'And' as a glue word
I love how when children tell stories, it’s often just one big run-on sentence. Like, they’ll say, “I found a rock on the playground and I gave it to my friend and I went down the slide and my teacher saw me on the swing and my friend Max was sick and Mrs Davies built a tower and Mr Johnson read a story about a ladybug and the ladybug was friends with an elephant and…and…”
In the English language, they say that ‘and’ is a glue word. It functions as a grammatical link to connect words, phrases, or independent clauses of equal importance. That’s why children’s stories tend to be one big run-on sentence because to them, every one of those details is of equal importance.
Jesus’ 'Sermon on the Mount', is kind of like one big run-on sentence. The author of Matthew’s gospel is trying to string together a bunch of Jesus’ ideas that are of equal importance. The Sermon on the Mount is found in chapters 5 through 7 of Matthew’s gospel. Before that, in chapters 1 through 4, Jesus is preparing to go on tour, to begin his public ministry. He is baptized. He is tested by the devil. He calls the first disciples.
Then, in chapter 5 he sits down with his disciples and says, right, this is what following me will require of you: it’s going to mean turning away from everything God is not and turning towards everything God has created you to become. Blessed are you, not when you are privileged and powerful, but when you are poor or standing with the poor in the struggle for justice. Blessed are you, not when you have taken land for yourself but when you are working to return land to those who have been dispossessed. Blessed are you when you act not with impunity, but with mercy, when you are persecuted and reviled for sticking up for the little guy.
It’s against this backdrop that in today’s reading, Jesus teaches his disciples what kind of impact they will make in the world should they choose to live the way of Jesus. They will be like salt, and like a city built on a hill that cannot be hidden, and like a lamp put, not under a bushel, but on a lampstand.
And. And. And.
When Jesus says “You are the salt of the earth” and “You are the light of the world” he’s talking in the plural. Y’all people of St Clement’s are the salt of the earth. Y’all are the light of the world. We go about being salt and light as a community. Being Christ’s hands and feet in the world isn’t a men’s or a woman’s singles figure skating event; it’s a team sport. Remember that salt works when it is used with food to bring out the food’s flavour. You pour salt into your mouth by itself? Yuck! Likewise, light without anyone there to make use of it is just wasted electricity. Raise your hand if you’re the person in your household who always forgets to turn out the lights!
When Jesus tells his disciples that they are the salt of the earth and the light of the world he is describing an existing state. Who they are, here and now, in his presence, is all they need to act as salt and light in the world. Who you are, here and now in God’s presence, is all you need, to be God’s salt and light in the world. So, let your light shine, or as preacher Melanie Howard puts it: “Allow your core essence to be made [even] more evident.” You are salt and light now, not in some distant future.
And, while we’re being salt and light in the world, in the second half of today’s reading Jesus reminds his disciples that there is no being so salty, or so on fire for God that you win your place in God’s kingdom over and above some other community of believers. There is no, “Well, we serve the poor better than those Christians do.” Nor is there the opposite, but equally prideful sentiment: “We’ll never be able to do youth ministry as well as those churches do.”
“Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,” Jesus says. We might put Jesus’ words this way: unless the individual religious commitment of each member in your community exceeds that of all of the Mother Theresas and the Mahatma Ghandis and the Nelson Mandelas and the Murray Sinclairs and the Malalas of the world, there is nothing you alone can do to earn this extravagant love of God. Because God’s kingdom isn’t like other kingdoms; it isn’t built on mastering some recipe for discipleship; it’s built on love freely given and received. It’s built on a light that so shines before others and a light that doesn’t blind people while it’s shining. It’s built on salt that gives flavour to a banquet feast and it’s built on a feast that isn’t so salty the guests wish they had declined their dinner invitation. Jesus’ teachings are full of ‘ands’; full of seeming contradictions, of equally important ideas strung together. It's our job to be the glue that binds them. Amen.
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