Salted Caramel

Matthew 5:13-20

When I first began hearing about salted caramel a couple of years ago, I was not impressed. I was, in fact, quite skeptical. Putting salt on caramel just sounded plain weird. Why mess up perfectly good caramel by sprinkling it with salt, I wondered? When some well-intentioned person gave me a box of salted caramel chocolate candy, I put it aside. I was not convinced I would find this confection to my liking.

But then the flavor became wildly popular. You see it now in everything from ice cream to flavored coffee. So, I finally tried it, and once I did, found that I like it. I really, really like it. You see, as strange as it may sound, a little bit of salt brings out the sweetness in the caramel. The salt rounds out the edges of the chocolate; it highlights the smooth sweetness of the buttery, creamy caramel.

A little bit of salt can transform what it touches. I wonder if this is what Jesus had in mind when he spoke with his disciples that day. A little salt – can transform the world.

When used appropriately salt brings out the flavor of whatever it is sprinkled on. And Jesus declared that his disciples are the salt of the earth!

Salt alone isn’t worth much. But applied to or mixed with something else, salt brings out the flavor of whatever it is sprinkled on. In ancient times, salt was more than just a flavor enhancer. Salt was in indispensable commodity which served as a preserving and purifying agent, was used to sterilize fields and was used in connection with grain offerings and sacrifices in the temple. Salt was used when a sacred bond was forged between two parties. And in the Gospel text today Jesus declares that his disciples are the salt of the earth! Not will be or should be, but already are salt of the earth.

Most of us know that food without salt seems tasteless. We need a bit of salt to brighten the flavor on our tongues and in our lives. Most of the time, salt does its best work when it compliments, highlights, and brings out other flavors in food without bringing notice to itself. And saltiness as Jesus speaks of it, points to the kingdom of God. How blessed are we to be used as seasoning for God’s realm.

Today’s Gospel text is a continuation of the Sermon on the Mount which began last week; in fact, today’s reading follows directly on the heels of what we know as the Beatitudes.

At the beginning of this core teaching, Jesus stirred our moral imagination: the blessed are already among us, he told his disciples and they are not who you might think.

In the realm of God it is not the wealthy, powerful, happy-go-lucky, and strong who are blessed, but the meek, the poor in spirit, those who mourn, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness and justice, those who are pure in heart, the merciful, the peacemakers, and the Christ-followers whom God raises up.  It is not the haves but the have-nots whom God favors. Further, Jesus said, you are blessed not when you possess qualities the world embraces but when you follow Jesus and live Jesus’ values and are persecuted for doing so.

Today we might see them as the soldier with PTSD, or the new mom with severe post-partum depression, or the bi-polar friend or acquaintance. Or perhaps you might know them as the teen who is bullied in school and on-line, or the family member who struggles with alcoholism or drug addiction, the aged person who mourns over the many losses they experience for just having lived so long; or the homeless person you encounter on the street or at the shelter. You know, the ones who feel farthest from being blessed.

But Jesus doesn’t stop there. Remember? Jesus includes as blessed the ones who see the least among us as beloved of God and reach out to help them – organizations that seek to assist the man, woman or child – refugees - who have been driven from their home by religious, economic or political oppression and violence; or the church that welcomes the LGBTQ teen and reminds him that he is a Child of God, and that nothing can strip him of that identity, or the ministry group that work with the ex-con to help her find a path to new life upon release from prison, or the faithful Christian who loves God and  struggles to discern what it means to live her faith in the current atmosphere of division, hostility and judgement.

In today’s gospel Jesus follows the Beatitudes by telling his disciples that they are salt and light for the world. Notice, Jesus doesn’t just compare his disciples to salt and light, or tell them that they need to become like salt and light. Rather, Jesus says they are already the salt of the earth; made that way not by their own doing but by the grace of God. And it is God’s grace to which the Sermon on the Mount pushes us.

