Jesus said to his disciples: “You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lampstand, where it gives light to all in the house. Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.” (Matthew 5.13-16)
We have grown so accustomed to salt in our culture that we take it for granted. Many restaurants keep it on their tables along with pepper in case a customer wants to doctor up their plate of food with either one. It is so commonplace that it costs next to nothing. A pound of salt–not the name brand stuff–can be bought in the store for less than a dollar.
But it was not so in ancient times. Back then, it was considered a precious commodity, so much so that only the royal courts of Egypt and Persia had use of it. During the days of the Roman Empire, salt was used as a method of payment. So, for example, Roman soldiers were paid with packets of salt called sal. If you wondered where the word “salary” comes from, now you know. The same with the phrase “worth his salt.”
In ancient Biblical times, it was considered an appropriate offering to God, particularly when forming a covenant with the Almighty. Often, salt was used in the sacrifices that the Israelites made to God on their altars. The Hebrew scriptures make frequent references to these uses of salt. So, we should not be surprised that Jesus would use the image of salt in his teachings. Everyone was familiar with it and they all knew its importance.
We find the reference to salt in the section of Matthew’s gospel that is put before us today on this Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time. In terms of its placement, it is considered part of the Sermon on the Mount, the first part of which we heard last week when Jesus spoke to the crowds about those who would be blessed in the Kingdom of Heaven. We know these blessings as the Beatitudes.
With the image of salt, as well as light, that we find Jesus using immediately after the Beatitudes, we can assume the placement is important, at least to Matthew who presents the order to us. It is safe to say that the challenge of the Beatitudes–and they are challenging–is carried forth now in the images of salt and light, two very familiar items in everyday life in Judea, their importance understood by everyone.
Because both salt and light have remained essential and important parts of our own lives, we do not find it difficult to understand what Jesus is saying to his disciples when he says, “You are the salt of the earth,” or later, “You are the light of the world.” By his using the second person plural in these direct addresses, he is drawing a direct parallel between discipleship on one hand and salt and light on the other.
We may wonder what property of salt Jesus had in mind when he was making the comparison. After all, it had multiple uses as we have already seen. He directs our attention to the property that he wants us to associate with salt when he says “if salt has lost its flavor, with what can it be seasoned?” So, given the context, Jesus is saying that salt, when sprinkled on food or cooked into food, changes the food. It is transformative.
Again, none of this should surprise us. Anyone who has been put on a low-salt diet knows how tasteless the food is. Complaints are common because, as the person is quick to say, the food just doesn’t taste any good. It is bland. Of course, we hear Jesus say the same thing when he says “if salt loses its taste it is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.”
Much the same can be said about the imagery of light that follows on the heels of salt. It also is transformative, changing the environment from one of darkness to one of light. With light, a person does not have to stumble through the darkness, feeling his or her way ahead, unsure of taking the next step. A torch–or a flashlight in our times–allows clear visibility in the darkness, turning the world from a dark place into a well–lighted place.
So, when Jesus directs his disciples to be light, he is telling them that they are to provide illumination, a way to see in the darkness, transforming the environment from a dark space into one that is full of light. Even with our modern conveniences such as electricity, we still understand the meaningfulness of Jesus’ words. If we suffer a power outage, our world stops for all intents and purposes until electricity is restored. We may take it for granted at any other time, but we don’t when we flip the light switch and nothing happens, finding ourselves surrounded by the darkness, causing a feeling of restlessness and unease to enter our bodies.
Once we understand the duty that Jesus lays upon his disciples by way of these examples, we have a better understanding of just how radical our following his ways is intended to be. Our lives are to be lived in such a way that we transform and change the world around us, making it more like the place God created it to be, reshaping it so that it looks like a godly place, not an ungodly one.
The question we have to ask ourselves, then, is how transformative are our lives. How much do we change the world around us as would salt or light? Does our presence in the space we occupy make things better, more godlike, or have our lives become bland, meaning they are doing little to change the things around us?
