This week’s Scripture is taken from the Sermon on the Mount. Here, Jesus offers images that are simple and yet profoundly challenging. “You are the salt of the earth… You are the light of the world” (Matthew 5:13–14). These are not suggestions. They are declarations. Jesus does not say we should try to become salt and light. He tells us that this is already who we are. The deeper question is whether we are willing to live into that identity.
In the ancient world, salt was essential. It preserved food, prevented decay, and enhanced flavor. Without salt, things spoil. Without salt, nourishment loses its vitality. To be called the salt of the earth is to be entrusted with the sacred responsibility of preserving what is good, protecting what is vulnerable, and ensuring that the dignity of every human life does not erode under the pressures of fear, indifference, or injustice.
Light is not merely decorative. Light reveals what is hidden. Light provides direction. Light offers safety and hope in places of uncertainty and fear. When Jesus says that a city set on a hill cannot be hidden, he reminds us that faith is not meant to be private comfort alone. Faith is meant to be visible in the way we live, the way we treat others, and the way we respond to the suffering of our neighbors.
These words from Jesus arrive with urgency in our present moment. Across our nation, we are witnessing growing anxiety, deep division, and very real struggles affecting the lives of vulnerable people. Families face uncertainty about healthcare and economic stability. Immigrant communities live with fear about their safety and future. Children and marginalized populations often become invisible in policy debates. The rhetoric of public discourse can sometimes drown out the voices of those who most need to be heard.
To be salt and light in such times means embracing our sacred calling to become advocates for human dignity. It means remembering that Christian discipleship is not simply about personal piety but about public compassion. Jesus consistently sided with those whom society overlooked, the poor, the sick, the outsider, the sinner, and the forgotten. He gave voice to those who were silenced by systems of power or social exclusion.
Being the voice for the voiceless does not mean speaking over others or assuming we understand every experience. Rather, it means using whatever influence, privilege, or platform we possess to amplify the stories and struggles of those whose dignity is threatened. It means listening deeply, standing alongside those who suffer, and refusing to allow indifference to become the norm.
Jesus continues his teaching by declaring that he has not come to abolish the law but to fulfill it. In this statement, Jesus shifts the focus from legalistic rule-keeping to the deeper spirit of the law, love of God and love of neighbor. The righteousness Jesus describes is not measured by outward compliance alone but by inward transformation that expresses itself through justice, mercy, and compassion.
In our current national climate, it can be tempting to retreat into silence or to withdraw from difficult conversations. Yet salt that loses its flavor ceases to serve its purpose. Light hidden under a basket cannot guide anyone through darkness. Discipleship requires moral courage, the courage to speak when silence would be easier, the courage to defend human dignity when it is politically inconvenient, and the courage to build bridges in a culture that often rewards division.
This does not mean adopting anger or hostility as tools of witness. Jesus never calls us to mirror the harshness we encounter. Instead, he calls us to embody a different way of being. Salt preserves quietly. Light shines steadily. Both operate not through force but through presence and persistence. Our witness becomes most powerful when it is rooted in humility, compassion, and steadfast love.
There is also a deeply sacramental dimension to these teachings. Just as salt transforms food and light transforms darkness, disciples are called to participate in God’s transforming grace within the world. In baptism, we are marked as bearers of Christ’s presence. In communion, we are nourished by Christ’s self-giving love so that we might become nourishment for others. These sacraments remind us that we do not carry this calling alone. We are strengthened by grace and sustained by community.
Being salt and light does not require perfection. It requires faithfulness. It asks us to notice suffering, to refuse to ignore injustice, and to trust that even small acts of courage and compassion participate in God’s larger work of redemption.
In times of uncertainty, the Church is called not to withdraw from the world but to stand within it as a witness to hope. We are called to be people who protect the vulnerable, who speak truth with love, and who shine with the quiet but persistent light of Christ.
Jesus’ words remain both invitation and challenge. The world does not need more noise or more division. It needs communities of faith willing to preserve compassion, illuminate truth, and speak for those who cannot safely speak for themselves.
“You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.” May we have the courage to live as who Christ says we already are.
Be Salty. Stay Lit.
