Matthew 5:(3-12) 13-16
Second Sunday in
Lent/ 17th March 2019
Salt and light. Are they tired metaphors for the Christian
life today? Perhaps salt really has lost its saltiness and light its luster?
Salt is essential to life, of course; we would die without it. Although too
much salt, we know, is not good for us. And as for light, although marvelous and
necessary for life, we kind of take it for granted. It’s there at a flip of a
switch. We carry around flashlights on
our phones. The daily rising of the sun
doesn’t fill us with the same kind of awe as it did for our ancestors. The natural world has become disenchanted.
In Jesus’ time, salt
was an extremely valuable, essential commodity. The Roman Empire issued its
soldiers “salt money,” a salarium, money
for a soldier to buy salt. Salarium
is the root of the English word salary. Salt was and is a rich metaphor, but Jesus
never really says in what way we are salt.
And I say “we” because Jesus is talking to the crowd, to the disciples. The “you” is plural. All of you, or, better, y’all. Y’all
are the salt of the earth; y’all are the light of the world. Still, Jesus never says in what way y’all are
salt. Are we a preservative? Are we here
to enhance the flavor and tastiness of the earth? Salt doesn’t really lose its saltiness; it
endures, so the metaphor doesn’t really work. Perhaps we’re meant to be a
purifying agent?
But we shouldn’t push
the salt metaphor too far because it doesn’t stand on its own in the text. Salt goes with light; they’re tied together—which
is easier to see in the Greek. Light
features prominently throughout Matthew’s Gospel, and his allusions to light
are rooted in the Hebrew scriptures, especially Isaiah 9, 42, and 58. Light
suggests revelation, instruction, the law, righteousness, God’s presence.[1]
Salt and light, together, reflect God’s
covenant with Israel and God’s commitment to the world, through God’s people. In
earlier cultures, salt was used in covenant making ceremonies. In Leviticus
(2:13), Numbers (18:19), 2 Chronicles (13:5), and Ezra (4:14), salt was eaten
by itself or with bread when committing to a covenant agreement. The Roman
Catholic Church often uses salt in the sacrament of baptism. Salt and light
signal that God is doing something new in and through Jesus, and that to be his
disciple is to be a herald of a new and lasting covenant effected by Jesus.[2]
To be his disciple is to be salt and
light. Still, Jesus never really says
how, except that we are light set on a hill for all to see, and that we are to
shine. But how? And what does that mean
for us in a world that has a very different relationship with light? Did Jesus
leave us without any instructions?
The answer is yes, but
they’re often overlooked because these verses are usually lifted out from the flow
of the sermon and taken out of context. Look at what comes before verse 13 and
you’ll see Jesus’ blessing statements, the Beatitudes. As we discovered last week, behind the
English word “blessed” is the Greek word makarios, which can be translated as
“blessed,” but it can also mean “blissful,” “happy,” “fortunate,” or
“flourishing.”
We also discovered another problematic
Greek word in the text; it’s the word hoti, often translated
“for.” “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom”
(Mt. 5:3). The use of the word “for” in each statement creates the
impression that these descriptions of blessedness will be experienced one day,
in the future. It’s also easy to read or hear these verses as
saying: If I am poor
in spirit, God will bless me, and then I will enter the kingdom. If I am
meek, then I will inherit the earth, etc. If
I live this way, I will be blessed. If we took a poll, my guess is
that most us have read it this way. If “p,” then “q.” But this is a flat,
we could even say boring way
of reading this text.
The Greek word hoti (for) can also
be translated “because.” And hen we translate the Beatitudes this way, using “flourish”
instead of “blessed,” everything changes:
Flourishing are the poor in spirit
because the kingdom of heaven is theirs.
Flourishing are the mourners because
they will be comforted.
Flourishing are the humble because
they will inherit the earth.
Flourishing are the ones hungering
and thirsting for righteousness
because they will be
satisfied.
Flourishing are the merciful because
they will be given mercy.
Flourishing are the pure in heart
because they will see God.
Flourishing are the peacemakers
because they will be called the children of God.
Flourishing are the ones persecuted
on account of righteousness
because the kingdom of heaven is
theirs.
Flourishing are you whenever people
revile and slander you and speak all kinds of evil against you on account of
me. Rejoice
and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven, for in the same way they
persecuted the prophets who were before you.[3]
Y’all are the salt
of the earth…Y’all are the light of the world.
You see, the
salt and light metaphors belong to the Beatitudes. They flow out from the blessing statements,
they’re a continuation of what comes before them. Jesus wants his disciples to see that when we
live this way, live the way he lived, we will come to see what a flourishing
life looks like; and when we are flourishing in this way we are being salt and
light in the world. Something happens to and in the world through us, because
of us.
What’s
striking about Jesus’ teaching is that he wants us to see that we are salt and
light—already. The late Eugene Peterson reminds us that, “Scripture does not present us
with a moral code and tell us ‘Live up to this,’ nor does it set out a system
of doctrine and say ‘Think like this and you will live.’ Rather”—and this is
crucial—“the biblical way is to tell a story and in the telling invite: ‘Live
into this—this is what it looks like to be human in the God-made and God-ruled
world; this is what is involved in becoming and maturing as a human being.”[4]
Live into this. Live into this vision.
Live into thinking of yourself as salt and light. What if we leaned forward
into it? What if we allowed the symbol to shape us, inform us, touch us, spark
something in us, teach us, lead us as a church? Live and serve this way and we’ll soon find
ourselves being changed, becoming salt and light. Jesus has already said we are
salt, we are light. Now become who you are. Become who are, already!