Of course, this is where the rub comes. Our objective as put before us by Jesus is to change the world. Yet, in too many instances, the opposite is true. We are changed by the world. Rather than living our lives in such a way that we transform the world into a better place, we are so influenced by the world that we are the ones changed, losing in the process any specialness about us, making little to no difference in the move towards returning the world to the reign of God.
In other words, if we are doing nothing to pivot the world towards goodness, truth, and right living, then we in all likelihood have become part and parcel of the world, content with the ways of the world, much like doodlebugs ensconced in their sand traps in the dirt. In that case, we most certainly are not a city set on a mountain.
As followers of the Lord Jesus, we are expected to be actively engaged with the world, at work to transform it into the kingdom of heaven, a place where people live at peace with each other, where the poor share in the bounty of the earth, and where the hungry are fed by those who have more than enough. It is a place where everyone is cherished and no one feels left out. Like the baker that kneads the dough so that it is changed into a beautiful loaf of bread, we knead the ways of Jesus into every corner of the world, allowing it to be transformed into a new heavens and a new earth.
Our good deeds, healing the sick, welcoming the foreigner, embracing the outcast, are seen because the proof is before everyone’s eyes. With our lives in lockstep with the life of Jesus, the ways of the world are changed from evil to good, from selfishness to sharing, and from hatred to love. Then, at long last, the promise and prophecy of the ancient prophet is fulfilled with the wolf being a guest of the lamb, the leopard lying down with the young goat, and the calf and the young lion browsing together.
If our world is far from such a place, then it is only because our salt has lost its taste and our light has been put under a bushel basket. We have failed to engage with the world, refusing to answer the challenge put before us by Jesus, instead sitting safely at home watching the world burn to ashes on our TV screens.
Or worse, we do not even see the wrongs done to the innocent and do not hear the cries of injustice from the little ones because we have melded with the world, becoming one with it in its wicked ways, oblivious to the rancid odor because we have carried it for so long on our own bodies, having allowed the world to form us into its image and likeness, rather than the reverse.
Just as we cannot say we do not know when salt has been added to a dish, or when a light shines brightly, we also cannot say that we do not know what it means to put our lives in service to changing the world. We have bright lights such as John XXIII, Mother Teresa, and Martin Luther King, Jr. who have shown us the transformative power of one life, their good deeds making the world a better place because they were in it.
So, it is not that we are clueless as to what Jesus means when he calls us to be salt and to be light. We know full well the meaning of his words. But for too many of us, we have claimed to be part of the team when, in fact, we have never set foot on the field, instead choosing to be spectators in the stands who watch from afar, but do not enter the hard and harsh game where we must suffer the blows and sweat from the brows. It is not enough to wear the t-shirt. We have to wear the jersey, torn and bloodied from our engagement with those who would not have the world change.
By now we should know that the message of Jesus is not terribly complex. There is nothing difficult to understand about the value of salt or the usefulness of light. In fact, Jesus’ message is the essence of simplicity: feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, welcome the foreigner, visit the imprisoned. It requires no special degrees from us and no special standing. All it requires is eyes that see the lost, hands that reach out to the weak, and feet that walk beside the persecuted.
If that is not simple enough, then perhaps Teresa of Avila can make it even easier for us. At the end of her book “Interior Castle,” she wrote, “When one reaches the highest degree of human maturity, one has only one question left: How can I be helpful?”
When all is said and done, it is the same question that directed the path of Jesus as he walked the roads of Galilee. Desiring above all else to be helpful, he found ways to feed the hungry, to heal the leper, and to welcome the stranger. And he asked those who followed him to do the same, to ask themselves each day how they could be helpful to those in need in this world.
If we allow ourselves to be guided by that same question, “How can I be helpful,” we might find ourselves transforming the world even as a few dashes of salt changes a plate full of food from bland to delicious or as a flicker from the wick of a candle can bring light into even the darkest room. Imagine what this world would be like if more of us simply strived to be helpful each and every day.
–Jeremy Myers
Sunday Brunch 