Salt and Light

Jesus reminds us today in the Gospel that we Christians are salt and light; salt of the earth and light of the world. Both are related to two senses, seeing and tasting. Without light we cannot see. Without salt the food becomes insipid. Jesus doesn’t say what we should be, but what we are; we are because of our Baptism. Not because we are better, or because we have done well, but because of his will, because he wants it. Christopher West always reminds us: You are a gift, be what you are.

We are precious in the eyes of God, like Gollum with his ring. In the old world salt was very valuable. The Jews made their offerings to God seasoned with salt, to make it pleasant for him. The Greeks considered salt to be divine. The Roman soldiers were some times paid with salt. In the times where there were no fridges, to make the food last, it had to be covered with salt. The human body contains almost a kilo of salt. Comparing us with salt, Jesus is telling us how valuable we are in his eyes.

What does it mean to be salt? It is white and pure; we should live a clean life, different from other people’s tasteless lives. It gives flavour to the food; we should make the world more pleasant, more lovable. It sterilises the wounds, stopping infections; we should preserve society from the effects of sin. It melts the ice when the roads are covered with it; we should melt the coldness of humanity with the warmth of the love of God. It preserves the food from decay; we should be like preservatives, to stop society from disintegrating, keeping things fresh and healthy. It produces thirst, the desire to drink; we should foster our thirst for God, that only his love can quench. But if the salt becomes tasteless what can you do with it? Throw it away. If it becomes contaminated, it becomes useless. When the salt in the underground water comes to the surface, the field becomes barren. It is possible for us to lose our way, our truth and our light.

Light is very important for us. Without the light of the sun it is impossible to live. Our eyes are our most valuable sense. The same happens in the spiritual life: God is the light. The first thing he did when he created the world was to separate light from darkness. When we see God, we see light. The devil is the prince of darkness. Hell is pitch black. When we baptise a baby we light a candle, to signify that his soul is full of light. Jesus came to dispel darkness.

We are the light of the world, not our light, but his light. We need to let his light to shine on us. We need to learn how to reflect his light, not ours. Like the moon, that reflects the light of the sun. We compare Mary with the moon. We should be like a lighthouse: to show people where the rocks are, where the danger is. Jesus is the beacon; we are the lighthouse. We can be a beautiful lighthouse, close to the sea, on the forefront, but if our beacon is out, we are useless. To give light we have to have it. Many times instead of salt we are vinegar; instead of giving light, we give darkness. We ask Mary our mother to remind us what we are: children of the light, pure mineral salt.

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Presentation of Our Lord

Today Jesus is brought for the first time to his temple, to fulfil the duties prescribed by the Jewish Law. He comes in his mother’s arms; he is too little to be able to walk. Joseph brings a pair of pigeons. They were a poor family and couldn’t afford a lamb. A poet says that because God couldn’t find poverty in heaven, he came to find it on earth. After all these centuries waiting for the Messiah, when he arrived, there was no party to welcome him. Only two people recognised him. God normally comes unnoticed; he likes to hide and disappear. We are the ones who need to look for him. We complain that he doesn’t appear to us. He doesn’t like to impose himself; he prefers to respect our freedom. He gives us enough signs for us to notice his presence.

How did Simeon discover Jesus? What did he see? We don’t know; but we know that Simeon in spite of being very old, he had a very young heart. He was looking forward to see the Messiah. And thanks to his hope in his faith he was going to meet him, his heart was full of love, and he had the right vision. His eyes discovered him among the multitude of babies brought by their parents to be rescued. Old people are normally grumpy, complaining about the past and making life unbearable to people around them. Simeon was the opposite; he was a sweet gentle man, of good humour, optimistic, full of life with bright dark eyes. He was looking forward to meeting God. We must have the same attitude. Every day that passes, we are one day closer to meeting him. Our Lord is coming. All we need to do is wait for him, standing up, walking towards him. Every night, before going to bed, when the priest prays the divine office, he repeats Simeon’s words: Nunc dimitis; let me go now in peace to encounter your presence.

