July 13, 2008- Spicy and in the Spotlight

We find Jesus where we left him last week, in the midst of what is known as the “Sermon on the Mount.”  It is an amazing sermon, and if you have never sat down to read it in its entirety, I encourage you to do that, because it is truly extraordinary.  Jesus has just finished giving the Beatitudes, those revolutionary thoughts that turn the world, as we know it, on its ear.  He has proclaimed as “Blessed,” oh, and I love the King Jamesy term, “bless-ed.”  When Hannah was two she used to say “I walk-ed,” or “he talk-ed to me.”  We called her the King James Hannah. Those little phrases delighted me, and I was sorry when that phase passed.  The Beatitudes are also delightful.   Jesus says blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure of heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted for righteousness or because of his name.  On the surface, they do not seem to be blessed, but as we discovered last week, the Beatitudes are a state of being that is oriented toward God, toward love.  A person who mourns had to love first, those who are merciful or seek righteousness do so out of love of God and neighbor.  These people are blessed, are “bless-ed,” because they are living lives enriched by love. And then Jesus says “you are the salt of the earth, you are the light of the world.” Ordinary things, salt and light; in our world they are everyday sorts of things.  Things easily taken for granted, but oh, so essential. And, I love the way that Jesus had of taking those things, those work-a-day things,  a little salt, a ray of light and calling on them to transform the world.

The brilliant thing about this passage is that there isn’t a single “must” or “ought” to be found.  Jesus does not say “You must become the salt of the earth.”  He doesn’t say  "you ought to be the light of the world." He proclaims, "You are the salt of the earth." He speaks the hopeful, encouraging word, "You are the light of the world."  Now you might have been called “salt of the earth” before, I suspect some of you have.  That phrase conjures up a certain image for us.  When someone is the salt of the earth, they are hardworking, they lack pretension, they are dependable, they are trustworthy, they are plain spoken, stalwart, and strong.  I always think of farmers when I hear the phrase. Maybe it is because it has the word “earth” in it.    I think of hands that are tanned and deeply lined, that smell of fertile soil and that, as if by some wonderous magic that I cannot comprehend, bring forth food, life.  They are hands that have worked, and are beautiful in their strength.  Salt of the earth.

I would guess that few of us have been called “light of the world.”  A few knowing husbands may have called their wives “light of my life,” but “light of the world” well, that is in a whole other league, isn’t it?  So, what did Jesus mean by salt and light?  First of all, we have to understand the function salt had in Jesus’ world.  The exact meaning of the expression salt of the earth is disputed, in part because salt had a wide number of uses in the ancient world. Salt is used in several Biblical passages in different ways. Exodus, Ezekiel, and Kings present salt as a purifying agent, but it is unlikely that this is what Jesus meant.  Leviticus, Numbers, and Chronicles present salt as a sign of God's covenant, but again, that really doesn’t fit with the rest of  the Sermon on the Mount.  One significant factor was that salt was as a preservative and hence the most common interpretation of the metaphor is that Christians are to preserve love in the world.  Additionally, Salt was a minor but essential ingredient in fertilizer and so a few scholars believe that earth should be translated as soil (i.e. salt of the soil), and hence the metaphor asserts that Jesus’ audience should help the world grow in love  and prosper. That sounds more like it.  Both of those interpretations require  the audience to take part in the world rather than withdraw from it.  They require Christians to participate to be salty, spicy. 

An interesting note is that in the Rabbinic literature of the period salt was a metaphor for wisdom.  The phrase interpretted as “lose its saltiness” can also be translated as “become foolish.”  Hmmm.  Salt was incredibly valuable.  Because it was essential as a preservative, at times it cost more per pound than gold.  In addition to being a preservative, salt also imparts flavor to food.  As any good chef will tell you, a meal can be cooked to perfection, with the most exotic and delectable ingredients, but if it isn’t seasoned properly, the meal is unappealing.   I like that.  I like Jesus saying that we are valuable.   So, Jesus was telling us that we are spicy, valuable, wise and agents of love in the world.  Salt of the earth.

Now, while there were myriad uses for salt, light is, well,light.  Now, I am not dismissing this analogy, I am not diminishing it.  Light is a wonderous, powerful thing.  Darkness can be frightening.  I know that when I enter a completely dark room, even if it is in my own home, my heart beats a little faster, and I wonder what is there that I can’t see.  But, light chases away shadows. Light reveals the truth of what night seeks to hide.   In fact, darkness doesn’t really exist at all, it is merely the absence of light.  We, who know and enjoy God’s love must reflect that same love into the world.  We cannot hide its light,  we cannot be full of love in secret.  We are a city, a beacon on a hill, and we illuminate the truth of God’s reign in our world.

