Matthew 5:13-20 "But Here's the Thing..."

         Last Sunday, our worship focused on the first verses of the Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew.  Remember?  We read the Beatitudes – those timeless blessings meant to remind us of the foundation on which God’s dream for the world is built.  There will be the peacemakers who seek unity rather than divisiveness and the merciful who are committed to reconciliation and forgiveness.  There will be the women and men who stand up for justice and speak out against oppression.  There will be those who mourn - be it a person or the death of community or the vibrant church or the earth. 

         In spite of their brash pronouncement that the world is turning upside down – or maybe it is tilting right side up, there is something quiet and gentle about the Beatitudes.  In our mind’s eye, Jesus speaks softly as he enumerates them. 

         But here’s the thing.  Should these blessings lull us into complacency – yeah, yeah, we can be peacemakers if we need to be, merciful if it suits us; should they become like elevator music in the background of our lives – yeah, yeah, that is something to definitely aspire to in the future, it’s a pie-in-the-sky sort of thing; should they become little more than white noise, well, Jesus just will not let us get away with that. 

         You see, in the next few verses of this so-called sermon, the verses we just read, Jesus lays out in no uncertain terms the role we – you and I - are called to play in this new world dawning, this new structure for living that is Gods’ dream.

          “You are the salt of the earth,” Jesus declares.  (And of even more importance to us this morning given our worship theme of light and illuminated paths) “You are the light of the world.”

         Now, this was not some newfangled nametag he was bestowing on his disciples.  It was not a job description come out-of-the-blue.  After all, Jesus was a Jew, and the Jewish people had a close relationship with the metaphor of light.  The Torah was the prime mediator of divine light.  God was first and foremost the light-giver.  Israel herself was to be a light to the nations. 

         But here’s the thing.  In this Sermon on the Mount, Jesus gives the well-known and well-loved metaphor of light a bit of a twist – and brings it home – up close and personal, so to speak.  “You are the light of the world.” 

         That indicative that implies the imperative, that statement that is fundamentally a command surely made Jesus’ followers stop short, furrow their brows, scratch their heads, and wonder what he was getting at.  You see, living as they did under Roman domination, they generally thought of Rome as the “light of the world.” They were the people living in darkness.  “But no,” Jesus says.  “Not Rome, not Congress, not the President, but YOU are the light of the world.” 

         And their response?  Our response?  Well, it is like (or actually not like) the woman who was checking out at the grocery store one morning. The perky cashier handed her the receipt and said with the utmost cheer, "Have a nice day!" To which the woman replied, "I'm sorry, but I have other plans."

         But here’s the thing. Such a flip response is not an option here if we really are intent on walking the path that Jesus illuminates for us.  There are no other plans.  These are the plans. Jesus is saying to us – to me and to you and you and you and you:  “Go, be light.”  And not just any old light.  Be the light that illuminates the city on the hill.  Be the light that all the world will see.

        And if his listeners still did not get what he meant, well, Jesus went on to admonish them to let their light shine before others, so that the world might see their good deeds and in that way maybe even see God.  “Be who God has called you to be.  Live as God meant for you to live,” he implored them.  “Be light because you are light.” 

         Remember that Jesus did not say, “ You should be light,” or “Please try to be light,” or even “Here’s how you can be light.  Jesus is not politely requesting that we make ourselves into light.  He is not telling us to become something else because it is something we already are. Jesus says, “You are light.”

         As Episcopal priest and Biblical scholar Barbara Brown Taylor wrote, “’You are the light of the world,’ Jesus says to those sitting right in front of him, though they have done absolutely nothing to deserve that accolade….The disciples have not done anything to distinguish themselves at this point.

         ‘You are the light of the world,’ he says, giving them the t-shirts before they have even run the race. Then he shows them where the start line is. “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,” he says.  Only how are they supposed to do that, exactly? By walking around looking all sunny and saved? By telling other people how they can become shiny too? Maybe so, but that’s not where Jesus puts the emphasis.

         (Taylor continues.) ‘Let your light shine before others so that they may see your good works and give glory to your (God) in heaven,’ he says. (There you have it.) You have the t-shirt, which is yours no matter what. That’s the grace part. And it’s true, too: you are the light of the world. (But take note of this) The wattage is up to you.

