Isaiah 58:10-12; Matthew 5:13-16; Fifth Sunday after Epiphany; February 5, 2023
Some years ago, I was on a mission trip to New Mexico, staying with my youth at a Presbyterian retreat center called Ghost Ranch. I know some of you have been there before, but if you haven’t, let’s go!
No, seriously!
It’s awesome. It’s beautiful. It’s spiritual. It’s the richness and splendor of creation all in one.
The guide that we had was fantastic, and one night, while she was leading us through a devotion down on a hike in Box Canyon, she recited a prayer called, “A Step Along the Way” — long attributed to the archbishop and catholic saint, Oscar Romero. The back half of it goes like this:
“This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
“We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.”
“We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.”
I just love that. “We plant the seeds that one day will grow and water those that are already planted. We are prophets of a future not our own.” I love that.
And I imagine that was the guiding principle behind your plan — you being the salt of the earth — for embarking on a three-million-dollar capital campaign project. So that this beloved place, where you have planted and nurtured a whole plot of seeds over the years, will continue to grow into a larger community garden that will last and bear fruit for generations to come.
For just like Isaiah’s vision, even if we ourselves are not the first responders to the breach, or the last restorers of these streets, we hope that in some way we are yet contributing to the future that we pray will bloom brighter and more colorful than how we’ve known and seen it before.
And so, we aren’t doing it just for ourselves now, are we? Just so that we can see a plaque adorned with our family name embedded in some wall? No, we’re doing it for others. For the kids that just left, and for their kids after them, and a whole bunch of kids, and families, and people that we haven’t even met. It’s for their sake and their benefit that we are doing this.
So, “letting your light shine” is not about holding a mirror up to yourself, so that your light only reflects the image of your eyes back upon your face, but it’s about sending out your light — your kindness, your care, and charity — out into the world, so that others are inspired, and their lives made happier, ever less dark and ever less gloomy.
But that being true, are we not allowed to take any pleasure or satisfaction in our efforts and our works? Can we really not have a plaque with our names, or a stone with our memories? Yes, we know that what we do is ultimately for others, but can we also not do sometimes for us?
No doubt you’ve heard the odd proverb that goes if you are doing good things because it brings you happiness, then somehow that is wrong and self-serving. I know I’ve heard this when I’ve championed going on short-term mission trips. I mean, I get it. It’s not about us or shouldn’t be…I get that. But are we to deny ourselves always, even when we are aiming to do right?
As you all know, this is precisely where Immanuel Kant buttered his 18th-century bread. You know this. Wait, you don’t? Your previous ministers didn’t quote ole Immanuel? Really? /s
Okay, for those unaware, he, the philosophical giant of moral philosophy, came up with a phrase he called “the categorical imperative” which basically boils down to the idea that morality isn’t defined by a hypothetical result, but rather by the reasoning behind it.
An example: let’s say you’ve helped grandma cross the road, but you only did it for the potential Hershey Kiss in her purse, or that she’d later sing your praise to folks back at Rydal; well, that really wasn’t a moral decision now was it? No, you’re just out for yourself, Kant would argue.
But if you helped grandma across York and West simply because it was right, without transactional expectations, or to bring attention to yourself, well, now you’ve got it figured it out and would pass the categorical imperative morality test. Make sense?
But now forgetting Kant, and mercifully so, Jesus himself more or less says the same exact thing just a page later than ours in chapter six of Matthew. When he gets upset with the “hypocrites” –these mourners and fasters who are exaggerating for effect. He says, don’t do that, but mourn and fast in secret so that you might be rewarded by God above (Matthew 6:6).
Which, if you paid attention to this morning’s lesson in Matthew 5, seems, interestingly, almost in direct contradiction to itself. Not unlike some elements of this sermon. After all, in our text, Jesus says, “In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16).
In one verse he says let others see what you are doing; in another he says, don’t, but hide it away in secret.
But what if it’s not a contradiction? What if Jesus simply means that 1) it’s all about God’s glory anyway, and that 2) gloom only begets gloom and brings down the room, while light begets light and brights up the night. Yes, I really did just create a bumper sticker for you all.
But really. What if it is that simple? That light begets light. Isaiah says, “then your light shall rise in the darkness and gloom will be like the noonday.” Matthew says, ‘You are the light of the world. And a city built on a hill cannot be hidden.”
My friends, if the net gain, as a result of our good works, is light and liveliness and progress and happiness, then what does it matter if the works and results also make us intrinsically happy? So be happy! Forget my boy Kant. And relish in shining your light and bringing joy to others! For the hypothetical result is worth it, if in your own gain others find gain also.
Because remember, it is in part about you, and even about me, just as it is about everyone else too, for God encourages all of us, and loves all of us equally. For we are all kids of the same God, and prophets of a future that is equally not our own.
Whether you are here right now, or some years later; whether you are here all the time or behind a computer online. Whether you have lots to give, or only pennies left behind. All of the steps we take along the way matter, no matter how big or small they are, because collectively they help to shape that which comes next. And what comes next only ever brings us closer to the perfect day when we believe all will be put right and made complete.
But until that day, each of us right now are called to be gardeners and each of us are called to be laborers, but none of us are ever called to be the master builder nor the savior.
For those titles already belong to someone else, to him, who sacrificed it all, and spread it out on a table for us to enjoy; so that in bread and wine the seed of his Spirit could take root and grow. In each of us. In all of us. His fruit, his salt, his light-bearers.
So be at peace, my friends. Be joyous. And let your light shine and shine brightly. For Christ’s saving work is already done, and that which is left for us, even though incomplete, is yet meaningful and significant.
Amen.
First Lesson (Isaiah 58:10-12)
If you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.
Second Lesson (Matthew 5:13-16)
‘You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. ‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. 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, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.