Go ahead: Shine! “Let your light shine
before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your
Father in heaven” (Mt. 5:16). Go ahead,
let your light shine. Shine, Church, shine! Don’t hide your light under a
bushel. Don’t be afraid. Don’t hide who you are. The world cannot afford for us
to be timid. Don’t be afraid to shine!
Flourish! Become who you are!
In love, Jesus calls us out and invites
us to shine. That’s what love does. “Love makes your soul crawl out from
its hiding place.”[5] That’s
how Zora Neale Hurston (1891-1960) put it, the African-American author and
anthropologist. “Love makes your soul
crawl out from its hiding place.”
Jesus calls us to shine. But what does this mean for us, we who have a
different relationship with light? There’s
still, God knows, plenty of darkness in the world. What does it mean for us to
be light today? Jesus tells us we’re light, but we know that we’re not the
source of light. I’m not. You’re not. The Church is not. But perhaps we can be the conduit for light,
the channel of light. As servants of the Light, we
are called to help each other see more clearly: to see who we are (and aren’t),
to see our neighbors—truly see them, not our fearful and false projections, but
who they really are; to see the world around us, and to see more clearly who
God is (and isn’t) and what God is calling us to be (and not be) and calling us
to do (and not do).
What if these days we’re called to be
more than a shining light on a hill—static, stationary, emanating light? That feels kind of passive. The church must
be active. We need to shine. As disciples of the Light, we need to use the
light that we have, that we are, to illumine the dark places in the world. We
need to bring more light into the world. As the slogan or motto of The Baltimore Sun reads “LIGHT FOR ALL.”
That’s who we are.
But how? Our Envision Fund is
certainly one way, hopefully, we’re bring more light into the world. The board
is meeting today to vote on their grant recommendations to Session. More than
$140,000 will soon be available to help shed some light in dark places.
But, instead of being a stationary
light for all to see, what if we were more like search lights or headlamps?
Consider what it’s like driving down a dark road at night. The headlamps on the car illumine the road so
we can make our way through the dark, but we know that the darkness is still
there, just beyond the range of our high beams, and we’re careful because we
never know what’s lurking in the darkness about jump out in front of us. The more light we have the easier our way
through the woods.
The Church is called to shine its light
in the dark places of the world. We must not be afraid to discover what hides
in the darkness. The Church is called to
be a spotlight on all that lurks in places and people that are enemies of the
light. Isn’t this how we expose injustice in the church and in society? Don’t
we have to shine light on it to see it? Otherwise it hides in the darkness and
shadow and it works its diabolic deeds of division and destruction. When we
shine a light on injustice or a wrong, we see it, and then we can name it. We
call it out. Isn’t this what our teenagers were doing at Friday’s Global
Climate Strike, demanding climate change reform? They were shining light on
an issue, to help more see what many continue to deny, those who live in the
darkness of denial. This is holy work.
To act this way means that we must be
confident about who we are. It requires
courage. It requires strength. And it requires grace and love and mercy to
shine the light on the dark and shadowy places in our lives and in the world
that hinder God’s children from flourishing, that hinders their future.
The Church needs to shine a stead, strong
light on racism within our hearts and in the Church and institutions, and shine
the light on the Church’s own complicity in racism, and expose the sin of white
supremacy and white nationalism. Princeton
Theological Seminary recently completed a comprehensive historical audit that shines a strong
light on its complicated and complex relationship with slavery in the nineteenth
century, and how it benefited from the enslavement of African-Americans. I was shocked and disturbed to read the finds
of this report about an institution near and dear to my heart.
And, given the horrific attack in Christchurch,
New Zealand, the Church must continue to call out Islamophobia whenever we see
it. And we need to call out anti-semitism.
We need to shine the light on places,
people, relationships, situations of human cruelty and abuse, systemic
injustice. In today’s New York Times there is a feature
article, “The Tragedy of Baltimore,” on the rise of violent crime in Baltimore
City, especially since Freddie Gray’s death in 2015. It’s written by Alex
MacGillis, who worships at First and Franklin Presbyterian Church, downtown. A
lot of light is needed to expose the death-dealing systems tearing the city
apart, and taking the lives of God’s children.
And the Church needs to shine the light
on evil. We must name it evil, and expose it, and say it for what it is—in us,
in our families and communities, in our churches, in government and the highest
halls of power.
“Y’all
are light,” Jesus said! Don’t be afraid. Go ahead, shine! And when we do, all
our good works will point back not to us, but to the source of light itself. And we’ll give God all the glory.
* * *
This sermon is part of a six-week Lenten series:
Following Jesus: The Sermon on the Mount
March 10: Are You Flourishing?
March 17: Becoming Salt & Light
March 24: Wholeness, Not Perfection
March 31: Matters of the Heart
* * *
This sermon is part of a six-week Lenten series:
Following Jesus: The Sermon on the Mount
March 10: Are You Flourishing?
March 17: Becoming Salt & Light
March 24: Wholeness, Not Perfection
March 31: Matters of the Heart
[1] Jonathan T.
Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and
Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic,
2017), 163-164.
[2] Pennington,
165.
[3] This
Pennington’s translation of Matthew 5:3-12, 143-144.
[4] Eugene
Peterson, Eat This Book: A Conversation
in the Art of Spiritual Reading (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 43-44.
[5] Nora Neale
Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God
(HarperPerennial, 2006).
