Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

This Gospel reading this weekend is the first in a series of five or six, each of which takes up right where the one before left off. So from now on, really, till Lent, there is a sort of continuous block of readings that make up nearly two complete chapters of the Gospel of Matthew. Matthew, more than any of the other three evangelists was apparently very much taken with the words of Christ. He will pass over fairly lightly even the more spectacular miracle stories and cures, but he never seemed to miss the chance to record a speech. In fact, if the incident with which he is dealing doesn't happen to have a speech in it, he will make one up, by patching together bits and pieces from other incidents. Christ's words, his teaching, impressed Matthew deeply, and he went to great pains to reconstruct that teaching carefully, and thoroughly.

Over the past couple of Sundays, we have been presented with the first few steps of Christ's mission. His calling of the Apostles, his first encounter with the religious establishment of the time, and last week the first revelation of the heart of his message, the Beatitudes.

So now, really, the stage had been set for everything else that the Gospels contain. Christ, and his Apostles had put themselves on the line. His radically new vision of God, and of human beings, and of the world, had been publicly laid out, and there was nothing to do now but push ahead to the conclusion of the drama.

But before he does that, Christ calls his Apostles aside for some time spent in teaching meant particularly for them. It is almost as though Christ already knew that much of what he would say and do and have done to him in the sight of the world would confuse, and embarrass, and even anger the people to whom he spoke. He would speak in parables, sometimes even in riddles, with a mixture of blessings and curses. He would be speaking and acting in a way almost calculated to keep the authorities off guard, off balance... now making a point clearly, now sort of verbally fencing with them, buying some time.

So it was important right from the start that those who were his disciples, those who would be speaking for him, and with him, it was important that they not be confused, at least not as much. They, at least, must be instructed clearly, no parables, no riddles, just the heart of the vision that would fire them as surely as it had fired him.

And so he did. In this series of readings, Christ is pictured as giving his disciples just such instructions. In language that is clear and simple and direct, he tells them just what they are to do, how they are to act.

And Christ begins these instructions by setting up for his disciples two images, the image of salt, and the image of light.

For the people of Christ's time, the image of salt would have been a considerably richer one than it is for us. Salt was a very valuable commodity. It was the only way they had of preserving any food, and in the climate of that desert country, food that was unsalted would spoil in a matter of hours, become useless, fit for nothing, as the reading puts it, but to be thrown out, and trampled underfoot. Then too, in that climate, a certain amount of salt had to be eaten everyday, just to stay alive and healthy. So salt was very precious. So much so that it was frequently used as money. The Roman soldiers that occupied Judea, and other eastern countries, would often be paid their wages in salt. We still have the saying in English that so and so is really worth his salt.

So it was an image that must have captured their attention, given them a sense of the depth, the importance of their role. To be called the "salt of the earth" was no small commission.

So salt preserves. It maintains health and strength. But even more than that, it enhances, it makes things better. It brings out the true flavor, the true goodness of whatever it seasons.

And light. That is certainly a familiar Scriptural image, and one that really doesn't need to be interpreted. Christ explains it himself. A lamp does no good for anyone if you light it and then cover it up with a basket. In fact, a lamp really isn't a light at all, if it isn't out in the open where people can see it, and benefit from the fact that it shows the way.

Well, in this, and for the next few weeks, the point is made over and over. It becomes pretty clear. Today it is we who are the disciples to whom Christ gives these instructions. It is we who are sent out into the world to take his place, to do what he did, say what he said. It is we who must take these images to heart, and be for the world salt and light. We must season one another, bring out the goodness in one another.

And for us, as for those original disciples, that is no small commission. In every situation in which we find ourselves, we must think of ourselves as having been sent there, truly to encourage goodness in those whose lives we touch.

In any relationship, in any setting, at work, at recreation, at school, in casual contacts, our role is the same... to preserve, to strengthen, to encourage goodness, and to enlighten, to dispel darkness and shadows. That is what salt and light do. And we are to be the salt and light of the earth.

Well, fine. That is a noble mission, and on the pages of Scripture, it seems to fit well. But we don't live on the pages of Scripture. And too many times, these words of Christ, as do so many others, just seem too idealistic. They seem to go against the grain of our experience, experience that seems to teach us that all too often we have to compromise with our ideals. It can seem pretty far-fetched and extreme to expect that we can call anyone to all that much goodness.

There is a simple answer to that. It is yes. Indeed it is idealistic. Indeed it does go against the grain of our experience. Indeed it is far-fetched and extreme. As far-fetched and extreme as the Beatitudes in last Sunday's Gospel, as far-fetched and extreme as Christianity itself. At the heart of it, ours is not a religion of reasonable compromises. Ours is very much a religion of radical extremes. Extreme enough to believe that God became human, and that in us there is now to be found divine goodness. Extreme enough to believe that there is nothing, not even death, not even crucifixion, that can overcome the strength of that goodness. Extreme enough to insist that simple, weak human beings can indeed love their enemies, do good to those who hurt them, to insist that human beings can indeed live as they have been created, in the image and likeness of God, and that to do so is a value greater than any other imaginable, greater than wealth, power, fame, popularity, comfort, anything.

Well, how do we call people to that? How do we convince them of that? Exactly like the original disciples, we don't. We can never hope to convince anyone of the rightness of our way of life. We can only show them. Christ calls us, after all, to be a light in the world, not a loudspeaker, not a bulldozer. And in the last line of the Gospel, he explains what that must mean. Stand out before people, so that everyone can see goodness in your acts. The only way we will ever invite others to goodness is by ourselves clearly displaying, acting, living out the best that we can be.

So the message then, is simply that. We season creation, we light the way to goodness, by living out that goodness. It is true, really, in any setting in which we find ourselves. The extent to which we center our lives around values, around what is right, and act on that, simply because it is right, quite apart from whether or not it is comfortable, fun, profitable or popular, to that extent we will truly be the salt of the earth. We will season those whom we touch, and we will invite others to respond in the same way, with the goodness that is in them. Not everyone will do that, not always. But most. Most of the time.

So. We will hear this instruction repeated again and again from now till Lent. We are to re-make ourselves, and to do so around uncompromisingly Christian values. We are to approach one another convinced that there is a divine goodness in everyone we meet, and that until we have called that goodness into play, stirred it up, in fact we haven't really met them at all. We will do that by ourselves clearly practicing the goodness we expect to see in others. There simply is no other way.

Readings: Isaiah 58:6-10; 1 Corinthians 2:1-5; Matthew 5:13-16