February 5th is my mom’s birthday. Was I should say. It was her birthday. Do you still have birthdays in eternity? The counting would get impossible, I would think. And every day is like a birthday when you’re in the presence of the Light that loves. So, probably not. But we remember. Here in this life, the life we shared with her for most of our lives, we remember that this day is special. It is her day, the day of her. As if every day wasn’t of her. As if somehow her birthday is a different grief, a different experience of the loss of her. I was asked recently if I wouldn’t rather be somewhere else than where I currently serve. If perhaps the grief I carry would be less in a new place, the memories of what I’ve gone through here could be set aside in the transition. Which frankly, seemed like a terribly naive understanding of grief and struggle and loss. Like you could run away from it. Like, yes I was in this place when this hurt happened so going to a new place would remove the hurt.
We carry with us, wherever we go, the accumulated hurts and joys that make up our lives. We carry with us the conflicts engaged and the love shared no matter where we are. I remember conversations I had as a child, as a youth, throughout my life, they remain with me, these encounters, for good or for ill. I am who I am because of the light that has shown on my life. I am flavored by the salt that has been sprinkled on me and over me, sometimes by surprising people in breathtaking moments. Or as Elphaba sang to Glenda, I am who I am because of the handprints on my heart from those who flowed into and sometimes out of my life. My mom is but one, brightest perhaps, but only one of those lights that shown.
Matthew 5:13-20 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 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. 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.
Jesus turns, in the sermon on the mount, from blessing to instruction. From beautitude, with a surprising hope and a sharp warning, to a call to live into the life we’ve received. That’s what the rest of the sermon is about. Claiming a legacy, living out the gift that has been given. And it isn’t presented as a possibility, but rather as a reality. You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. Not you could be if you do it right, or you might be if you choose to do so. But, you are. You are. Already are. You are shining, you are seasoning. So why not be aware of it? Why not choose your flavor? Why not select your lumens?
Certainly there is a choice to be made here, I don’t mean to imply that it’s all done and nothing needs to be done on our part. He wouldn’t be telling us this if it were automatic. If it were built in and we don’t need to engage anything to make it happen. No, something is built in, the mechanism is at work. But we get to decide something. We get to choose what kind of light we want to shine on others. We get to choose what flavor we give to God’s world.
Which is another point to note. God’s world. Thankfully, we’re in Matthew’s Gospel and not in John, or in the letters of Paul. In those latter works the world comes across as the antithesis of the kingdom. And that our main responsibility is to stay clean from the dirty world that surrounds us, to stay aloof and unattached. But in Matthew, the world is God’s, it is the arena within which we are called to live and work. It is where we encounter God at work and then roll up our sleeves and choose to work alongside, helping the kingdom be experienced in the reality of this life. So, you are the light of the world, not some heavenly other-worldly place, not some reality that we conjure up in our minds and souls longing to be taken out of here so at last we let the light shine without fear, because all there will be is light. No, we are light here where there are shadows, where there is darkness, that is where the light is needed. And where light is possible. We’ve seen it. We’ve been led by it, redeemed by it, loved by that light. And that happened here in this world.
So, get out of your bushel! Get out of your bucket. Let your light shine. Get connected with those who don’t know what you know, who slink around in the shadows because the light seems to painful, too unwelcoming, too demanding. And get invested in their lives, help them find their way into the glorious relationship with Christ that you experience every day. Let your light shine!
Yet, we hesitate, we wonder. What gives us the right to help shape someone else’s life? What do we know about that life so that we can share it, we can shine it in another’s life? Wouldn’t it be better to just make sure we’ve got it right? Isn’t my real responsibility to myself, my faith, my walk with Christ? After all “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” Paul wrote. Thanks Paul (Philippians 2:12). And if there is fear and trembling in working out my own, there must be stark raving terror in working out someone else’s. Right?
Except that’s how this thing works. No one works out their own salvation, we are in this together. We are influenced and we influence. That’s how it is supposed to be. That verse from Paul was never meant to be a call for spiritual isolationism. It is more a recognition that there is a process here. That we are patterning our life after the One we follow. And He tells us that the pattern is to be found in the law. Don’t give up on the law, that’s why he shifts into that here. We’re not done with the law, it’s there as a pattern, as a model. It’s role too is to help us know when we’re off track, not to drop a hammer, not to point a finger or cast into outer darkness. Because none of us are good enough by that measure. We can’t earn our salvation by the law. But law draws a picture of what life ought to be like in God’s kingdom. It casts a vision of what the community could look like if we are all letting our light shine, if we are all guided by the Spirit.
So take the law seriously, says Jesus, let it help you figure out what it means to be the light of the world, to be the salt of the earth. Pay attention to how the law tells us to live in community, caring for others, welcoming the stranger, sheltering the refugee, building up the body, comforting the grieving, binding up the broken. The law draws a picture of what living in the light looks like. But it’s better if we don’t just read the law, but see it at work. We’ve all had the light shined on us by those who have gone before. And we are better because of it.
So, Happy Birthday mom, you were the light that shined the brightest in my life. The one who showed me how to live, the one who showed me how to love. And though I miss you terribly, that light is not gone. Because I have it now. And I pray every day that I am letting it shine, just like you did. Just like He did.
Shalom,
Derek
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