Salt and Light - Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
Author: Pastor Scott Schul
February 08, 2026
“At long last, NOW everything will
be alright.” This is what I’m sure many
were saying as the Babylonian Exile was finally ending, and the Israelites were
wending their way home after decades of forced exile from their families,
communities, and way of life. For generations
they had prayed for an end to that ordeal, confident that once it was over,
their problems would end. But as our
first lesson revealed, the end of the crisis didn’t suddenly mend everything within
the nation or their faith communities. There was serious trouble in paradise. Through the prophet Isaiah, God called out the hypocrisy of the people’s
faith, as they publicly proclaimed and displayed a perfect piousness and
holiness that was completely unrelated to the way they privately treated
one another.
Of course, the Israelites of that
era weren’t unique. In every age,
people have begged, prayed, and promised that if only God would bring an end to
the current crisis, they would reform their behavior once and for all, and THEN
all would be well. We know what that
looks like, don’t we? Do you remember
how full the churches were after 9/11? And when Grace closed during the pandemic, do you remember how we longed
to be back together here in the sanctuary? Do you remember our excitement when we were able to sing hymns together
again? And do you recall that first Sunday
when we could receive communion again? How often did we pray for the pandemic’s end, confident that once it was
over, all the world’s problems would be just a memory? But how full are churches now?
People have proven to be pretty
much the same throughout history. Whether
it’s a national calamity or a personal crisis like an illness,
whenever we are scared and fear that all is lost, we approach our faith and our
relationship with God with great seriousness. But when the crisis has passed, we go back to our old patterns and our
old habits. It happened in Isaiah’s day,
it happens in ours, and it has happened in every historical era.
It even happened in Jesus’s
day. The New Testament offers endless
examples of how the disciples, Jesus’s inner circle, the very people who knew
him best and spent the most time alongside him, regularly failed him, abandoned
him, quarreled among themselves, and looked down on outsiders because of their
ethnicity, history, profession, or beliefs.
This is simply the consequence of
fallen humanity. In every age, God’s
people talk the talk (at least for a little while) but inevitably struggle to
walk the walk. It’s the difference
between being “religious” and being authentically faithful; the
difference between just saying you’re a Christian and truly being a follower of Jesus and his Way; and the difference between merely going to church
and being the church in word and deed.
But let’s not be content to leave
this as a problem we can diagnose but never solve. And let’s not comfortably conclude that this
problem only describes “other people.” This is about all of us. Hearing
that may feel uncomfortable, but whether or not we admit it out loud, I think we
can all recognize both the truth of it, and the problem of it. There is a disconnect between the world we want to live in, and the world we actually live in, and that’s causally related
to the disconnect between the lives Jesus calls us to live, and the
lives we are actually living.
So let’s go beyond mere diagnosis
and see if Jesus has a solution to offer us. Because again, this isn’t a new phenomenon. It was a problem in Isaiah’s day, and it
was a problem Jesus identified in his followers too. And so in our Gospel lesson, as part of the
Sermon on the Mount, Jesus approaches the issue by focusing his followers on
their identity, and by helping them to see themselves with his eyes of
holy wisdom. He says to them, “you are
the salt of the earth,” and “you are the light of the world.”
It was the great Lutheran
theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in his book Discipleship, who grasped
the significance of Jesus’s words. He
notes that Jesus didn’t say, “You should be the salt,” or “you have the potential to be the salt.” And he doesn’t say “you possess salt.” No. You ARE salt. Right now. “You are salt! I’ve made you so.” It’s the same with light. Jesus doesn’t say that you should be, might be, or could be light. You ARE
light. It’s who you are. You can run, hide, and cover up that light,
but by Christ’s grace you cannot deny or escape your true identity. You are light.1
Well alright,
but so what? Well, as Pastor Hetrick
noted last week, salt and life are essential components of life and
survival. Salt keeps our body chemistry
in balance and, especially in Jesus’s day, was a vital food preservative. And light? Well, without the sun nothing grows. And we all know how edgy we can get in winter, when sunlight is
diminished. To some extent our entire
world holds together because of salt and light. And so Jesus is saying that you, me, and all his followers, are equally essential to the world’s wellbeing. Because we are salt and light.
That big
snowstorm a few weeks ago reminded in other ways of the importance of salt and
light. I needed salt to melt the ice on
my driveway. Salt that was diluted and incapable
of melting ice was worthless to me. Likewise, I needed the sun’s rays to be sufficiently concentrated to
further melt the ice. Sun concealed by
clouds was just a useless shiny object in the sky. Have we diluted the holy “saltiness” Jesus
gave us? Have we concealed our light
behind clouds of indifference or distraction?
So let’s
take Jesus at his word when he says that we ARE salt and light. Individually and collectively he has given us
everything we need to be a blessing and to eliminate that disconnect between
the world as it is and the world as we wish it to be. And in that process, and by God’s grace, we
then eliminate that disconnect between the people we are and the people Christ
called us to be. That’s how salt
and light work; they achieve their value when they give themselves away for the
benefit of others. Salt and light are
what we are. That’s our identity and our calling. That’s why our
faith isn’t just a philosophy or a good intention; it’s an action, a way
of life.
Be careful you don’t conflate this
issue with salvation. Of course we are
saved by grace, not our works. But God’s grace should spur a change in us that leads us to a new way of
living. Theologian Gustaf Wingren once
summarized Martin Luther’s theology and our Lutheran understanding of grace and
good works this way: “God does not need our good works, but our neighbor does.”2 So, friends, let’s not just complain about
our broken world, or pray for someone else to fix it. Jesus has called us.
Deep down, I think we each know
what a life of salt and light, a life of discipleship, looks like. But let me lay it out plainly. It’s a life of loving God through regular prayer
and worship. It’s a life of loving our
neighbor by rolling up our sleeves and getting involved. It’s a life in which we commit our time and,
yes, our money, to supporting the church in this mission, because we’ll
always be able to accomplish more together than we ever can separately. It’s a life of seeking and offering forgiveness. And it’s a life lived humbly and gently,
marked more than anything else by love.
Are you living a life of salt and
light? Today, Jesus invites us to honestly
assess that question and to correct our course as necessary. If that seems daunting, talk to Jesus. He will understand, and he will help. Because he loves us and he knows
that when we are saltiest and brightest, both we and our world are at our very best. That’s why he ensured that we are salt. And we are light. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Citations
1 Bonhoeffer, Discipleship, pp. 110-114 (Fortress Press,
2003).
2 Wingren, Luther on Vocation, p. 10 (Wipf & Stock, 1957,
2004); see also Luther’s Works Vol. 75, pp. 41-48 (Concordia,
2013) - Luther’s Church Postil sermon
for Advent 1.
Sermon Text: Gospel plus Isaiah 58:1-9a
Gospel Text: Matthew 5:13-20
[Jesus said:] 13 “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.
14 “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill
cannot be hid. 15 People do not light a lamp and put it under
the bushel basket; rather, they put it on the lampstand, and it gives light to
all in the house. 16 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.
17 “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the
Prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. 18 For
truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one
stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. 19 Therefore,
whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do
the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them
and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20 For
I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and
Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
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