Salt of the Earth - Revd Linds

 

It is good to be with you today and I want to start, before turning to unpacking something of our Bible readings, by saying a little about the unusual situation in which we find ourselves, and how I fit in. Many of you may have been here two weeks ago when Bishop Richard introduced me and explained that I’ll be helping out here at St. Anne’s in the coming weeks, but I feel it would be helpful for me to say a little bit more about what that means in practice. For just over five years I’ve been Associate Priest at St. James’s, Piccadilly and was Acting Priest-in-Charge there during a 15 month vacancy, which ended in October, when our new rector, Lucy Winkett joined us. I’ve now been asked by the Archdeacon and the Bishop to be Acting Priest-in-Charge here at Soho. However, titles can sometimes be misleading, so I think it’s important for me to make clear at the start of our journey together what that does and what it doesn’t mean.

 

The Bishop was clear to point out that my being here is very much an interim arrangement. Until David’s appeal is heard, none of us know what the longer-term future of this parish will be. I don’t know if our journey together will be a few weeks, a few months, or longer. It’s too early to tell. What I can assure you, is that I am not here to take over, and that if, and I stress, if, the situation arises in which St. Anne’s needs to appoint a new rector, then that is a comprehensive process in itself, which will involve applications, candidates and interviews, just as when David was appointed.

 

Secondly, and it feels important to say this: I come in peace. I know that unfortunately there is considerable hurt, anger and woundedness both within the church and the community, but I come here as someone neutral with no previous knowledge or involvement in the issues of contention. I am not here to judge or take sides, but rather to point towards the long, slow and often painful road to reconciliation and healing

 

Thirdly, my remit here is solely pastoral and liturgical. In other words, I’m here to offer pastoral care and support where it is needed; to visit the housebound and take communion to those unable to come to church and to ensure that services continue. Matters of fabric and finance and administration are and will remain the responsibility of the Churchwardens and the PCC.

 

I’ll be celebrating and preaching on the first and third Sundays of each month, with either Lucy or Hugh from St. James’s covering the second Sundays and Colin Midlane from St. Martin’s covering fourth Sundays. I know that Hugh and Colin have covered Sundays here quite recently, and Lucy is looking forward to meeting you next week. I will also be taking the weekly Tuesday lunchtime Eucharists and will be spending two days a week here in the parish. I’m still finding my way, it seems likely that will be four half days rather than two whole days from Monday to Thursday (Friday being my day off). My contact details are freely available on the inside cover of the service sheet and from Stephen. I will also have some involvement in the school, which has links to both St. Anne’s and St. James’s, and so will be taking assemblies, helping out with RE and sitting on the governing body.

 

And finally, I should also point out that in mid- March I’ll be disappearing till early May to take part in a parish swap in Wellington, New Zealand, an invitation I accepted before Christmas. As far as possible, the Revd Godfrey Nicholson will covering my duties here, with support from Hugh and Lucy and others when needed. I hope all that is helpful and provides some clarity and am very happy to answer any questions you may have over coffee at the end of the service. But now, let’s turn our attention back to the Bible.

 

In this, its 400^th anniversary, we’ve already been reminded just how many everyday phrases in our language today come from the King James Bible – a recent survey counted 257 phrases we still use today. Expressions such as ‘refusing to give up the ghost’, ‘the blind leading the blind’, ‘feet of clay’, ‘a fly in the ointment’, ‘wheels within wheels’, ‘the powers that be’ and ‘filthy lucre’ all hail from the King James Bible. And today, our Gospel reading from Matthew starts with one of the most familiar of all – ‘the salt of the earth’. It’s a phrase which trips off the tongue, but I wonder just how well we really understand it.

 

In our modern hi-tech world, the only time salt seems to register on our horizon is when it snows, and suddenly we can’t get enough of it, or when we’re being warned of the health dangers of putting too much salt on our food. It’s easy to lose sight of both the importance and value of salt in ancient times. In fact, salt was so valuable in the ancient world that the Greeks called it divine. Salt was used as a preservative, to cleanse and purify. There were times when Roman soldiers received their wages in salt. The word salary comes from the Latin salarium, a word for salt. A person not worth his or her salt is one not worthy of wages. Consider the importance of salt in our lives. Like seawater, our bodies contain salt: a tear, a drop of blood, a bead of sweat. There is a Latin saying “Nil utilius sole and sale” – which means there is nothing more useful than sun and salt. “You are the salt of the earth . . . you are the light of the world.”

 

With both salt and light, a little goes a long way – a few grains of salt can transform the flavour of food, and yet too much can ruin it. Think back to the last time you had a power cut at night, or went camping or walking out in the countryside on a dark night and remember the difference that small torch or candle made. The light of a single candle or flame is enough if not to dispel, then to disempower darkness.

 

I’m sure you’re all familiar with the famous Prologue of John’s Gospel in which Jesus is described as the light which overcomes the darkness, Jesus as the Light of the World.

