While there is wisdom in those two guidelines, there are plenty of good preachers who don’t follow them. Take Jesus, for example. Today’s Gospel is taken from the greatest sermon ever preached, the famous Sermon on the Mount, in which Jesus uses a variety of images and examples to describe his vision for how to live a good life. The Sermon on the Mount wasn’t brief, either; estimates for how long it lasted range from a few hours to several days. Clearly, Jesus had more confidence in the abilities of his listeners than did my seminary instructor.
Perhaps it’s not surprising that Jesus had high expectations of his audience because, as today’s Gospel tells us, Jesus is speaking “to his disciples.” In the Gospels, Jesus speaks to a variety of different groups. Sometimes, it is to the Pharisees and scribes – those who claimed to be expert Jews, more faithful than the rest. Sometimes, he speaks to the crowds – to the hordes of people who followed him, interested but not fully buying in, mostly just wanting to see the next miracle. But sometimes he speaks, as in today’s passage, to those who are on the journey of discipleship – those who believe they have found something unique in following Jesus, and who have dedicated themselves to listening to him with open ears.
Károly Ferenczy, The Sermon on the Mount (1896)
Obviously, you and I should also be just that kind of audience. I hope we are not here merely like the haphazard crowds, interested to a degree but reserving judgment about whether to fully buy in. The path of Christian discipleship is not one that can be walked with one foot on it and one foot off. Nor should we be like the scribes and Pharisees, those who think they have it all figured out and are God’s blessing to the world. No, we are seekers, students – which is what the word “disciple” means. We listen attentively to what the Master teaches so that we may grow ever more like him.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks to his disciples about what he expects from them – he’s laying out his vision of what discipleship will require. As we heard, he uses two images to speak to this. The first is salt: “you are the salt of the earth,” he tells them. Salt is a seasoning; it enhances flavor. But in the ancient world salt was also a preservative – meat was salted to make sure it lasted, and didn’t spoil. By calling them to be salt, Jesus is commanding the disciples to be distinct from the bland world around them – to season it, you might say, with God’s flavoring and to help preserve it from going bad.
The second image Jesus uses is light: he tells the disciples “you are the light of the world.” Light has been a common theme in our readings over the last few months, specifically as a way of describing the presence of Christ. The prophet Isaiah – from whom we have heard often in our first reading going all the way back to Advent – often uses the image of light shining in darkness as a metaphor for God’s salvation appearing in a world desperately in need of it. Just last week, when we celebrated the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, we heard the holy man Simeon give praise to God for being able to see with his own eyes “a light of revelation for the Gentiles,” that is, the child Jesus born to be the Savior of all. But in today’s reading, Jesus – he who is the Light of the World – now commands his disciples to be that light for others. Just as light allows us to see what is around us, what is hidden by darkness, the Christian person shines with the brightness of Christ, so that the world might be attracted and guided by his light.
With both of these images, salt and light, the important thing to grasp is that Jesus wants us to stand out. If we salt our food but we don’t notice a difference in taste, then the salt is worthless; if we hide a lamp so that others can’t see it, then the light of the lamp means nothing. In just the same way, our Christian discipleship doesn’t mean much if it isn’t visible – if others can’t perceive it in some concrete way. We are called to be conspicuous in the world – to stand out from everyone else, not for ourselves, but so that we can point the way to Christ. As St. Paul says, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” Paul, in fact, is a great example of this kind of Christian conspicuousness – he traveled, he preached, he worked miracles. But he did all of them not in praise of himself, but rather to proclaim the mystery of God, as he says in today’s reading: “Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” By his life and death, Paul helped season the world with the flavoring of God and brought the light of Christ to countless others.
Perhaps it would be good for you and I to consider today the state of our own discipleship. Jesus has given us our marching orders; how are we measuring up? At times, we probably are tempted to limit our discipleship to the hour on Sunday that we are in church, but Jesus wants more than that – much more. He wants us to completely buy in – to be wholly committed to being his disciple at every moment, so that no part of our life is not in some way connected to our Christian identity. That doesn’t always mean we have to change the course of our life, as if only those who run off to a monastery can follow Jesus. Sometimes, it means living our life now with greater intentionality and awareness, making small but important changes: daily dialogue with the Lord in prayer; an examination of where he is calling me to grow in trusting in him and following him more faithfully; being more conscious of how my words and actions and even thoughts should always be such that I would not be ashamed if Jesus were standing next to me. Perhaps most importantly, every day I should consider, “To whom can I give witness to Jesus this day? To whom can I be salt and light?” Maybe it’s to give a kind greeting to someone lonely, or a listening ear to someone in crisis, or a faithful encouragement to someone losing hope, or a private admonishment to someone not living as they should. In this way or in others, I can invite them – with love, with kindness – to follow Jesus with me, to be my companion on the path of discipleship.
The young boy with the stable-lantern (1824) by Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller
Friends, whatever my seminary instructor might say, I think a sermon should be judged not by how many points it has or how long it lasts, but how it forms and informs the way we live. Sometimes the best sermon comes not from the word of a preacher, but from the example of a disciple – a sermon that’s taught by how it’s lived. The Lord invites each of us to give that kind of sermon each day – to choose to be his disciple, and to stand out in the way we live so that others may know it. As we prepare to receive the Body and Blood of the Lord – who taught the disciples on the mountaintop, and who teaches us too in our daily discipleship – may we be strengthened with his grace to follow him faithfully, so that all "may see [our] good deeds and glorify [our] heavenly Father."
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