Jesus makes a promise to his disciples in this text this morning: You are the salt of the earth and the light of the world, a sheer blessing to those who hunger because of who God created you to be, and God, who is righteous, sends you into the world as valuable as this commodity, blessing you in order that the world might be blessedly transformed.

Together, my friends, we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world, shining God’s love and light into the world by our very being, surprising the world with our saltiness and our light.

This community is created by God for relationship with God, with each other, and most of all, to the neighbor we are called to serve. Jesus has called us each to come together with other disciples in worship to our Lord, to be fed, strengthened, forgiven for the times we forget whose light we are sent to bear and then to be sent out into the world to be salt the world and increase its flavor – to soften the sharp edges of injustice and to sweeten the diversity in our world through our inclusivity, helping transform the bitterness of suffering through a word of God’s grace.

The salted followers of Christ round out the flavors of the world by pursuing justice for the least among us. We recall that salt does its best work when it compliments, highlights, and brings out other flavors in food without bringing notice to itself. Our saltiness is for the sake of the kingdom of God; we are seasoning for God’s realm.

Retaining the best properties of salt, therefore, is important. We maintain our saltiness through worship, by remaining close to the word of God, through daily prayer and reflection on the scriptures.

As a community in relationship to each other our salt blends and mingles with our many flavors bringing out the best in our community and in our world. It is in grace-shaped, salt-seasoned relationships through which Christ’s disciples best reflect the grace and richness of the kingdom.

Jesus also calls his disciples to be the light of the world, and in the text today he warns his disciples against hiding their light; a light which cannot be seen or doesn’t actually shine is useless in revealing the good which leads to the praise and glory of God. You might recognize words from verse 16, “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good work and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

These words are said at each baptism, as the baptismal candle is lit and presented to the newly baptized. Again, we are not called to become the light of the world, we already are the light of the world, gifted in baptism to shine brightly for the sake of God’s kingdom.

It is through baptism that God turns us into salt and light. Through the Holy Spirit we are given the stuff that we need to shine our light on God’s love and care for the world. We are called to be disciples and to follow Jesus up the mountainside, to sit at his feet and learn there how to retain our saltiness and our light so that it shines appropriately – not on us, but on God and the good that God is doing in the world.

In worship come together to be empowered to action and service in Jesus’ name. We are blessed to praise and glorify God as the community God draws together to be salt and light. God expects great things from us! God expects godly things from us. God expects us to salt and light the world with his grace and love.

In the first reading this morning Isaiah reminds us what it means to maintain our saltiness with an outward-looking perspective and reach on the world God has placed in our care. Isaiah’s words convey the same values that Jesus raises up: to loose the bonds of injustice, undo the thongs of the yoke, let the oppressed go free, to break every yoke. As salt and light for the world, in Jesus’ name we are called to share our food with the hungry, give shelter to the homeless poor, to cover the naked, provide clean water for the thirsty, to love the lonely, isolated ones, to comfort the grieving and despairing ones, to speak for the voiceless ones, to love the unlovable ones, and to constantly turn to the Word of God for the strength and wisdom to carry these things out.

Today we may worry about the dwindling size of Christian churches around the world – but remember what a little bit of salt can do.

God makes us salt and light to shine thousands of points of light into the darkness, to round out the sharp edges of the world to bring out its sweetness; to highlight God’s grace and mercy, love and everlasting presence through our interactions and works. Whether we do that by swinging a hammer with Habitat for Humanity or making a meal and sitting with residents of the Interfaith Shelter, or making bagged lunches to deliver to the homebound, or giving cans of soup and coins for the hungry, may God bless us and those we serve, making our world and the lives God touches through us sweeter and smoother by our salt. Amen.

The Demands of a Broken-Hearted God

Galatians 3:23-29 & Luke 8:26-39

For many of us, thinking back on the parent-child relationship calls to mind complicated feelings and memories, especially as they apply to the demands of our parents. Who here does not remember a time, when their parents seemed overly demanding, with high expectations and what you deemed as low tolerance for goof-ups? Even in the best parent-child relationships, although the intent of the parent is good, reasonable and responsible, the demands of a parent may seem harsh and unwelcomed. Especially during those rebellious, teenage years. Sometimes those feelings persist into adulthood.

