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| Funeral in South Africa, 1995 |
Text: Matthew 5:13-16
Sara Holben ~ Presbyterian Church of Chestertown
Introduction: The
Gospel Lesson from the Gospel of Matthew is part of the Sermon on the
Mount. Beginning his sermon with the
Beatitudes, Jesus continues to speak directly to his disciples. The Gospel of Matthew, chapter 5, and I will
be reading verses 13 through 16.
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.
As far as job descriptions go, it’s
not much to go on. “You are the salt of
the earth and the light of the world.”
So go … be salt and light.
Which means
what exactly?
I hate when
that happens. I’m always ready to meet
job expectations, to fulfill the responsibilities I am given (after all my
Epiphany star word this year is “responsibility”). But I do
like to know what it is I’m supposed to be doing – and I’m guessing I’m not
alone.
Twenty
years ago this month Bob and I answered a call to go and serve as Presbyterian
mission workers in Cape Town, South Africa.
It was a very exciting time to go to South Africa, but a very uncertain time
as well. After forty plus years of rule
by a government which had written racial separation into its constitution and
enforced it with violence, and after years of negotiations to reach a
transformation in government, in 1994 South Africa was poised for its first
ever democratic elections.
A new constitution had been written
which guaranteed equal rights for everyone regardless of race, Nelson Mandela
was going to be South Africa’s first-ever black president – but in February
1994 when we arrived, two months before the election, no one knew if the
country was going to make a peaceful transition or dissolve into civil
war.
We were going to work with a black
congregation in the township of Guguletu – which had a population of over
300,000 people crammed into shacks and substandard housing, many with no
electricity or indoor plumbing, in an area of approximately 3 square miles. We were to work at a church that was about ½
mile from where an American Fulbright Scholar – Amy Biehl – had been killed by
a mob about 6 months before we arrived.
I actually don’t remember if we ever told our parents that part or not.
In any case, we were going because
we had been invited by the JL Zwane Presbyterian Church to come join their
ministry. The black pastor we were to
work with had a vision to have white Americans come work in the community as a
way of beginning to build new relationships with white people in South
Africa. So he had written job
descriptions that simply said we were to “model a ministry of reconciliation.”
Which means what exactly?
Even now, 20 years later, I’m hard
pressed to explain what that might mean.
To be honest, I don’t think Rev. Spiwo Xapile, our co-worker and
supervisor, had any idea either.
I know more or less what we did –
and most times it wasn’t very spectacular:
although the majorette uniforms that Bob was able to get for a school
were awesome and ask him sometime about the toilets he helped get for them –
and the school rooms that went from holes in the roofs and no desks and windows
to an entire school complex made out of recycled shipping containers.
On the other hand, I drank
thousands of cups of tea sitting in people’s kitchens, where I never ceased to
marvel at people’s faith and resilience and creativity at making do with the
little they had and who never lost hope. We attended far too many presbytery
meetings held in languages we couldn’t understand and as a pastor I averaged 35
funerals a year in a community where the diseases of poverty took far too many
lives.
But over the three years that we
lived and worked there, mostly what we did is learn what it means to show up
and listen. To be present to hear
people’s stories. To help connect visiting American church delegations with
local communities of faith. To bear
witness - not to what we were doing – but to the amazing things that God was
doing through people who had no idea that the simple things they were doing
could transform a community and a nation, even a world.
You are the salt of the earth. You
are the light of the world.
Whether it was those first
disciples sitting on the hillside near the Sea of Galilee, or whether it’s a
congregation in Guguletu or in Chestertown or Malawi or wherever in the world
that people of faith gather, the followers of Jesus are still salt and
light. Bringing signs of God’s new life to those
around them – adding spice and flavor …
called to confront anything that would deny goodness with gentleness,
kindness, mercy and grace, bringing to light for all to see God’s ways of compassion and
forgiveness.
But
notice: Jesus doesn’t say, “IF you want
to become salt and light, do this …”.
Nor does he say: “before I’ll
call you salt and light, I’ll need to see you earning your title …”.
Instead he
simply says: “You are the salt of the
earth. You are the light of the world.”
You who
suffer and thirst for righteousness, you who are poor in spirit, you who show
mercy, who mourn, who are pure in heart … you are already salt and light.
Jesus does not so much give us a
command to go and become something other than we are as much as he gives us …
and all who follow him … a blessing and a commission to go and live in the
world as disciples.
