Gospel Notes by Michael Whelan SM
“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:13-16 – NRSV)
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Introductory note
This text is part of Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount – see 5:1 – 7:29. It follows immediately after the Beatitudes.
We find a similar use of the metaphor of salt in Mark 9:50 and Luke 14:34–35. However, neither Mark nor Luke use the metaphor of light as Matthew does. Matthew is calling to mind that beautiful text of Isaiah 2:2-5:
“In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. Many peoples shall come and say, ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths’. For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”
In Isaiah 42:6-7 we read:
“I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.”
Our text
…. let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.
We could paraphrase this: Be who and what you are so that the One who made you will shine out of you!
This is the call to witness.
In his remarkable 1975 encyclical, Evangelii Nuntiandi, Paul VI speaks repeatedly of the importance of witness. For example, he says “to evangelize is first of all to bear witness, in a simple and direct way” (#26). And of course there is his memorable statement: “Modern people listen more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if they do listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses.” (#41).
One of the most impressive characteristics of Pope Francis is his witness. He is what he says he is and it shines out of his simple actions. This man acts and speaks with authority because there is depth there. He is not play acting.
My favourite example of this witness is the image of Pope Francis, in the Casal del Marmo juvenile detention centre on Holy Thursday night last year, washing the feet of those young people detained there. Particularly powerful was the moment when he washed and kissed the feet of the young Muslim woman.
When the light shines through genuine witness, not everyone will be pleased. See for example the reaction to this event by one Roman Catholic canon lawyer
Put most simply, Pope Francis is a witness. And the witness of what he does points to the deeper witness of who and what he is. There is great authority in this.
When Jesus says “let your light shine” it is not an invitation to show off, rather it is an invitation to be the person God made you to be.
Identity
In today’s Gospel – Matthew 5:13-16 – we continue with the introduction to the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus focuses on the identity of the disciples. He uses the metaphors of salt and light. Implicit in this description is their calling to join him in building the kingdom of heaven. The description also points to their new way of being. That will be further developed in the rest of the Sermon on the Mount.
If the truth be told, the question of identity, “Who am I?”, and how we respond to that question, begins to shape our lives very early on. This shaping is intimately tied up with at least two other questions and the responses they evoke from us: “What do I really want?” and “What will I do?” The impact of these questions and the manner of our responding, is complex and mysterious.
For those of us who believe in the promise, “I am with you!” and believe further that that promise is fulfilled in the Incarnation, the question of identity cannot be separated from our ongoing encounter with God in the person of Jesus Christ. My identity is discovered, not invented. My true identity is a work of grace.
God speaks to us through experience. The language of God is the experience of our days. We must learn to see and hear and recognise the traces of God everywhere. There is no moment in which God is not there for us. So, we get glimpses of God, moments of light that gradually open us to the truth that we are loved and that we exist for a reason. Facing into that loving presence – dark and forbidding as it may be at times – we slowly grow into the discovery of who we are and what we really want and what we must do.
I may have particular moments in which I experience a deeper sense of who I am, what I want and what I must do. But the discovering never ceases. The metaphor of journey comes to mind. Clearly, the disciples did not have a completed understanding of their identity on the day Jesus said, “You are salt … You are light.” A moment of clarity is a point of departure, not the end. Who I am, is a unique journey into the depths of God’s love. I must expect it to be a journey full of paradoxes, where endings are beginnings, where darkness is light, where not knowing is a way of knowing, where letting go is gaining control, where God’s word of love is always new and surprising. Thomas Merton writes: “If one reaches the point where understanding fails, this is not a tragedy: it is simply a reminder to stop thinking and start looking. Perhaps there is nothing to figure out after all: perhaps we only need to wake up” (Zen and the Birds of Appetite, New York, New Directions,1968, 53).