Well, my friends, the truth is, ours is a demanding, unsettling God, a God who also makes demands of us, demands we are often unprepared to hear and unwilling to follow.

We much prefer the God who is full of grace, (which he is) who forgives us all our sins, (which, through Christ, he does), who promises us great things, who blesses us abundantly, who is ever for us and ever before us, and never asks us for a thing.

So, while it is true that God is the giver of all good things, there is also the other aspect of God, the God who, in relationship with us says, “yes, I love you and you are mine, and there is nothing in this world or the next that can change that. I have given you unending life through Jesus. But it is not for you alone. It is for the goodness of the kingdom of God in which you have a stake. Therefore, there are things I need you to do.” And then come the demands.

The demands of God begin with things like,

believe in me,

trust in me,

            love me, and

be still, and know that I am God.  

            Frankly, those seem like okay demands, inviting us into a relationship where God is our rock.

But then, there are these others: Look out and stand up for those who are ignored, preyed upon, or oppressed. Show mercy to all, love the stranger, forgive as you wish to be forgiven. Turn away from the things that have come before, and follow me by following Jesus.  

Of course there are these demands we Lutherans especially love to hate – “go!” Jesus says, “Go out into the world; spread the good news; tell my story; tell others about the good things you have seen and heard. And remember, to follow me, you will love like me, live like me, and die like me.”

Whoa! These demands are a little more tricky, and we are as resistant to those as we were to those of our earthly parents.

Then we realize the truth: This loving, demanding God has expectations. And it is our nature to push back against them. They are demands we often ignore. They call us out of our comfort zone. They make this relationship with God not about me anymore, but about God, and about the things and the people God values and cares for.

When it comes right down to it, these demands have one thing at the core – love. They all hinge on what Jesus called the great commandment, that we love the Lord our God above everything else and that love be at the core of all we do, of our relationships with all people.

Obeying God then becomes about sharing this love that Jesus modeled so perfectly and allowing it to shape our lives so clearly that others will see and know that we are disciples of Christ.

Events in our world today call us to be ever more faithful stewards of this family that God has created but which has become so fractured and torn apart by sin.  These events testify just how much the world needs to know the healing, saving, inclusive love of God. It is this love, created by faith through Christ, of which Paul writes when he argues that in Christ, we are made children of God and we are clothed with Christ.

Because of Jesus, within the human family created by God, there is to be no  distinction – no difference - among us. In Paul’s words, There is no longer Jew or Greek, no longer slave or free, no longer male or female. There is to be among us no distinction by age, class, color, language, nationality, sexuality or religion.

In the human family of God’s creation we are all one, while at the same time expressing the individuality with which we are blessed in myriad ways. We are all members of one family, where love and acceptance, mutual respect and equality are presumed. In this family of God, we are not all the same, but we are all cherished the same, with no distinction in the economy of God’s care – black, white, Christian, Jew, Muslim, agnostic, Taoist; rich, and poor, straight or queer, God has created and loves us all.

In the past year, as we have watched, horrified at events unfolding in the world all around us, we have become more aware than ever of our own failures and at the systemic failure to make God’s way known. It was one year ago this week that the massacre of black Christians during a bible study in a church in Charleston, South Carolina took place; a massacre committed by one of our own, deeply entrenched in racist ideology.

A week ago, as we gathered for worship here in our sanctuary, news outlets were broadcasting the horrific details, yet unfolding, of another, larger, hate-inspired massacre, a mass killing that has earned the distinction of “largest-ever,” mass shooting in our country. The divide in our culture and in our country is so wide, and the bigotry and hatred of groups so pervasive, that this kind of violence has become routine, except by its scope. Who is possessed by demons now?

It has to stop. This, has. To. Stop. The God we experience and know abhors the killing, abhors the hatred, and is deeply saddened by the divisions and in-fighting that follows every one of these atrocities. We live in a society that is so divided by our differences that rather than come together in solidarity following each of these tragedies, we become further polarized.

