
Wonderful to preach and lead the congregation in Affirmation of Baptism at Fairfield Community Church in Fairfield, WA south of Spokane Valley. This is one of our PCUSA-ELCA congregations, fully a member of both church families. They are in a season of pastoral transition and are served by Presbyterian Lay Pastor Joe Bruce. Historically a farming community, Fairfield is not surprisingly becoming more of a bedroom community for Spokane, and this church is reaching out consistently to newer residents. They are helped in that outreach by their well established pre-school, a ministry of the church. Thanks for a wonderful morning Fairfield.

Matt. 5:13-20, Isaiah 58:1-12
This was one of those weeks during which I was reminded how much a congregation is captive to the type of week or weeks the preacher had. A friend and I are re-reading an old leadership book, and it has made me think about every mistake I’ve ever made and all of my inadequacies. At the same time, I am shepherding pastors, deacons, and lay leaders across the synod who struggle with their own feelings of enoughness. They feel this way because they know the church has a different place in society than when many of us were growing up. As the epidemic of loneliness spreads, they yearn to bring a cure to all people—a herculean task.
I have often suffered from what one of my best friends calls a case of the shoulds. I should be doing this or that, I should have done this. I should do this one thing and then I will be enough—for myself, the universe, in the eyes of God. And we live in a society which seems to demand the lethal combination of perfection and productivity. How much weight are you supposed to lose in the new year? How many hours are you supposed to put in at your job? Are students achieving the right test scores? Are you making enough money?
And sometimes, if we are not careful, our theology gets mixed up with these earthly expectations which are so antithetical to the gospel. We think we will only be right with God if we accomplish x, y, and z. This of course makes everything all about us—it shows, at least in my own case, how I am curved in on myself rather than looking to the triune God. This becomes its own idolatry.
So, in other years my sermon on these verses from Matthew might go a very different direction, this week I find it utterly life-giving and I experience pure joy to hear Jesus’ declaration this morning. You are the salt of the earth. Period. You are the light of world. Period. There is no you are salt and life IF or, you will be salt and light AFTER. It’s pure declaration. As one author put it, “The office of the prophet has now fallen on this new community, who has become salt and light for the world. (Hauerwas)”
All we did was say “Yes. I will and ask God to help and guide me” at our baptisms, and yet through the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus makes us salt and light. It is so. In our passage from Matthew, Jesus addresses his disciples and the crowd. The “you” is a “you all.” In other words. You all are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. At other times in his ministry, Jesus will warn about the public practice of one’s righteousness. But today Jesus encourages the people to let others see their good works. Why? Not for their or our praise, but for the praise of God.
And I love that I get to preach on this text in a congregation where I can say with deep integrity, you have been salt and light. Towards the end of this same gospel, Jesus will tell his famous parable explaining that the righteous, those right with God, will be those who fed, gave drink, welcomed the stranger, gave clothing, visited those sick and in prison to the least of these brothers and sister, you did it to me, to Jesus himself.” You are a congregation that takes seriously food and hunger ministry: community meals, meals for kids, food drives, and more. But you don’t just give food as charity, you provide space for bread to be broken around the table, for conversations, for relationship, and for belonging. You are the light of the world.
Speaking of children, at least from the outside, you seem to have found a way to provide space for children from all across the Fairfield community to be welcomed and loved just as they are. And you have found gentle and honest ways to tell them that Jesus love is for each of them. Child development experts have long contended that in order to thrive, every child needs five consistent caring adults in their lives in addition to their parents. For the kids you walk with, you are a real part of making that a reality. You all are the salt of the earth.
My assumption is that this is also a place of acceptance and belonging for adults in the community, both church members but also others who help with your outreach, service, or fun community gatherings. In a world where we think we should feel connected to the world because we have access to so much through the internet, but our souls long for in person embodied fellowship, your church again provides something essential, space where people feel truly seen. You all are the light of the world.
Finally, I know that you live your faith out in your daily lives. Like the farm families I served as a young pastor in Western Iowa, so much of that faith is connected to your relationship to the land—to being stewards of God’s good creation, to contending with commodity markets, weather, scientific advances, and so much more as you care for land passed on to your families. That in itself is holy work. You are the salt of the earth.
In our introduction to the sacrament of Holy Baptism, the leader proclaims that “We are united with all the baptized in the one body of Christ, anointed with the gift of the Holy Spirit, and joined in God’s mission for the life of the world.” Y’all are salt of the earth. Y’all are the light of the world.
What is Jesus’ own context for today’s teaching? Jesus preaches as a teacher who is steeped within the Jewish tradition and Jewish faith. That is, Jesus should not be understood as offering something that supersedes the law. Instead, his teaching should be viewed as that of one who holds the law in the greatest respect.
One scholar suggested that “Jesus’ teachings, then, are best understood as those of a Jewish reformer, not as those of one who is attempting to denigrate and displace an ‘outdated’ religious system.” Jesus is at once doing something new; he is God incarnate after all, and Jesus is one in a long line of Jewish teachers and prophets.
We keep Jesus’ own company by looking at a text he would have known, our scripture passage from Isaiah. Jesus himself is looking at a crowd of people who are in many ways being crushed by the power of the Roman Empire. His audience would have resonated with Isaiah’s situation. It’s a time and place when the people wonder how is God present in a context with so much misery, poverty, injustice, and infighting? And in these conditions, what does salty salt taste like? What does light that is allowed to shine do?
Isaiah 58 shares the condemnation of hypocritical worship practices found so often in the prophets. Proper fasting, says Isaiah, is to loose the bonds of injustice, let the oppressed go free, feed the poor, and clothe the naked. In other words, fasting is not simply a ritual exercise done by an individual for his or her own benefit. By freeing the worshiper from concern for the self, fasting contributes to God’s mission of justice and liberation for all people.
Isaiah calls the people to restore and mend the divided community, mirroring God’s restorative action outlined earlier. The community will “represent and resemble God in the world.” This is a perfect place to lift up the Jewish notion of Tiqum Olam, the mending of the world. How might our actions, great and small, play a role in mending the world? What does it look like to follow God in building, restoring, feeding, clothing, caring, and repairing individuals and a community in need?
Before we get too far building that long list, it is good to hear one more final word of promise, this time from Isaiah, who declares, “You shall cry for help, and [God] will say, Here I am” (v. 9). “Here I am” is the typical and appropriate biblical response of a person called by a superior or by God. It was in fact Isaiah’s response when God commissioned him to be a prophet. But now, surprisingly, God takes those words of quintessential human response into God’s own mouth. Now, God says, “Here I am.”
I assume many of you have experiences with Camp Lutherhaven and Camp Spaulding. I know you provide camperships for youth attending Lutherhaven. I served as a pastor in the Boise area for 12 years before being elected bishop, Our camp in southern Idaho, up in the Sawtooth Moutains, is Luther Heights Bible Camp. Back in 2016, then Luther Heights program coordinator (and gifted musician) Allie McIntosh was commissioned to compose a blessing for the end of the camp week. These verses from Isaiah 58 inspired the bridge of the blessing she composed. Now, at the end of each week of camp, campers going down the mountain hear their counselors remind them, “Then you will call. And the Lord will answer. You’ll cry for help, and he will say “Here I am!” Thanks be to God for the one who answers all our cries as we try to help usher in the reign of God.

































