Sermon for February 8, 2026
Epiphany 5 A
Matthew 5:13-20; 1 Cor. 2:1-12
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
When I was a boy and would go to Scout camp in the summer, the first thing our troop would do after getting settled in our campsite would be to fan out into the forest and collect firewood. That first night we’d make our campfire and our assistant scoutmaster, Mr. Lastraglio would challenge us to use only one match. One match—for the entire two weeks we were at camp! I don’t know if he ever told us why he issued this particular challenge, but reflecting on it I have a few guesses: There was the value of preparation, “Be Prepared” being the Scout Motto. We’d have to set a goal, make a plan, anticipate the obstacles we might face as we worked as a team. We’d learn the power of fire, and how even a small ember hiding under a log in the early morning could be coaxed to new life with gentle blowing, tinder, and kindling. And then there were the benefits we received—light and heat in the dark cool night air, a place to gather and tell stories. Or maybe it was simpler than all that. Maybe Mr. Lastraglio knew that the best way for a bunch of Scouts to not drive him crazy was to give us a common purpose!
Fire is not something most of us in the modern world think about much. With a flick of a switch we have light; the turn of a knob we cook food; the press of a button the furnace heats up. It wasn’t like that in the time of Jesus. Back then people spent a lot of time thinking about fire—to have light in the darkness, warmth in the cold, heat for cooking—and where to find fuel for these tasks.
Think of life by the Sea of Galilee. There were no endless forests; wood was hard to come by. The most readily available fuel source was animal dung—but if it got dried out it would turn to dust; so they’d collect the dung while it was still moist, mix it with salt to hold it together, and form it into patties. Lowly dung, animal waste, was transformed into having a valuable purpose by the salt. They also used salt as a catalyst; they’d put a slab of it under the dung and light it to get the fire going. But eventually that slab of salt would wear out and no longer catch fire. It had “lost its saltiness” and was “no longer good for anything, but to be thrown away and trampled underfoot.” “You are the salt of the earth” Jesus tells his disciples. What an audacious claim to make about this rag-tag bunch of followers. Even if you don’t look like much, you have a special purpose. You are going to be God’s salt. I’m going to mix you in with the “dung heap” experiences of the world, so that things that might appear like they’re useless or turning to dust will instead be transformed to benefit the world.
On its own salt is just a rock, a mineral; it doesn’t do anything for itself. But salt mixed with food preserves and flavors it; and salt mixed with animal dung turns it into fuel. Likewise, as followers of Jesus we are not supposed to exist only for ourselves and our personal salvation. Jesus wants us to be salt—salt used for a purpose, salt used as a means of transformation. Using the gifts given to us by the Holy Spirit, we can have a transformative effect on the world around us that improves life for others.
Jesus also tells his disciples, “You are the light of the world”. This is another audacious claim. Jesus was hearkening back to God’s purpose for ancient Israel, as Isaiah 42:6 says, you are to be a “light to the nations”. Israel (or the Church for that matter) didn’t always do a good job living up to that calling, which is why the Lord continually sent prophets to point out their failings and to share a vision for the values and way of life that God really wanted the people to live by. Light back then was provided by clay lamps. You filled them with olive oil, dipped a wick into it, light the wick and voila—light for the world (or at least your small corner of it). These lamps were not very bright. But on a dark night in a dark house, even a small amount of light was enough. And when you combined your small light with everyone else’s small light, it all adds up.
But what is the purpose Jesus has for us to be shining our little lights? It’s “so that people may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” Now, for many of us Lutherans, we were kind of raised to perk up at that phrase “good works” and to say that we’re not saved by our good works, but as St. Paul wrote in Romans 3:28, we are “justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law.” And that’s true—we are saved by trusting what Christ alone has done for us, and we do not earn our salvation by accumulating good works points. But Lutheran teaching doesn’t stop there either, because following our being “justified by faith” comes what the Lutheran Reformers called “The New Obedience” [Augsburg Confession article VI]—meaning, we do the good works God commands not as a way to earn salvation, but as thanksgiving in response to the salvation Christ has already won for us by his grace. Christ’s gift of salvation for eternity gives us a purpose for our time on this earth.
Martin Luther summed it up as “God doesn’t need our good works, but our neighbors do.” We give glory to our Father in heaven when we help our neighbors in their time of need. It doesn’t have to be someone you know or whom you are close to (although they are of course included). Whoever is in need is your neighbor. Maybe your neighbor is fearful, anxious, suffering, or in pain. Maybe your neighbor is hungry, cold, or homeless. Maybe your neighbor is sick, dying, or grieving. Maybe your neighbor is an immigrant, or someone who just moved to town, or someone who’s lived next door to you for years that you’ve never met. Maybe your neighbor sees everything eye to eye with you, or maybe your neighbor sees everything from a different perspective. Whoever the neighbor is, when they’re in need the question a disciple of Jesus should ask is “how might I be salt or light in this circumstance?”
Whoever our neighbors might be, Jesus calls us to be salt and light by giving of ourselves in loving service to others. That is how we shine our lights and give glory to God, because it reflects God’s greatest glory, which ironically is Jesus’ death on the cross. Jesus lived, was crucified, and rose again entirely for the benefit of others, even sinners. That was his purpose, and that is why St. Paul can write in 1 Corinthians 2:2 that he “decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” Christ crucified became the lens through which St. Paul came to understand everything else. And Christ crucified is how we, as Christians, begin to see the true glory of God—because the purpose Jesus had in going to the cross was to make an unbreakable promise that however low life may get, Christ promises to meet us there.
Christ hides himself in our suffering, Martin Luther observed. Christ hides there, with whoever is suffering, like salt mixed in with the “dung” of life, in order to transform it into something that has a greater purpose. Christ is right there, with anyone who is gripped by pain, grief, anxiety, conflict, fear. As he meets you there, he reaches out his hand and says “Hold onto me. Trust me to help carry your burden.” And he does help us carry it—but as much as we might wish, Christ does not simply take away the burden as if waving a magic wand. Instead, he asks you to stick with him, like salt sticks to the dung it’s been mixed with, so that by faith he can take you through the suffering you’re experiencing—and then transform it into something new and life giving.
Through the cross of Christ, God can transform your pain into mercy; your grief into compassion and care; your conflict into learning; your anxiety into serving others; your fear into courage—so that you become God’s salt and light for the world. Amen.