Last weekend, I was at a community choir event when I saw an older man wearing a sweatshirt that read: “Be salty. Stay lit.” My first thought was, “I wonder if he knows that passage is coming up in our lectionary next week!”
It’s always fun to see the Bible “out in the wild.” When I was in seminary, an author – I can’t remember who – talked about reading scripture in random parts of town just to see if the context changed the meaning. For instance, I imagine that reading about Jesus’ trial before Pontius Pilate in front of a courthouse would be an interesting experience.
During the pandemic, one of my fondest memories was reading Psalm 84 during an outdoor service, as the birds sang around us in the trees:
Even the sparrow finds a home
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
my King and my God.
When I saw that man’s sweatshirt – “Be salty, stay lit” – I was in a warehouse venue space singing with a bunch of musical theatre nerds. But only a day earlier, I was outside a very different warehouse. And I couldn’t help but think about it then.
On that day, I went to pray with a group of other Christians in front of a warehouse-turned-immigrant detention center. Though we were on public property, as we sang and prayed, we were increasingly being surveilled by federal officers. And by the time I opened my eyes and turned toward the building, the anti-terrorism agents had arrived. When our service ended, we quietly scrambled back to our cars; but I spent the next few days worrying that they were coming for me.
When I read, “Be salty, stay lit,” on a man’s sweatshirt the next day, I was in a context of raising my voice in song. But I couldn’t stop thinking about raising my voice in song at that other warehouse – about what it meant to live my faith boldly and in public.
What do these words call us to? Let’s see if we can figure it out…
Our Matthew reading today is just a little piece of a much bigger teaching, which we often refer to as the Sermon on the Mount. It comes immediately after the Beatitudes, which we talked about last week. And what follows it, is a series of teachings that expand the Ten Commandments.
A Torah scholar in my Bible study group points out that the Sermon on the Mount is a direct reference to Exodus, with Jesus paralleling Moses and the “crowds” paralleling the Israelites. In addition to the Exodus reference, the “city on a hill” language in our passage is a direct reference to Isaiah. In Isaiah chapter 2, the prophet reveals God’s vision for all people:
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.”
In these subtle and not-so-subtle parallels, Jesus is revealing himself as the fulfillment of the story of the God of Israel. He is in the direct line of its patriarchs and prophets, and intends to follow its ethical and religious commands.
Up to this point in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus has been focused on his own identity and call. But in these verses about salt and light, we receive his first instruction to “the crowd,” This crowd includes all of us, who gather before the altar of Christ today.
How he phrases his first call to action is surprising. Instead of telling us to “do” something, he tells us that we “are” something.: “You are salt, and you are light.” In other words, you are called to rise to who you were made to be, to use your intrinsic properties – your gut, your conscience, your mind, your body, and your soul – for the good of the Gospel.
You are the salt of the earth. As a matter of who you are, you have the power to preserve and sustain those around you; to make things good or to make things rotten; you have the power to make the roadway safe or slippery; you have the power to bring healing.
You are the light of the world. Like a spotlight in a darkened theater, you have the power to make meaning for others; to direct their gaze to where the real story is taking place; you expose what was in shadow; how you move and what you focus on shows others what really matters.
So…will you be discerning? Pouring out your life-sustaining salt to provide for those around you? Or will you be careless? Using too much or too little in ways that cause rot and bitterness?
Will you be bold? Shining a light that casts away the dark shadows of sin and death in this world? Or will you be distracted? Putting a spotlight on unimportant things that distance you and others from the love of God?
You are salt, and you are light – you were made to share the good news of God’s freedom, abundance, and love. Your choice is not to become, but to properly use your intrinsic call.
In the earliest versions of our strategic plan, our mission statement said that we wanted to be a “community lighthouse.”
As a congregation literally sitting “on a hill,” we want to be like a light that pulls people away from danger, and toward safe harbor. When we workshopped this, a few people noted that the image of a lighthouse made no sense in our landlocked context. So, you’ll see our current form of the mission statement reads a little bit differently:
Rooted in Christ’s vision of reconciliation, mutual care, and love of neighbor, the Hill is a beacon of God’s love in southeast Austin.
A beacon can be a lighthouse, but it’s broader than that…The basic definition of a beacon is: “a fire or light set up in a high or prominent position as a warning, signal, or celebration.” But I came across an alternate meaning online. A beacon can also describe “a hill suitable for a beacon of fire or light.”
I believe the desire of all of our hearts is to make this church on the hill suitable for a beacon of fire or light. We want this place to be a home to the Holy Spirit, so often depicted as fire. We want it to be as life changing as the burning bush, from which God called Moses to deliver his people from slavery.
We want the light of Christ to remind us that we are salt, and we are light. So that we can act as beacons that shine a light on the lost and endangered, and help them find safety. And, so we can invite others “to taste and see that the Lord is good.”
As we let our strategic plan guide us in the coming years, today’s scripture reminds us that God has already made us exactly who we need to be for this world, in this moment.
Our choice is not about becoming a beacon. It is about turning our spotlight on the story of God, as it is revealed to us through the patriarchs, prophets, and commandments. And in the incarnate Christ – whose first act of ministry was to heal the sick, the suffering, and the lost.
Be salty. Stay lit. Amen.
Thanks to Andrew McGowan’s substack, Warren Carter for The Working Preacher, my colleagues, and my Bible Study group for the insight.
Leah Wise 