The first reading from the prophet Isaiah has an “if/then” quality to it. If you do this, then this will happen. If you share your bread with the hungry, shelter the homeless, clothe the naked, remove oppression and malicious speech from your midst, then your light shall break forth like the dawn. The prophet is challenging us to move beyond where we are and become something more, to become light. Doubtless that is an important message and we should heed it. The lesson of Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount is slightly different. There is no “if/then” but a straight indicative, a statement of fact. “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.” We aren’t becoming something; we already are something. The call of Jesus is to let our little light shine so that everyone can see what God can do with the likes of us. That’s the ideal picture that Jesus paints but it seems to be honored more often than not in the breech. We don’t shine, just the opposite. That is why the abuse scandal was so devastating – it was a complete reversal of who we were made to be. If we are the light of the world why are we still stumbling around in the land of gloom?
When we look at the text in the Gospel, Jesus says that the point of our being the light is to shift the spotlight off of ourselves and point a searchlight toward God. St. Paul reminds us in the epistle to the Corinthians of the object toward which we point: “I resolved when I was with you to know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified.” That was Paul’s solution on how to be the light which glorifies. Paul came to that conclusion because right before he got to Corinth he was in Athens. Rome might have been the center of power in the ancient world but Athens was the center of culture, the center of learning, the center of sophistication. Athens was Harvard and Oxford and Paris. In the Acts of the Apostles we read of a sermon Paul gave while in Athens. It is learned, it is philosophical, it is literary, it is thoughtful, it is enlightened – exactly aimed at the high falutin audience he had gathered around him. The sermon was a complete flop. Oh, they loved the sermon, “We’ll listen to you again” they said. But they weren’t converted. They didn’t turn to God. That incident convinced Paul that the way to let his light shine was not with well-wrought arguments or highly developed theology. It was rather to put the searchlight on what God did for us on Calvary’s hill. Focusing on the cross shines a light on the way God has chosen to share in our lives.
We let our light shine as Christians by pointing toward the crucified one. We don’t point out a God who is above it all, but a God who shares in our suffering. We don’t point out a God who expects smooth sailing but a God who provides a bridge over troubled waters. We don’t point out a God who ensures that bad things won’t happen to good people but a God who promises that no matter what happens it will turn out good. With Paul we preach Christ Jesus and him crucified. We look to the cross. The cross is the light on a lamp stand proving that the will of God is stronger than death. The cross is the light on a lamp stand shining the triumph of God into the dark and troubled recesses of family, neighborhood and church. The cross is light on a lamp stand saying that pain and suffering are transformed into glory in the power of God. This story is from a Zen master. It seems a burglar broke into his hut only to discover there was nothing to steal. “You have put yourself to much trouble.” said the master. “You must not go away empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift.” After the bewildered thief left the Zen master sat down and watched the moon. “Poor fellow,” he thought to himself, “I wish I could give him the gorgeous moonlight.” After we have given it all away, fed the hungry, clothed the naked, tended to the poor, and cared for our own, we still have so much. We have the glorious moonlight. We bask in the light of the cross. We are illumined by the power of God at work in all things. We are enlightened by a faith which lets us know that all will be well, all manner of things will be well — just not in the ways that we expected.
We’ve probably all had our Athens moment when we thought that saying the right thing, getting the right person elected, finding the right Church, eating the right foods, taking the right medicine would make things better. It hasn’t. There seems to be more division, more hatred, more suffering, more difficulty than ever. That is why, with Paul we know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified because we live in a world where racism is deemed acceptable so we need the blessed assurance that the power of the cross can transform the terrifying into triumph. We know nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified since the cross provides the promise that the horrifying beating of Tyre Nichols will not end in horror but in hope. We know nothing but Jesus and him crucified so that we don’t cynically accept destroying our common home on earth as inevitable but capable of being redeemed. So by all means point toward the crucified God, the God who empties himself into the human condition. That is the only God worth pointing out, that is the God we glorify by our good deeds, that is the God who made us in such a way that no matter we have done or what has been done to us we can still let our little lights shine.