“Lamps and Tiki Torches: Bringing God’s Light to the World,” Matthew 5:13-20

(complete sermon with citations can be found here)

“Lamps and Tiki Torches: Bringing God’s Light to the World”

Fifth Sunday After Epiphany, Matthew 5:13-20

St. Paul Lutheran Church, Arlington, MA

Vicar Samm Melton-Hill

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In August of 2017, you might remember the protests that were taking place in Virginia surrounding Charlottesville's statue of a confederate soldier, Robert E. Lee. To remind you, the protest took place when white nationalists and social justice activists collided at the foot of the statue. The city of Charlottesville had begun removing confederate monuments from around the city after recognizing the violence and racism such memorials represent. However, many white nationalists political and hate groups wanted the statue to remain while others supported the city’s removal of such statues.

The protests made national headlines for many reasons, but the images that I recall most vividly from this time consisted of KKK members in hoods shouting racist slurs at the “Unite the Right” Rally. They included the infamous tiki torch protest, where white supremacists lit torches and marched to the statue with faces of anger. The images, I remember so vividly because of how they made me feel. The videos and pictures I’ve since watched again are so full of hatred and anger in a way that cuts deeply into my being. They were violent and angry and scary and simply terrible.

Yet, in the midst of this awfulness, I also remember another video that elicited strong feelings from me. Professors and pastors from divinity schools, seminaries, and congregations around the nation also marched to the foot of the statue as a sign of solidarity with those who would like the statue removed. But, this video is different. This group of clergy marched in the street, locked hand in hand, donning their clerical robes, cassocks, and stoles, never showing a sign of anger. Expectedly, when they clashed with the white supremacists, vile words of hatred, homophobic and racial slurs, and even death threats, were spewed at them.

NPR reported on the story and interviewed Reverend Osagyefo (Ahso-gufu) Sekou (Say-kou) a pastor from Jamaica Plain who was there. Rev. Sekou spoke about this clash, saying that the group of clergy, ‘had originally said we were going to stand silently... But the Nazis were marching past us in these various battalions, cursing and yelling — mostly homophobic slurs — at us. And you could feel the energy of the people who weren't with us, who we had not trained. [They] were getting amped up.’” Sekou says he knew that at that moment, he needed to change the atmosphere. He told the reporter: “I know song can do that. So I just broke into 'This Little Light of Mine.’”

There were several videos of this circulating on the internet at the time and the videos are moving to say the least. It starts with Sekou beginning the song by himself and soon grows into a passionate communal song of protest as hundreds of others join in and drown out the words of hatred from the other side.

And while this is a moving and beautiful story, I want to be clear here too- I don’t share this story with you as a sort of feel-good story that demonstrates the way that good overtakes evil or light outshines darkness. We can not risk cheapening what happened in Charlottesville. These protests were violent, they were painful for many people, and those same words of hatred spewed towards these protesters are still spewed daily to many people of color and those of the LGBTQ+ community across the nation. But at this moment, as people united together, song took over the space. A spirit descended upon the crowd.

The videos of protestors singing “This Little Light of Mine” in 2017 mirror the same photos of civil rights activists from the 1950’s whose voices of song echoed those of the ancestors who traveled the underground railroad of the 1800’s. The song itself draws together a history of people who were struggling for freedom. “This Little Light of Mine,” represents the lineage of oppressed and vulnerable people throughout history. It has grown to be more than a children’s song. And while it is unclear who wrote the song, we know that it is an African American Spiritual that had been in use long before hymn editor Harry Dixon Loes wrote it into dozens of hymnals. But what is interesting for us today is that most scholars agree that the hymn is based off of our Gospel reading from Matthew.

For context, this passage from Matthew comes at the end of Chapter 5. Rev. Chrissy reminds us that at the beginning of chapter 5 and going through chapter 7, Jesus preaches his Sermon on the Mount, “which is his attempt to teach his mission to his first disciples.” If you had to pick one passage to represent the ministry of Jesus, this would probably be one of the best ones to choose.

Just before this passage, we hear the blessing statements from Jesus- blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs in the kingdom of heaven; blessed are the peacemakers, for the will be called children of God- statements that helped Jesus to articulate his understanding of the broadness and richness of God's mercy. In the first part of this chapter Rev. Chrissy notes that “Jesus made clear that those who mourn, who are dis-spirited, and who are low in society's social order will be seen and tended to by God. More than that, they will be a part of Jesus' mission in the world. Jesus also affirmed that aligning oneself with God's purposes by being merciful, earnest, and by building peace is more important than participating in the manipulative, power-hungry, and violent structures of the empire.”

