Wholly Salt, Wholly Light - Sermon for 9 February 2020

Sermon for Sunday 9 February 2020

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger

Matthew 5:13-20

“Wholly Salt, Wholly Light”

The Rev. Canon Mary June Nestler, presiding at communion in Jerusalem, December 2019

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

At the beginning of the Advent season this past year, I received an unexpected email from a colleague I had never met, another woman in ministry here in Jerusalem. After reading the first line of the email, my thought was: “OMG! Another woman in ministry here in Jerusalem!”

I was beyond thrilled to hear from the Rev. Canon Mary June Nestler, who it turns out has been here for about 18 months serving as course director of St. George’s College in East Jerusalem.

Mary June wanted to introduce herself, but she also had a special request. She was about to celebrate the 40^th anniversary of her ordination as a priest in the Episcopal Church USA, and she wanted to know if she could borrow the Redeemer chapel to celebrate a small private communion service on that anniversary day. I was confused by this request, until I remembered that here in Jerusalem, the Anglican church still does not ordain women, and therefore she was not allowed to preside over communion at St. George’s—even as one of the first 100 women ordained in the US. Even as head of the college. And even on her 40^th ordination anniversary.

Those of you who were with us during the Advent season will remember that I did not allow Mary June to “borrow” the chapel. Instead, we invited her to be with us on the 4^th Sunday of Advent for our regular worship service. It was really something to celebrate with her, to see the joy on her face as she spoke the Words of Institution over the bread and wine and then shared the gift of Jesus’ presence with us all. Thanks be to God for her, and for her continued pastoral and priestly ministry.

A few days before that very special service, Mary June and I shared a long lunch. We talked about what it’s like to be women in ministry in Jerusalem, and especially what it’s like for her to serve a church which does not recognize her as ordained, even as it has hired her to teach in the college. During that conversation, Mary June shared one truth that I will never forget. She said:

“You know, when church leadership asks me not to wear my clergy collar, it’s as if they think that by taking it off, I can take off my priesthood. What they don’t understand is that there’s not just a certain percentage of me that is a priest, and the rest is a woman. I am 100% percent a priest and at the same time 100% a woman. I can’t take off either one of those identities by changing my clothes.”

In the reading we heard this morning from the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus also has something important to say about identity. He tells the disciples:

“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 underfoot. 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.”

Notice that Jesus doesn’t say to the disciples: “You’re a little salty!” Or “You have shiny parts.”   He also doesn’t say “If only you were salt. If only you were light.”

Jesus simply says: You are salt. You are light.

Lutheran pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer noted this fact in his own sermon about the Sermon on the Mount, saying:

“You are the salt—not: You should be the salt! It is not for the disciples to decide whether they are or are not to be salt. Nor is any appeal made to them to become the salt of the earth. They are that salt, whether they want to be or not, in the power of the call they have encountered.

The same one who says of himself in direct speech: “I am the light,” says to his disciples in direct speech: You are the light in your entire lives insofar as you abide in my call. And because you are the light, you can no longer remain hidden, whether you want this or not…”

In other words, we can think of Jesus’ sermon to the disciples not as commandments, but as encouragement. These are really words intended to point out and draw out our true identities. By virtue of our baptisms, by virtue of the light of Christ that shines through us, we are light. We are salt. Full stop.  This is who we are—like it or not, as Bonhoeffer might put it.

Just as the Rev. Mary June knows she is 100% priest and 100% woman, so we have heard the words of Jesus telling us we are 100% salt and light. We are both 100% saint and sinner, because Jesus is 100% human and 100% divine, 100% crucified and 100% risen, thanks be to God.

However, in life, there are so many others who try to tell us who we are and who we are not. My neighbor Shadia told me the story of being at an academic conference where she introduced herself as a Palestinian Christian woman, only to have another person on the panel respond with, “There’s no such thing as a Palestinian.” My friend looked that panelist in the eye and said, “Well I’m sitting right here with you. How do you explain me?”

The powers and principalities from within and from without tell us all sorts of things about who we are or aren’t, and what we can or cannot do: We can’t make a difference. We can’t change our circumstances, our names, or our government. We are women. We are disabled. We are illegal. Our voices don’t matter. Our identities don’t exist. Don’t get too political! Stay in your lane. Don’t upset the status quo.

And still, Jesus says: You are salt. You are light.

And you know what salt and light do? They change things.

Salt changes taste, preserves food, heals wounds, melts snow and ice.

Light disrupts the night, reveals hidden truths, attracts the lost, provides warmth.

Both salt and light get noticed, especially when they show up where they are not expected.

Just as a city upon a hill cannot be hidden, so you also, when you are being who you are—a follower of Jesus, bright and salty—cannot be easily hidden. You’re noticeable. You’re remarkable. And yes, sometimes—just like a city that’s set high upon a hill—you may be vulnerable to attacks. To criticisms. To controversies.

And Jesus says: Still…be salt. Be light. Be wholly you.

After all, there’s really no other choice. Salt can’t really lose its saltiness—it just dissolves. And a light set under a bushel isn’t actually light anymore—it will burn out.

So…Be who you are.

But what does it mean for followers of Jesus to be their own bright and salty selves? A clue might be in our first reading for today. In Isaiah chapter 58, the prophet calls on the people of God to “Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet!”

And then, we read:

“Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.”

In other words, the prophet says that we shine the light of God’s love—we are righteous, we are truly ourselves—when we are concerned with the cares of others and are working for the liberation and justice for all people.

Also for Jesus, the bright and the salty ones he’s speaking to are the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and those who receive abuse for standing up for what is right. The bright and the salty are those who know they are set high upon a hill, and therefore don’t even try to hide, but instead speak truth to power, season the world with the Word of God, and shine the light of God’s love on every dim corner where injustice and oppression try to grow and flourish.

And yes, people will see you. Yes, people will disagree with you. People will oppose you.

Even so, this salty brightness looks like church members Cody and Lara and our friends of the Good Shepherd Collective, who stay with Bedouin families, often sleeping in their camps with them so they will not be demolished.  Or so they will at least have friends with them when their homes are flattened.

This salty brightness looks like teenager Greta Thunberg, who shines her bright light into the world so we can no longer ignore the truth of what is happening to our earth, skies, water, and fellow creatures.

It also looks like Pope Francis turning a 19^th century Vatican palace into a homeless shelter, even though other church leaders wanted to turn it into a money-making hotel.

That’s pretty salty, I have to say.

Sister Joan Chittister wrote: “Our role in life is to bring the light of our own souls to the dim places around us.” 

What does that look like in your life? Whose life could be brightened when you bring your full, God-given, forgiven, self to the table, to the workplace, to your relationships, to the halls of power—in all your saltiness, and all your brightness?

I admit, some days, being your whole self feels like a huge task. Some days, there are those who will oppose you, persecute you, revile you, all on Christ’s account. But Jesus says: You already have what it takes. You, too, have what it takes to illumine someone’s else’s path. You have what it takes to season the world with justice. You have what it takes to be an ambassador of peace and love. You have what it takes, because you are 100% salt, 100% light, 100% loved, and 100% saved through the cross of Christ.

May the peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.