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Fifth Sunday After the Epiphany

Matthew 5:13–20

Isaiah 58:3–9a

For those of us who grew up in the church, reading the passage about being the light of the world and letting that light shine almost always reminds us of the song we sang when we were younger. We had the hand motions to go along with letting our light shine and not hiding it under a bushel, yelling out “no!” when we asked the question about hiding it under a bushel (as if we knew what that was). We didn’t understand much about that song, if we’re honest, but it must have reinforced, at least for the adults, the idea that we would not be ashamed of being a Christian.

We almost never talk about what being the light of the world means now, preferring to talk about other parts of this passage, especially the salt. There have been so many sermons about salt, many of us feel like experts on the subject. We’ve heard all about how salt is a preservative or how it adds flavor to life (often connected to living life abundantly) or how important it was for ancient Israelites. Ironically, people often overlook the light.

Part of the hesitation in talking about that part of the passage from Matthew is the last part of the section on the light, where Jesus talks about “good works,” stating that they should “shine before” others. Such wording goes against almost everything else we teach in the church. We tell people about grace and about how God loves us, not because of what we do, but because we are God’s creation. We explain that we shouldn’t try to earn our way to God’s love through doing what we often call “good works.” We say that we shouldn’t advertise the work we do, that we should love each other in meaningful ways, but always without attracting anyone’s notice. We should certainly not draw attention to whatever good we are doing for one another. Yet here we have Jesus clearly stating that we should let our “light shine before others, so that they may see [our] good works.”

Jesus, though, makes it clear where the glory for those good works should go, as what we do should not point to our goodness, but to the goodness of God. While this idea is true, it also leads to the belittling of others’ work and talents. Too often in the church, we praise other people for the hard work they have put into something—a musical performance, cleaning the church kitchen, preparing meals for those who would go hungry otherwise—and they quickly demure, as they want to give the praise to God. This view of our work has led to people’s lowering their view of their self-worth, and, unfortunately, it often leads to a hierarchy of abilities or work in the church, as if God values some people more because they do or don’t do certain parts of the church’s calling. That type of thinking leads to the true downside of celebrating good works.

Defining what our light actually is, though, might help deal with this passage, as we often leave the key idea here vague, as if we are still children singing that song without truly understanding it. The rest of the passage shows Jesus talking about the law and the prophets, about how he has come not to abolish them, but to fulfill them. The law and the prophets center on how we treat God and how we treat one another (becoming Jesus’s two commandments). Whether we’re talking about the Torah, where God lays out clear ideas for how to live in community, or the prophets, where they admonish the Israelites when they fall short of God’s ideals for living with one another, the overriding idea of the law and the prophets is about experiencing true communion with each other because God loves us all and wishes us to share that love with everyone we encounter.

If Jesus is the light of the world, and Jesus is the epitome of that love, then so, too, has God called us to be that love in the world. That love is what we should show to anyone and everyone, not hiding it under a bushel. We should let our love shine before others, so that they will give glory to God, as such love could only come from one’s connection with the divine, not from any mere human love.

The passage from Isaiah (one of those prophets Jesus has come to fulfill) makes this connection between light and love even clearer. After beginning with a question from the Israelites about why God does not see their fasts, Isaiah’s response, speaking in the voice of God, is that their fasts are self-serving and lead to fights among themselves. Unlike Jesus’s admonition in the passage from Matthew, the Israelites here are trying to let their personal lights shine, wanting to receive the glory themselves, which leads to strife in the community.

Isaiah then reminds them of what God values, which goes well beyond not eating food. Instead, God wants them to fight injustice and oppression, to share food with the hungry and welcome the homeless, to clothe the naked and support their families. Then, the author of Isaiah says their “light shall break forth from the dawn.” God wants the Israelites and God wants us to speak out for those whom society has deprived of a voice, to feed those who are hungry, to provide shelter for those who need it, to do whatever we can to help whoever is around us and suffering.

Thus, whenever we support those whom society oppresses because of their race or sexuality or ability or gender, we let our lights shine. Whenever we give food or drink to the hungry, we let our lights shine. Whenever we stand up to a government that tries to deprive people of their basic rights and liberties, we let our lights shine. Whenever we forgive the person down the hall or down the street for how they have wronged us, we let our lights shine. We do all of these actions, not because we’re perfect, but because God loves us all, and all of these acts point toward that love. There’s no bushel that can hide such a love.

Questions for Reflection or Discussion:

What are some ways we can be light in our world today?

Where are places we hide light away, put it under a bushel? And why do we do so?