He commissions us to live as salt
and light for the world – not just keeping our own corner of the world tasty
and lit up. But we are meant to live on
behalf of our neighbors – the stranger and alien, the ones who are forgotten
and lost and least. It’s the same thing
Jesus commands at the end of Matthew’s gospel where he tells us: “go
into all the world and make disciples …”.
We do that by living as salt and
light – giving glory to God.
Making disciples is not done just by
those who are trained, qualified and have the certificate.
Sharing God’s good news is not for
only a few who have their theology organized and annotated and can prove their
credentials.
Being disciples of Jesus does not
happen when we’ve achieved some standard that shows we qualify.
Jesus tells us: we are the salt of the earth and light of
the world already. So just be the salt
and light that we already are, with all that we already have, whether it is
with faith as small as a mustard seed or with faith that can move mountains.
Presbyterian poet and pastor
Frederick Buechner writes that Jesus tells us:
Be
the light of the world…. Where there are dark places, be the light especially
there. Be the salt of the earth. Bring out the true flavor of what it is to be
alive. Be truly alive. Be life-givers to others. That is what Jesus tells his
disciples to be. That is what Jesus
tells his church, tells us, to be and do.
Love each other. Heal the sick…. Raise the dead. Cleanse lepers. Cast
out demons. That is what loving each other means [Buechner says]. If the church is doing things like that, then
it is being what Jesus told it to be. [i]
And I would bet we recognize those
things when we see them – whether they are happening here – or in other
congregations out there. Or maybe it is
something that you have seen in your Uncle Will or Aunt Betty or your next door
neighbor or a co-worker or someone you met at school.
Where is it that you have seen someone bringing a word of
healing, or seen someone helping someone else without even being asked? When has a word of hope been spoken, a prayer
of support shared? When has someone
spoken out and spoken up for justice or mercy?
Who do you know who in some small way has been “salt and light”? Where have you seen these places where God is
at work through people?
This past week in getting ready for
this sermon I ran across a website called the “Salt and Light Log.” A pastor had set it up nearly 3 years ago in
response to a challenge someone had given to help people notice where God has
worked through other people, or through particular congregations, or simply out
in the community to be the “salt and light” to help others, to bring hope and
healing, to practice those random acts of kindness and compassion that are part
of what helps knit the world back together and give us a glimpse of the kingdom
of God.
People were asked to post on the “Salt
and Light” website (through a text, an app, an email or a Tweet) when and where
they had seen those examples of God at work through people being “salt and
light.”
A great idea – although on his map
of the world the only examples of “salt and light” that were posted were all
clustered in Ohio and Connecticut, and they all took place in February
2011.
Now, those are both very nice
states, but I have to believe that God is at work in more places than just Ohio
and Connecticut … and that there have been some “salt and light” moments that
have happened since February three years ago. My guess is the pastor (who was
from Connecticut) got some of his members to respond – and probably from a
friend’s church in Ohio. And then most
everyone forgot about it.
So while it didn’t take off as a
world map covered with salt and light – it was still an intriguing notion to
remind us to open our own eyes to see how God is at work around us in the most
normal and ordinary ways, through people and in situations that no one might
see as extraordinary but are the ways in which we all live out our calling each
and every day as “salt and light.”
So I want to invite you to our own
challenge – where have you seen a glimpse of someone who is being “salt and
light” for the world? Is it something you
have seen in another congregation somewhere? Maybe it was someone you
know. Maybe it was someone in your own
family – it might even have been something you’ve done.
Let me know about it this
week. I’m not going to be posting a
world map on our website anytime soon – mostly because our website is down for
right now while it is being completely re-constructed. But if you email me or call me, or stop by
the church someday or stop me around town, or write me a letter, or post it on
our Facebook page … tell me those “salt and light” moments you have seen and
experienced yourself.
That day on a hillside in Galilee,
Jesus commissions his disciples to be salt and light, to simply remind them to be
the people they were called to be, the people whom God had create them to be.
To season the world, to let their light shine so that others would see their
good works and glorify God.
Jesus isn’t asking them to earn
their salvation, but to live out the salvation and discipleship that has been
given them as a gift.
They are invited to come along with
Jesus to be part of the kingdom of God.
That invitation is still the same –
may it always be so.
Amen and amen.
[i]
Excerpt from Frederick Buechner’s sermon “The Church” (originally published in The Clown in the Belfry and also in Secrets in the Dark.)
