February 6 sermon

Text: Matthew 5:13-20
Preached February 6 at Holden and Dale and February 9 at First


Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

I just talked with the kids about salted and unsalted snacks. Which do you prefer? Do you have bags of salty, flavored, full-of-fat chips and dip ready to go for tonight’s big game? Or will you be munching on unsalted pretzels or rice cakes? I know which party I’d rather attend!

As much as I enjoy the chips and dip, when I dig into a bag, I sometimes wonder what others think of me. Do they think I should be choosing differently? Do they think my eating habits are always less-than-stellar? Sometimes it makes me want to choose the rice cakes just to avoid making a bad impression.

Maybe you’ve had similar thoughts. There are countless ways we put on a façade, trying to present ourselves to others in the most flattering light, trying to meet some standard we think they’ve set for us, which may or may not be true. Trying, most of all, to escape their judgment.

There are much deeper ways in which we do this, and sometimes we even try to deceive God, and ourselves. If we don’t want to face the judgment of our friends and family, how much less do we want to face God’s judgment or our own?

This is the reality of our sinfulness. This is what happens when we get caught up in the wisdom of the world of which Paul speaks in our second reading. The world’s wisdom encourages us to do whatever we need to do to appear acceptable to others. It tells us this is how we advance our position and achieve whatever we’re seeking—a better job, more friends, influence in our communities.

The Israelites found themselves in a similar situation. They wanted to impress God, so they followed all the rules of religious practice. Isaiah tells us they observed days of fasting, and humbled themselves on those days. They bowed down their heads like a bulrush, and lay in sackcloth and ashes.

The Israelites said to the Lord, “Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” They remind me of a phase my brother went through when he was young. For a while, whenever he was upset with our parents, his response was to run away from home.

Not to worry—he wasn’t allowed to cross the street at this point, so he never got further than the corner of our block. But every time he’d pack his little bag and take off, he’d turn around every few steps to see if anyone was watching. The desired effect, of course, was to inspire remorse in our parents for whatever they had done to upset him, so he had to make sure his actions were having an impact.

Similarly, the Israelites were disappointed that God wasn’t watching their impressive tactics. God didn’t seem to be responding to their fasting and displays of humility. But the prophet tells us the people’s religious practices were having no impact on the rest of their lives, or their interaction with other people.

“You serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers,” says God through Isaiah. “You fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist.” Yet you act as if you “were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance” of your God.

“As if,” God says. The Israelites acted as if they were following God’s ways. They were putting on a façade, trying to fool God into seeing them as more faithful than they truly were. It sounds like they may have managed to fool themselves a little, but I’m sure they weren’t fooling the workers whom they were oppressing, and they certainly weren’t fooling God. He saw right through them, as God tends to do.

Here we see the wisdom of the world again, which is about manipulation and domination, competition and judgment. It’s about putting on a façade to please the people who might be useful to us.

But the façade didn’t work for the Israelites, and it doesn’t work for us. We cannot be at peace with ourselves when we’re hiding behind a veneer of false virtue. We cannot be in real relationship with others if we aren’t interacting with them honestly. We cannot be in real relationship with God if our faith has no impact on the way we live and our dealings with other people.

In contrast, Paul reminds us that the wisdom of God is about vulnerability, relationship, and service. God’s wisdom is revealed to us in the cross of Christ, where God forgives our sin and reconciles us to himself, despite our unworthiness.

This kind of wisdom makes no sense in a world focused on climbing a ladder of merit and conforming to others’ expectations. We can only speak of God’s wisdom “in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit,” Paul says.

This wisdom of God, the cross of Christ, frees us from the need to put on a mask and hide ourselves. The cross of Christ frees us to be genuine, because we recognize that God has made us who we are. The cross of Christ frees us to acknowledge our sin, because we know it no longer defines us when God forgives us.

The cross of Christ frees us to be what Christ makes us: the salt of the earth and the light of the world, as we hear in our gospel reading. This is not just a different mask to put on—we don’t have to work to appear salty enough and bright enough so people think we’re Christian enough. This is simply who we are, by virtue of our relationship with God through Christ. We are those blessed and sent by Jesus, whose light shines through us into a dark world.

Being salt and light is not about glorifying ourselves. Salt isn’t all that useful by itself—its value lies in its application to other things. The point of salt as seasoning isn’t for a dish to taste salty, but for the salt to enhance the other flavors. The point of salt as a preservative isn’t to end up with a collection of salt, but for the salt to keep other food safe to eat. The point of salt on our roads isn’t to enjoy the crunchy sound under our tires, but to improve our safety by melting ice and providing traction.

The same is true of light—the point of turning on a lamp isn’t to stare at the light bulb, but to illuminate whatever else is in the room. The call to be salt and light is a call to draw attention to God as the source of all goodness, justice, and love.

Being salt and light is not about benefiting ourselves. Jesus calls us the “salt of the earth” and the “light of the world,” not the salt and light of our own individual lives.

God blesses those whom God calls, but God’s blessing doesn’t stop there. It extends to all people, just as it did long, long ago when God called Abraham. “I will make of you a great nation,” God said, “and I will bless you…and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Genesis 12). The call to be salt and light is not for our gain, but for the sake of the world.

The Israelites discovered why God wasn’t paying attention to their fasting and public displays of humility. God said that wasn’t the kind of fast he wanted. Instead, God asks,

“Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?”

God redefines fasting from a periodic, individual practice to an ongoing, social practice. Being salt and light is about caring for others so that the light of God “breaks forth like the dawn” and all people can know the blessing of God’s healing and abundance and love.

Being salt and light is not just a solitary calling. It is a communal calling for the body of Christ, empowered and enlivened by God for the benefit of the world. It is a call we receive here in worship, and a call that flows back into worship. Love of God and love of God’s people are intertwined. Acts of love and service lead us to worship, and worship leads us out into the world to continue to love and serve. The two facets of God’s kingdom cannot be separated.

Jesus warns us that salt may lose its taste. In fact, salt is a very stable compound that really only loses its taste when it’s diluted with water. This is why we return here to worship again and again, where we meet Christ in the word and at the table. Here God reminds us who we are and whose we are. Here God renews us in our call and strengthens us for our work. And here God sets us apart to be faithful to the wisdom of God rather than the wisdom of the world. This is how we avoid becoming too diluted.

And it works. God is at work here, making you into salt and light. I know of some magnificent care packages assembled at the Dale Advent Festival and delivered to folks who can’t make it to worship anymore. I know of a family in need who were adopted by the Holden WELCA at Christmas. I know the visitation for [name] on Friday was full of people from around here who drove all the way to [location] to support a grieving family. I see plenty of evidence that you are salt and light, and I know there’s much more happening that I’m not aware of!

You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. This is what Christ has made you, and continues to make you, and you are living your calling. I invite you to be on the lookout for God at work in your midst, sending people to be salt and light for you. And I invite you to continue to let your light shine before others so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. Amen.