra players. Chris could sight read nearly anything and just at that moment he happened to walk in the hallway. As the judge graciously allowed Rachel to start anew with piano help to guide her, Chris stepped into the room. Rachel's eyes suddenly lit up. "I know you!" she exclaimed. Indeed they knew one another through a mutual friend and immediately she relaxed. After a quick tempo check, she sang, not perfectly, but quite well considering that she had no more than a couple minutes earlier been in tears. Her judge gave her a high enough score to move on to the state contest. Everyone's faces were lit with excitement and grace, singer, emergency accompanist, and judge. Chris was Christ's light in that moment. And this light shared becomes light for many.
It seems such a little thing, for one musician to help another. But it is in ways like this that our lights, whatever our gifts and talents may be, are shared from one to another, giving light along our human journey. It is in this way that the salt of our lives gives seasoning to those whose tears are all too real. We are all planted in such a way that the light and salt of Christ are made manifest in our lives. No act of love is too small. You ARE the salt of the earth. You ARE the light of the world. There is no time to lose. Shine for everyone to see!