We are jealous of Simeon: he took baby Jesus in his arms. Mary let him have the baby. Not many people managed to do so. We too ask her for this privilege. But she will ask us to wash our hands, comb our hair and clean our shoes. Maybe we need to go to confession first, forgive a grudge or to apologise to somebody about something we find difficult to recognise.

Simeon didn’t bring good news to the young couple. Till now all the announcements of the angels were full of joy and hope. After a month of silence, some of the questions they had about the future of this child were answered by Simeon: he was going to be a sign of contradiction. This baby was going to bring mixed feelings, suffering and joy, cross and glory, all at the same time. From now on, people won’t be able to remain indifferent at his passing. You either have to be with him or against him. To follow him is great, but it is going to bring together two extremes: a joy rooted on a wooden cross.

Simeon said something softly, in a low voice, only for Mary to hear: “A sword will pierce through your own soul.” She had sensed it already when the angel asked her to be the mother of God. It is something every mother finds out when they have a baby. Life brings sorrow; love fosters suffering. She began to experience the cross before her son. It was a prophecy that was going to find its consummation at Calvary. In the same way Jesus’ breast was pierced by a lance, opening his heart for us, Mary’s soul was going to be penetrated by a sword, for us to see her motherly love for us.

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The Beatitudes

One of the most beautiful places in the Holy Land is where the church of the Beatitudes is located. It is built on a grassy hill with an amazing view of the lake of Gennesaret. It is one of those places that hasn’t changed much. It is situated on the northwest side of the lake, three kilometers from Capernaum. The area is called Tabgha, meaning seven springs, still flowing down towards the lake. There are two other churches in proximity, on the site of the multiplication of the loaves and the fish, and the primacy of Peter. The church is built in an octagon, in remembrance of the eight beatitudes. You can walk around the outside of the church on a covered veranda, contemplating the lake and the surrounding countryside. You are tempted to keep circling the church watching the panorama and praying about the Beatitudes.

The Prophets of old used to preach from the top of the hill for people to be able to hearthem. We see here a classic depiction of Jesus inscribed in our minds, preaching the Gospel to the crowds, sitting down while people remain at his feet, listening to him, completely absorbed in his words. Pope Francis stresses the importance of “how the proclamation of this message happened: Jesus, seeing the crowds that followed Him, climbs up the gentle slope that surrounds the Lake of Galilee; He sits down and, addressing His disciples, proclaims the Beatitudes. Therefore, the message is directed to the disciples, however, the crowds are on the horizons, namely, the whole of humanity. It’s a message for the whole of humanity.” It is the attitude we must have for entering the kingdom of heaven.

It is not easy to preach about the Beatitudes, to give a meaningful commentary about them. We priests try to avoid them. Why? Maybe because you need to be very close to Jesus to be able to explain them well. Thank God they speak for themselves. You only need to read them and pray about them, listen to their voice. Once they left Jesus lips, they have a life of their own. Their sound keeps moving through time, amplifying their waves among the history of men.

They are simple and profound. They speak to us in many different ways. They are very practical, proposing ideas for our own lives. We can try to live them now, today, during the course of the day. They push us to make small resolutions that will bring us closer to God and to others. This is why it is so difficult and so easy to talk about them: they become very personal, suggesting down to earth ideas, like bubbles of soap, popping out from the tube, that resonate specifically to each one of us. This is why we don’t like to read them very often; too many desires come to our minds, with dangerous changes in our way of life. We prefer to close the book and leave it for tomorrow.

Maybe I have been a bit negative in my outlook today. The Beatitudes are very demanding and I am getting old. Time makes things more difficult. It is easy to become discouraged. We tried them and we failed. We didn’t find them wanting, but we found ourselves failing. We need to keep trying, hoping that one day God will lift us up, whenever He wants to.

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