         (Taylor reminds us that) if you decide that fifteen watts is all you can manage, well, then, the world around you just won’t be very well lit. You’ll still be the light of it—that part is nonnegotiable—but don’t expect it to be much brighter than a closet in there.

         If, on the other hand, you decide to go all out, then happy are they who live near you. Happy are they who share the world with you, because their visibility will be so much better when you’re around that they may be able to see beyond your good works. They may be able to see all the way to God.”

         Think about it: Taylor has said a most un-Protestant thing – and I agree with her.  Good works matter.  God expects us to step up.  Knowing God’s word is not a substitute for doing it.  Sitting in worship every Sunday is not enough.  We need to be changing lives.  We need to be transforming the world. Good works count.  It is not some Old Testament thing we can ignore.  It is right there in the Sermon on the Mount.  You are light, so let your light shine, so it will illuminate your good works. 

         And what are those good works to be?  The old prophet Isaiah lays them out for us.  We are to loose the bonds of injustice, we are to let the oppressed go free. We are to share our bread with the hungry.  We are to bring the homeless refugees into our towns and cities.  We are to live and care for one another in such a way that we make a difference in the lives of others.

         Now how we go about doing that can be through a host of activities – food pantries, mission trips, health and school kits.  But here’s the thing.  To look only to those activities we here at RVCC have been doing for as long as I have been your pastor is to ignore what is currently right in front of us.

         Face it – no matter where you are on the political spectrum, it is hard not to agree that our nation is beset by troubling times, times that call into question the very theology of the mainstream church.  We have an administration that many do not trust, a President who boasts building a wall across our southern border with Mexico, that has left Muslim Americans and other marginalized groups feeling unsafe, and that has argued pugnaciously even with our Allies. We have a Congress that is deeply divided and a population that is equally polarized and quick to throw labels – conservative, progressive, leftist, and alt-right.  The future is anything but clear.  How can we be sure of who or what to believe?

         But here’s the thing.  No matter how we vote or what our political affiliation is, we are still the light.  We are disciples of Jesus, followers of the Gospel.  And, as Lutheran pastor Karoline Lewis wrote, “The Gospel is not a viewpoint. Not an opinion. Not an alternative fact. The Gospel is (our) truth-teller. 

         (And) the Gospel does not censor. It does not silence the already oppressed. It does not cast suspicion on those who are other. It does not act out of fear. It does not bar membership. It does not legislate exclusion. It does not look aside and say that God’s earth isn’t hurting. It does not ban the perceived outsider. It does not build walls to keep others out.”  The Gospel is our illuminated path.

         I do not care who you voted for last November, and I do not wish to know.  After all, one of our proudly held traditions here is that we welcome everyone.  Our church is a safe place for those with all points of view.  However, our church is also a place where I as your pastor will try week in and week out to preach the Gospel, to remind us of the path Jesus illuminates for us, remind us of what he taught:

…That the Gospel is our truth

…That we are called to honor the forgotten ones

…That we welcome the immigrant, the refugee, and the stranger – almost as if we were welcoming Jesus himself

...That we work for justice for people of all races, nationalities, religions, and genders, so that they know we have their back

         Now is our time.  Now is our Church’s time to become engaged, to stand up for that Gospel.  

When we, as individuals and the Church as a faith community, fail to speak up, that is when the path becomes dim and our light is diminished.  When all we focus on is not rocking the boat, fitting in by caving to the pressures of alternative facts, that is when our light goes out, and the city on the hill is thrown into darkness. 

         You are the light of the world.  You are the lighthouse keepers, the solar panels.  It is one thing to claim your identity as a child of God through baptism.  It is another thing entirely to live that identity. 

         Oh, it would be so easy to give in to the darkness – to the fear and the distrust and the polarization.  But here’s the thing.  Also embedded in the Gospel is hope – and a promise, a promise from Jesus himself that all the darkness we may sense around us does not have the last word.  Christ has the last word.  Light has the last word.  And because we know that to be true – “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness will never put it out” – and because we are the light of the world - you and I – we have a responsibility to live that calling – now more than ever.  With the help of God and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we are called – because we are light – to become engaged in this crazy world around us, for the sake of our nation but much more so for the sake of God’s dream unfolding, not just in the future but now.