On the low bar of faith
Epiphany 5A | Matthew 5:13-20
Last week, we dove into the Beatitudes: Blessed are the poor in spirit, the mourners, the meek, the hungry for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted. We heard Jesus speak of blessing in conviction, in alignment with the Way of Love, in neighborliness and support. And this week, the gospel continues straight from that moment. Hear it together:
“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. 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.”
If you were focused mostly on the first line about people reviling and persecuting and saying awful things, I don’t blame you one bit. That stuff is distracting. I mean, when people talk trash it shuts me right down.
And if you were focused on the salt part, I get that too because you might be on heart medication and your doctor is like “cut out the salt” and “stop eating the fried foods” and this is triggering because they may as well be telling you to stop tasting your food. I get it.
But if we’re focusing on the discomforts, we’re bound to miss the arc of what Jesus is saying here. He’s comparing all of these people to the prophets. All of them. Not the special, the elect — the ones who were picked to memorize the Torah. No, the crowds of nobodies and no-names; the fishermen, the women, the disabled and ostracized.
They are like the prophets.
So then, how does the world treat the prophets? Well, that’s a little complicated. Temple leadership likes the prophet — as long as they say good things about the Temple. As long as they speak of its greatness and how much God blesses them. When the prophets don’t, however, they turn, condemn, destroy.
But the Temple leaders aren’t “the world”. The people regard the prophets with awe and respect. And, depending on how much they depend on the Temple for their safety, their own experience of the prophets is often tied into keeping them happy.
So, if we’re being honest, people don’t like the truth when it doesn’t align with our values, our desires, or our vision of how the world should be. Prophets are truth-tellers. And not as the common synonym for having poor social skills or a bad habit of being a jerk to people because you can’t keep your mouth shut. Truth-telling in the most difficult way possible: a way that doesn’t align with political parties, national interests, or the blessed independence of pure individualistic ideology. Prophets tell the truth about God and why we’re always screwing up that relationship.
Jesus is telling the people gathered that this wisdom that prophets have, that reveals the truth, that shares the divine reality with humanity, is here. They have access to it right now. It is good! And the powerful will hate it!
Don’t Lose It!
Jesus calls them the salt of the earth — a phrase that is often used to describe somebody’s proximity to the earth, to nature, to normal — a groundedness we might say. We treat it as a specific kind of humble compliment. Much like “middle America” is the preferred American, the true American, the kind of American we’re told we’re supposed to be. As extrapolations go, this is probably C-level work. I’d give it a passing grade, but it is thoroughly uninspired and missing a lot of context.
Salt is extraordinary. It is essential.
In Salt Fat Acid Heat, Samin Nosrat describes salt as the definition of seasoning. You season at every stage of the process — because it changes the molecular composition of the dish each time. You season the vegetables before you put them in the fat. You season them when you put them on heat. And you season them when you add the acid. It isn’t something you merely toss on at the end, but what brings vibrant life out of the food.
When Jesus warns about losing our saltiness, he’s speaking to vibrancy, excitement, the very essence of living. The kind of thing utilitarians treat as expendable — that life itself is worth living. What Jesus refers to as Eternal Life.
Don’t lose it, because when it’s gone, it’s gone.
The Light of the World
It’s a different metaphor, but “the light of the world” is adjacent to “salt of the earth”. Jesus is “the light shining in the darkness” and “the light coming into the world.” Jesus is now telling the people that they, too, are light. The very light that illumines the world. It shouldn’t be lost on us that Jesus, the light, is calling the people the light. This, too, is connected to the meek inheriting the world, the peacemakers being the children of God, and the poor in spirit and the persecuted possessing the kingdom of heaven. It is mutual ownership through humility, compassion, and love. A commitment to living and embracing the need for our neighbors to live too.
It is easy to treat the light of the world like a burden. Like something embarrassing or uncouth. Our public separation of church and state and the mythical culture war make talking about anything Jesusy in public like pulling teeth. We often cast this as a matter of hiding the light that the old song tells us we need to let it shine.
Our being light has little to do with quoting Jesus and everything to do with being like Jesus in the world. And what does he spend his time doing? Telling stories to outcasts about how awesome the world will be when we get our junk together. He heals the sick and eats with people. A lot. Eating with people is one of his favorite things. And once in a while he breaks the rules in a synagogue or makes a ruckus in the Temple. For the most part, though, he shows what the world can be. Who we can be.
Exceed the Low Bar
All of this is within the Law, Torah. Not as new teaching or replacement. Fulfillment.
The “this” in that statement isn’t just Jesus. It is about the whole Christ Event — the Jesus Project. It is how the people are like the prophets of old, the salt of the earth and the light of the world. They are the embodiment of the Law in Jesus. They are how the Good News is shared and the Kin-dom becomes our world. The people.
And to truly get this, we have to understand that some people are in the way of this reality. Not bad people. Not demons of stories. Neighbors who have chosen to keep the Kin-dom as idea, a perfect dream that could never be realized. Who choose the way of earthly power and a commitment to violence, wealth, and oppression.
Jesus tells the crowd of thousands gathered at the base of a mountain that they are the light already. They just have to clear the low bar set for them by these cynics and supposed realists. The Temple leaders, Rome enablers, and imperialist oppressors — all those who teach the people, the very light of the world, that they live in darkness. Who teach them not to love God and neighbor as themselves. Who teach them to reject the refugee and shun the immigrant. These are commandments they are subverting.
And today, we hear the same teaching, couched as faithful, don’t we? Always a backwards vision of love that feels like abuse, or somehow supporting immigrants by shunning them. Demonizing our neighbors and calling it locker room talk.
Jesus says to exceed that low bar. Be better than that.
Better
I really don’t like that phrase, to be honest. When people say to one another “be better.” It is scolding, condescending, and almost always lacks the clarity of how. It is neither generous nor inclusive. But what Jesus is doing here is different — and rhetorically useful. He has quite literally told them to be better than the people who come in last. Place in front of them. We might say to each other: strive for what this good group of people is doing and you’ll be fine.
We might also invoke the message Jesus says later in the gospel of John, when speaking of the Way that he is going, Thomas asks how they will know the way and Jesus says they already know. They know because they are following him now. Listen, and you’ll figure it out.
Being better than the hypocrites, the haters, and the violent oppressors is really quite easy. It really is just not doing that stuff!
But it can feel harder than that because we might feel alone or unsupported. We might be tempted to do what everyone else is doing or what we were taught to do, by parents, school, or mentors. Or, as we’re seeing, we can get all tied up in partisan politics and think it is binary: one or the other.
And to this, Jesus assures us: we are salt and light. Prophets. Children of God, inheritors of the earth. We are these things in the truth, in the living, in being the very love of this blessed world. In the sandwiches we make and the casseroles we bake, in the cans of soup, the bags of rice, and the ramen noodles we collect for the food pantry. We are light when we show compassion. When we let our guard down and reach out in love or when we show up to protect the innocent.
Jesus shows us the way. And we already know how to follow. The rest is just showing up.