Notice that Jesus does not tell his disciples how to be salt and light. He simply says, "You are the salt of the earth.  You are the light of the world.  Be salt, be light, be yourselves. Salt seasons and preserves, light shines and illuminates. Act upon on your nature, your identity as children of God. Just do what you are meant to do. Be authentic.”

I looked it up, and it turns out that salt, sodium chloride, cannot actually lose its saltiness. As often is the case in the parables, there is a subtle, hidden meaning in what looks at first glance like an obvious truth. "If the salt loses its saltiness how can its taste be restored..." But salt doesn’t change. It's a stable compound and can't lose its taste. So why did Jesus make such a puzzling remark? Well, because salt was so very costly in Jesus’ time, there were unscrupulous salt merchants who cut the salt with other materials.  The impure salt was sometimes found to be useless, and was thrown out for paving material.  When the salt was overpowered by the additives, the undesirable elements in the mixture, it was no longer salty.  So, we are the salt of the earth.  We are who we are, but, if we stop dwelling in love, get overwhelmed with the anxieties, the pain and adversity and the mendacity of daily life, our saltiness is diluted.  If we become arrogant, if we distance ourselves from others and from love, our saltiness is diluted.  That love, the source of the spice never changes.  But we sometimes add impurities, sometimes we surround ourselves with things that distract and discourage our focus on living a God oriented life.  Then our mixture is not salty. It is no longer spicy. It no longer nourishes the rich soil of love of God and neighbor. 

As frustrating as it may sound, Jesus did not always give believers specific instructions on how to behave.  Long before theologians got around to articulating the doctrine of the priesthood of all believers, Jesus knew that we are made in the image of God, that we have heads, hands and hearts, and when we orient ourselves to love of God and one another, we are capable of using them to figure out how to act. This is one of those "figure it out for yourself" moments.   Jesus seems to me to be saying, “This is who you are, act accordingly.”

I like the story of a man who went to visit a famous religious center in a very holy place. He was shown all the treasured relics, and then he was shown a hen. The guide said, "This hen is a direct descendant of the cock that crowed when Peter denied the Lord. It is a very important hen." "That's good," said the visitor, "but does it ever lay any eggs?" You see, a hen with a pedigree that does nothing is not as useful  as a hen who fulfills her purpose.   I think the story is an effective tale about identity and function. If we are salt, if we are light, if we are who we are, we will be what we are to be, we will do what we are to do. It is not enough to boast our pedigree, to say “We are followers of Jesus.”  No, we are called to lay our metaphorical eggs, we are called to act as salt and light.

Salt is a seasoning and as such enhances other flavors.  So, too, are Christians called to impact and compliment the lives of their neighbors.  But let's face it – some Christians have just the opposite effect; they do not enhance life; instead they behave in a distant, unhappy, spiritless, or lackluster manner. The great jurist Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "I might have entered the ministry if certain clergymen I knew had not looked and acted so much like undertakers." The author Robert Louis Stevenson once entered in his diary what he consider an extraordinary phenomenon, "I have been to church today and am not depressed.”  Had Holmes or Stevenson encountered light, would their view of the clergy and church have been so dour?  What reflection is has Christian dullness had on the world’s perception of God?

The earth needs salt; the world needs light, but mark well this insight, the salt and the light need the world, as well. Salt and light do not exist for their own sake, but to make a difference and to give glory to God. To make a difference they need the earth to enhance and the world to brighten.  We cannot live apart from the world and fulfill the role.  We have to live fully in the here and now.

But, you know, Jesus didn’t end this passage by just saying that we are salt and light.  He reminded us that we are to do good that glory will be given to GOD.  So, the trick is to be salt and light in just the right way, enhancing and enlightening as a reflection of a life lived in harmony with the will of God.  Think of an art gallery.  The lighting showcases the artwork.  Ideally, guests do not walk  into the gallery and says, “would you look at the lighting, it is amazing.” And salt accentuates the natural flavors of food.  No chef wants to hear a patron that has sat down for a  perfectly cooked steak, inhaled the wonderful aroma, cut into it and watched the juices flow onto the plate, put a bite on their fork, taken it into their mouth, savored its taste say"Wow!  That is some great salt on this steak!" A pinch of salt on a steak, a light above a painting, a gentle word, a generous gesture, love: salt and light. Salt and light work best when they and we are subtle, unobtrusive, but present in an enriching, enhancing, transforming way.

So, let me close where I began, with Jesus' words, this time in a fresh translation:
"Let me tell you why you are here. You're here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste Godliness? Don’t let your saltiness be drowned out by other flavors.”
"Here's another way to put it: You're here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I'm putting you on a lamp stand. Now that I've put you there on a hilltop, on a lamp stand - shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you'll prompt people to open up with God. You are salt, you are light, it's your identity, you cannot stop being who you are, so get on with it. Be salt! Be light! Be who I say you are!"***Amen