And this all comes before today’s reading. Today our passage is full of Jesus’ metaphors comparing the kingdom of heaven to both salt and light. These perhaps seem like odd subject choices to tell a story, but here, Jesus is pulling from the Jewish tradition in which he was deeply embedded in. While Jesus is telling his followers how to be in the world, he is pulling from what would have been familiar comparisons for his audience.

His Jewish audience was very familiar with the book of Leviticus, where salt was used to add flavor to food and to preserve it and was required to be a part of the grain offerings people brought to temple. They also would have known that in the book of Numbers, the promises and sacrifices that people make to God are called a "covenant of salt."

Salt, present in good food, tears, ocean water, and the earth, was part of everyday life. It was also vital to the well-being of humanity. We need salt in order to be healthy. In Jesus' estimation, the potential for following God was as deeply imbedded inside even the most common human as salt was in the seas that surrounded them. What that means for us is that our discipleship, our desire to follow Jesus, should be so ingrained in our being and our actions that were we to deny it, we would become as unrecognizable as salt that doesn't taste salty anymore.

Through this metaphor of salt, we are challenged by Jesus. Charles Cousar says that, “Jesus warns that salt can lose its capacity to season. It can fail to do what it is intended to do; it can become useless; it can be cast aside. Disciples, whether ancient or modern, hear in the image a warning to take seriously the call to mission, to the task of being the church in the world.”

And then Jesus moves onto his image of light. The same imagery used in the song, “This Little Light of Mine.” The light for Jesus was not simply a means to see at night, but it was also a common religious metaphor in his community. We might be familiar with Psalm 119, where God's word is described as a lamp unto one's feet and a light to one's path. But, Jesus does something a little different with the light metaphor here in Matthew.

Jesus shifts the location of the light from outside of the person to inside of the person. In this passage, God's light is not external to humanity, leading the way for us to follow. Instead, God's light, our discipleship, has become embedded in our being. In accepting our part in Jesus' mission, we become the flame, the very light of God ourselves.

Even here in Matthew, Jesus seems aware that, due to persecution and oppression from worldly powers around him, his followers will be tempted to hide their discipleship away, as though they are hiding a lamp under a heavy bushel basket. Jesus knows that it is tempting to tuck the radical word of God and the Gospel of justice under a heavy basket so that others will not see or find it- so that we don’t have to confront the darkness with our own light.

As a native midwesterner I get this temptation. I too, want to simply sweep all of my problems and insecurities under a rug so we don’t have to talk about them. I want to smooth things over so we can just “all get along.” I don’t want any problems and I’d prefer to run from conflict. But, here in Matthew, as Jesus teaches his followers how to live and be in the world, I believe that Jesus is challenging me to bring light to conflicts in the world too.

Jesus here, is reminding us that as Christians we are called to bring light to this world; that we are called to be in this world in a way that glorifies the spirit of God. This challenge is the heart of Jesus’s sermon. But with every challenge, there is a blessing hidden within. Most importantly for Jesus, embedded in this challenge is a message of love and grace.

Though we are to be challenged to bring light to the world, Jesus reminds us that we already have light within us. He reminds us that we are good. That when others tell us that we are not worthy of love, Jesus reminds us that we are divinely loved. When the world tells us that our voice doesn’t matter, he reminds us that our voice is needed. When our actions feel unappreciated, he reminds us that he sees us. Jesus reminds us that when he calls us beloved in our baptism, when he invites us to the table, he means it.

The hard part of Jesus’ sermon is both accepting that light from Jesus figuring out how to bring it to the world around us. The hard part is that its up to us.

For the pastors standing hand in hand in Charlottesville singing “This Little Light of Mine,” this was their way of bringing light to a dark place. But, perhaps this looks different for you. Maybe for you, it looks like bringing a smile to work for others. Maybe, it’s simply making coffee for your loved one in the morning or volunteering to take the dog out when its cold and rainy. Maybe it's joining a community green team. Maybe it's marching in protests throughout the country. Maybe it's voting in November. Maybe it's reminding others that it's Black History Month. Maybe it’s making sure everyone's voice in the room is heard. Maybe it’s simply being with someone in the midst of their darkness. And maybe you don’t know yet.

While I have some ideas, I don’t have an answer to this challenge for you, but I do know that there is a community here to support and encourage you on that mission.

Today, Jesus is reminding us that we are called into his loving arms, that as he hugs us, he whispers in our ear “you are loved,” and then he looks us in the eye and asks us to show that love to others. And when we ask, “how?” he simply looks around you, gesturing to the world and saying, “wherever you want, wherever you are needed, and wherever you are called.”

Amen.

Image: Angela Hsieh, NPR