 

Here’s in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus is delivering what’s become known as the Sermon on the Mount, best known for it’s opening – the series of Beatitudes – “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven; blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Whereas in some of the other Gospels, the emphasis on Jesus’ first big public acts is healings or miracles, here in Matthew, it is much more focussed on Jesus’ teaching. And what he says, although seemingly simple, is both complex and remarkable.

 

I don’t want to spend too long rehearsing the qualities and characteristics of salt and light or to follow the path of some interpreters who take this teaching as a directive to be particularly pure and holy. In fact, dare I say that they can indeed be qualities than can be especially off putting to all those of us who fall short of that mark and are all too aware of our humanity – our weaknesses and shortcomings. And let us not forget Jesus’ parable about the Pharisee, who is so convinced of his own piety, contrasted with the honest and moving humility of the Publican who stands before God with painful integrity, asking forgiveness.

 

Instead, let us focus on the context in which Jesus is speaking. He’s there up the mountain addressing the crowds who have flocked to see him – this is not a private seminar with the disciples, but about as public a lecture as you can get. And Jesus’ language is as direct as you can get. These two teachings about salt and light are officially classed as parables, but unlike many of the longer parables, their meaning is obvious – and indeed, explained by Jesus. Salt that has lost it flavour is useless; hiding a lamp under a bushel defeats the object of lighting it in the first place. What is remarkable about this particular teaching – these particular four verses of Matthew, is their directness.

 

Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth”, “You are the light of the world”. Not “I am the salt of the earth! and “I am the light of the World” and you are to try and be like me, but “You are”. That’s “you” as in, not just the disciples, but all the multitudes who had come to see and hear him, and “are” as in the present tense – here and now, an existing state of being.

 

One of the principles I learned in ‘O’ Level Sociology has stuck in my mind for years. I’m sure it’s one you’re familiar with – “the self-fulfilment prophecy” – the idea that if you raise a child with lots of positive affirmation about their future, that they will realise that affirmation – in other words, if you tell them that they’re going to be really good at maths or gymnastics, then they take that on board and with that inner confidence, will most likely become brilliant with algebra or flawless on the parallel bars. Similarly, if you install a child with the belief that they’ll never amount to anything, they’ll grow up with little or no self-confidence and sadly that will become their reality.

 

“You are the salt of the earth . . . You are the light of the world.” That’s a pretty amazing self-fulfilment prophecy on a huge scale. It’s also the essence of Jesus’ teachings. For me, it acknowledges and affirms what I believe is the spark of divinity that lies at the heart of all humanity – if you like, a bit of divine DNA which we all carry. So often, our own journey to real faith is usually inspired and influenced not so much by the Bible or deep theological study, but more by other people – those in our lives to whom we feel drawn, or whose manner, compassion and personality creates a deep and lasting impression. These people are not usually famous on a world-wide, or even a national scale, they’re not especially pious or perfect, but they have great honesty and integrity, including a real awareness of their own shortcomings. They’re the salt of the earth in our own communities, neighbourhoods, schools, colleges, work places, local charities, support groups and organisations.

 

Salt and light. Too much is just that – off-putting, blinding. We don’t want our taste buds numbed or our eyes dazzled – we need salt and light in moderation, to work slowly, gradually, consistently to achieve their purpose, to fulfil their potential.

 

Light symbolizes a life of quality and service. When Robert Louis Stevenson was a boy, he watched an old lamp lighter igniting lamps as he went down the street. Stevenson said to his nurse, "I am watching a man put holes in the darkness." Likewise, John Ruskin watched a lamplighter light his lamps and said, "Now that is what I mean by being a Christian. You ought to be able to see where he has been by the lights that he leaves burning behind him."

 

We are the light of the world because of the light that shines within us – the light of Christ. Let’s remember once more those words from John’s famous prologue in which he writes of John the Baptist: “He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. ⁸He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.“ In that respect, we share the same mission as John. We testify – by the way we live our lives – to the light of Christ.

 

“You are the salt of the earth . . . You are the light of the world.”

It’s a message which is as relevant and applicable to us today as to the crowds on that mountainside over two thousand years ago. We each carry within us the potential to make a positive difference in our lives and to the lives of those around us. Not in a flashy or showy way, not in a way which draws attention to ourselves, but in a way which points those with whom we share our lives to the same spark of divinity they too bear.

 

This brings us back to the same question Bishop Richard posed two weeks ago. Are we good news?  Are we, can we be, salt and light here in Soho? Can we find a way to put holes in the darkness? Are we prepared to strive for forgiveness and reconciliation? Can we find it in ourselves to be peacemakers, and so be recognised as children of God?

 

I close with the words of Barbara Brown Taylor, who reflects on what, in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus describes as “the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness". She writes that faithfulness “has never been a matter of following rules but of honoring relationships – with aliens as well as kin, with enemies as well as allies.”

 

You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.

 

May it be so. Amen.