Isaiah 58:1-9 and Matthew 5:13-20
When I was first ordained, I had a
conversation with someone at a clergy event…well I suppose it was more of an
argument. At one point I said, “That’s just
not realistic.” He responded, “It really
bothers me when people say something in our faith is not realistic. There are a lot things in our faith that are
not realistic. That does not make them
untrue.” That statement made an impact on me. While he was no doubt wrong about
the argument itself, he definitely won that point. Consider the Christian story. A baby was born
to a virgin. Kings from the East
followed star to find the baby who was in a manger. This baby grew to be a man who healed people,
brought people back from the dead, walked on water, turned water into wine, and
on and on. He gathered a small band of
followers who were mostly fishermen. This man Jesus, died so that people he did
not know could be saved. He came back to
life and later floated up into heaven. A
religion was created from this small group of followers and now claims the
greatest following in the whole world.
Is any of that realistic?
Of course not! That is an indictment
of Christianity, or really any faith.
People say it’s like believing in dragons or magic. There is nothing real about. It’s just there to make us feel better, or
worse to give certain people power and dominion over others. That’s what some people say. If you are here in church, it is very likely
that you already believe the unbelievable.
You might have a hard time believing it all, but there is something that
draws you to Jesus and to faith…something that is extraordinary. So you keep
coming back to this house of worship. Many
of us find holiness in these walls with this community. We are emboldened by the prayers and the
music. But when we leave this sacred
enclave, often our faith becomes private and personal. It is still real, but it is real only in a
corner of our lives.
Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth;
but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? ….“You are
the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid…” Referring to people as light is not a new
concept for most of us. We sing. “This
little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine…” We might describe someone as
“lighting up a room.” Light is a good thing.
It enables us to see where we are going and what we are doing. Light gives us hope.
Salt
is a trickier metaphor. When we think of
salt, we think of something that is not good for us or something we have to cut
out of our diet because we have high blood pressure. We use it to season food that is bland. It’s a common ingredient. Nevertheless, it is something that almost
everyone has in their kitchen. It can be
quite handy. It can bring out the flavor
in those bland things. It adds a little
zest. Have you ever had french-fries
without salt? They are horrible! With salt, those are some tasty treats.
Salt
had slightly different purposes in the time when Jesus was telling people, “You
are the salt of the earth.” It was used to preserve food. It was even used for heat. They did not have
gas or electric ovens like we have today.
They didn’t even use wood because it was hard to come by. The stuff that was very abundant was camel or
donkey dung. This could be used as fuel,
but only if you were able to mix salt with it.
Salt was essentially the catalyst that caused the dung to burn. While
this is not the most appetizing image, it is clear that salt, like light, had and
has an important purpose. Salt and
light, by their very nature do something.
Part of what Jesus was saying to his followers and to us is that we have
a purpose. We are here on earth to do
something.
You
might think, well that is great news, but what are we supposed to do? The answer to that is in the reading from the
Old Testament, the Book of Isaiah. In
this story, we hear all about what people are doing. They are fasting. They are humbling themselves by rolling in
ash and wearing sack cloth (which is an incredibly itchy fabric). They are doing all the important rituals to
get God’s attention and gain his favor--- but God is not listening, or if he
is, he is not responding in the appropriate way. In fact when God does respond to these
displays of piety, God tells his prophet Isaiah, “I don’t want these symbolic
gestures. I want these people to do
something….to do something for the other people in their midst. I want them to help the oppressed, to share
food with the hungry and bring homeless people into their homes.”
What
was really irritating God about this situation is that these people were
fasting and spending all this time rolling around in ashes. They were so busy making these grand gestures,
other people had to do their work. And
the people who were doing their work were the people who were their servants
and slaves. They were people who did not
have the luxury to say no to the people in power. These people who were doing all these rituals
were also using it as an opportunity to argue about who was more godly, who was
more holy. They had totally missed the
point.
I
know I sound critical of this pious group and I should not be. I am a priest. I am all about ritual. I know that it is easy to get lost in the
ritual and the rules and forget what we (the people of God) are really
about. It is a lot easier to talk about
God than do the work of God. It is easier to describe the light than to be the
light. What God was asking of his people hundreds of years ago is what he still
asks of us today: to help the oppressed, the share food with the hungry and
bring homeless people into our homes.
That is a lot easier said than done, especially when most of us cannot
agree on the best way to do those things.
This
is one of those times when Jesus and the Bible don’t seem very realistic. I cannot let a homeless person in my
home. I mean, it’s one thing if we know
them, a friend or family member who has fallen on hard times. But I cannot welcome just any person into my
home. It’s dangerous.
Unfortunately
I don’t know what the answer is. On the
one hand, I believe that we are called to do things that do not make sense to
the world, things that most people would say is totally unrealistic and naïve. On the other hand, I don’t know the best way
to do those things, or I am too scared to do them. This is the best answer I can come up. Jesus said, “You are the salt of the
earth. You are the light of the world.”
He did not say, “Once you have reached paradise, you will be the salt of the
earth and light of the world.” He did not say, “Once you have studied,
discerned and come up with a practical solution, then, then you are the salt of
the earth and you are the light of world.”
No. He is telling us all, right now, just as we are, that we are already
the salt of the earth and the light of the world.
But
here is the hard part, we have to share the light. The light cannot be relegated to our Sunday
morning ritual. We also have to act as
catalysts in this world. That is all a
huge responsibility and overwhelming. To
be this light, to be agents of change, we need to gather our collective
strength. Each person here has a way
that they are being light and they are being salt. Tell me what it is. Send me an e-mail, stick a post it under my
door, give me a call. Then collectively, let us find more ways to be salt and
light. For awhile, let us suspend
judgment. Let is not yet decide who is
the brightest or who has the most zest.
And maybe (and I know this is hard for practical Episcopalians) let us
be just a tad, unrealistic. When it
comes to our faith, pragmatism is overrated.
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