The God who gave his own son over to death for the salvation of the world is a demanding God, a God who demands our love not only for Godself but for one another. The God who demands our compassion be poured out on the “least of these” will not stop sending us out to heal the sick and tend to the broken-hearted, and commands our love for all people.

The texts we have before us today invite and demand our participation in the mission of reaching out to those who are disenfranchised, those who are hated, those who are persecuted. The texts we have before us today testify to just how much the world needs to know the healing, saving, inclusive love of God.

In our Gospel story, Jesus and the disciples have just crossed the sea on their way to Gerasa, which is in Gentile territory. On the way the disciples’ boat was beset by a storm, which Jesus miraculously stilled – the discipes are amazed and frightened – how is it that Jesus has the power to still a stormy sea, calm the winds, and transform their terror?

When they arrive on the distant shore, they encounter a Gentile man whom Jesus heals, from whom demons, who obey Jesus’ command, are driven. Not only does the natural world of wind and rain and catapulting waves obey Jesus, but the supernatural world of demons knows and obeys him as well.

Jesus heals and transforms a man who has been so encumbered by demons that his whole identity has been swallowed up by their possession of him. So overcome by demons has the life of this man become that when Jesus asks him his name, he tragically replies not with a name as you and I have, but with a label that underscores the horrible possession he has endured – one that has rendered him inhuman. But Jesus knows better. Jesus connects him to his humanity.

My friends, there is nowhere that God will not go to reach, love and free those who are broken and despairing. Not only is the demoniac a Gentile, living in the wrong zip code, without a name of his own or an identity, but because of the demons possessing him, he has been hanging out in the tombs – you know – where dead people are lain.

On so many accounts, it would be understandable for Jesus to pass him by. He is perilously unclean – he is possessed by an unclean spirit, living in an unclean place, among the dead. By any measure, one to be avoided and despised. This is the very last place Jesus should be, and the very last person Jesus should have anything to do with. And yet – that is exactly where God usually shows up.

After his healing, he sits at the feet of Jesus – this is the place disciples sit. He wants to go where Jesus will go when he returns to Galilee. But Jesus tells him, no, stay and go – go tell the story of what I have done for you.

They will see your transformation and understand my power and authority.

Tell them that there is nowhere that God will not go to breathe life into those who are dead. Jesus does not leave this man unforsaken, but transformed. David Lose writes:

“…there is no place on earth that is God-forsaken. Moreover, and more importantly, there is no person that is God-forsaken. Unclean. Outcast. Abandoned. Unpopular. Incarcerated. Unbeliever. No one is left out. Consider, there is no indication that this Gentile man later became Jewish or, for that matter, Christian. He wants to follow Jesus, but Jesus sends him back home with the instructions, “Go and tell what God has done for you.”

To put all this another way: There are no conditions to be met to receive God’s love. You don’t have to be wealthy…or poor. You don’t have to be from one ethnic group…or another. You don’t have to have believed your whole life, or come to faith only recently, or have any faith at all. Jesus seeks out everyone, even this unclean man possessed by an unclean spirit living in an unclean place. And just so God loves all: male and female; young and old; gay or straight; white, black, Asian, Latino; believers and non-believers; Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Muslim, atheist; the list goes on.

“Which might make us ask, where are we willing to go? Whom are we willing to love? In the wake of one more violent crime of hate and terror, we need, I think, first to be reminded that God is always among those in greatest pain and need and, second, that we are sent to go and do likewise. This week, that means God was particularly present in Orlando, and so should we, whether physically present, via vigil other means of support, or in our own corporate and personal prayer.

“This is not often easy work, of course, but we take it up and go out knowing that as God is sending us, God is with us, working through us to seek out those in need, to share a word of mercy and grace, and to witness to the hope we have in Jesus, the one who continues to seek us out when we feel down and out, caught in the shadow lands, eager for a new name, identity and future. 

Thanks be to God!