Matthew 5: 13-16

One of them was a ninth grader named Mike. Mike was not like any other kid in school. Everybody else seemed to have a particular group they fit in with. Mike fit in with all of them - or so it seemed to me. Everybody else seemed to want to stay in fashion in the way they dressed, wore their hair, and behaved. Mike didn't seem to follow any of those fashions - he had his own look. And yet, he was immensely popular - always seemed to have people around him - was sought out for clubs and gatherings. I felt like he had some kind of secret that I didn't know about.

Seventh graders can be quite cruel, and in my school, it came out to a girl named Susan, who moved into our class after the year had started. I realize now that she was of a different ethnic background, but all I knew at the time was that she dressed different, talked different, and acted different - not different in a cool way, but different in a strange way. Seventh grade is no time to be different - she was persecuted. She was either ignored or persecuted, depending on the mood of the day. I don't believe I actually took part in it - I was too shy for that. But I remember taking some joy in the fact that it was her and not me who got the cruel treatment. She was an outcast, and after a few months she was gone.

It was toward the end of that time that the incident in the cafeteria happened. The lunch room was its usual noisy place that day, with everybody sitting at their usual tables in their usual groups, when suddenly the noise was broken by the sound of a loud crash. It got suddenly quiet, and we looked to see that Susan, on her way to the table where she always ate alone, had dropped her tray of food, and her plate and food and silverware - everything - were clattering around on the floor. The initial stunned silence was broken by an undercurrent of laughter, and then the return to the noisy talk, no doubt with some jokes at Susan's expense. She stood there, almost on the verge of tears, and then she composed herself and stooped down to pick up her tray. And my heart yearned to help her; I longed to find a way to move my legs to go out and help her. The sight of her alone with everybody staring and laughing at her was almost unbearable, but I was frozen.

Somebody else, though, wasn't. It was Mike; he got up from his table, and he walked out into the middle of the floor, and once again things got quiet, as Mike, without saying a word, knelt down and helped her gather her things. He walked with her back into the kitchen, and talked to the servers. He got another tray of food, and then, without a word, he carried it for her to the place where she usually sat. And then he went back to his seat and quietly resumed eating his lunch. And if there is such a thing as an embarrassed silence, that's what was there in that cafeteria. Gradually, the normal noises returned - but in my ears, it was not the same as before. Something was different in that cafeteria; maybe in that school; absolutely in my mind.

There have been some times in my life when I have been able to overcome my natural shyness, and my natural inclination to hang back, and to step forward to do or say the right thing when it needed to be done or said. I have found boldness within me to step up for decency and for faith. In some sense I believe that I owe those things to Mike, and his boldness in helping a person in trouble. It was a small incident of five minutes - I don't know where Susan or Mike are today, and whether they even remember it. But it made a permanent impression in my mind.

What did Jesus mean when he told his disciples 'you are the salt of the earth?' What is the image of salt in your mind? Salt is a preservative - maybe disciples of Jesus preserve what's good and best in life. Salt is flavoring - maybe disciples of Jesus bring the flavoring of hope and peace to others. Here's something we can appreciate in a way that the disciples of Jesus maybe couldn't - salt melts ice and makes the roads safe - maybe disciples of Jesus melt cold hearts with love and caring, and thus bring safety to the road of life.

I have no clue whether Mike was a religious person or not, but, to me, he represents what Jesus was saying to his disciples - he brought flavor to life; he preserved decency in an indecent situation; he melted hearts.

And what did Jesus mean when he said, 'you are the light of the world?' Again, the image can take many forms: Most obviously, of course -light allows us to see things we could not see in the dark - maybe Christians help others to see the truth of their lives, and the truth of God's love always at work. Light on your path allows you to walk safely along the treacherous path - maybe Christians are those who give guidance to others along the way. And light represents warmth and welcome in the night - maybe Christians represent the warm love of God in an often unloving world - and the embrace of God to all who travel here.

There are people, aren't there, who have shed light on your path, to help you to know the truth about yourself, and help you to see the path so you can travel safely, and represent the hug and love of God to you. Some of these are the very people we give Valentines to tomorrow. But many others in our lives are like salt and light to bring the best things out in this world. Think of Scout leaders; think of Sunday School teachers; think of confirmation mentors; think of people at work who make the extra effort to brighten the day for others; think about those on the Care Committee who reached out; or about a neighbor who pitched in when you needed it.

Most often it's the small things. Salt and light are not the main things in themselves. I've known a lot of people who liked the flavor of salt, but I've never known anybody who liked to dip a spoon into a bag of it and just throw it into his or her mouth. It's not about the salt; it's about the stew that the salt flavors. In the same way, you don't turn on a lamp, and then stare at the light bulb. The object of turning on the lamp is not to see the lamp; it's to see the room.

And I think Christians get confused about that a lot. I think sometimes we want to be the stew instead of the salt. Or the room instead of the light. In other words, instead of flavoring this world with the love of Christ, we want to force-feed it. So we legislate the love of Christ; we force the love of Christ on others; we dictate the love of Christ. Here, have a good dose of salt. Problem is, that doesn't work very well. Too much salt just makes people want to gag. We have to trust the message of Jesus enough to not try to force it on people. It's good news; people want it. All Jesus needs is a little bit of salt and light, and he can do great things in this world.

Another thing that occurs to me is closely related - salt and light don't draw attention to themselves. Look at that last verse in our scripture lesson: "Let your light so shine before others, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven." Do you get that transfer there? They will see YOUR good works, and give glory to your FATHER in heaven."

I'm a big fan of recognition. I like to be recognized for doing something well as much as the next person. In our church, I think it's a good thing to recognize those who have done a good job. Those words of appreciation are like the blood flowing through the Body of Christ.

But in the end, the light doesn't shine for us - it shines for God. Whatever daydreams we might harbor within ourselves of being the ones who at last have arrived to save the world - the fact is, we can't save anybody. Human beings have accomplished some amazing thins in the course of history - great technological, scientific, medical breakthroughs. The one thing we can't break through is the human soul. There is just as much darkness in the human soul as there ever was - some people think more. So, if the object of our good works is to shine a light on what wonderful people we are, we're probably in for great disappointment.

Only God is worthy of praise; only God can save the world. But here's the amazing thing - here's what ultimately makes our lives meaningful. There is the possibility that our behavior - our good works shining before others - could point I people toward the love of God. That we can be the light of the world that lets people see that they are worthwhile, that they are loved, that Jesus would have died just for t them, that they are not alone in this world.

That's why this church is such a gift. The light of Jesus has shone from this location for over 160 years. Members of this church family have brought flavor and hope to the Cicero community. And we envision that light shining for many years to come, and are making plans to enable that to happen. They are bold plans; but salt and light are bold things. And just a little of each can go a long way toward making this world more loving, more special, more Christ-like. In this world, so unloving and unforgiving - acts of kindness and mercy are powerful things. They stand out. They make impressions on young minds that we don't even realize. In small, potent ways, they change the world.

This week, you have that potential. Two men were walking along the beach, and the tide was out - hundreds of starfish had been left in the sand. One of the men started to put them back into the water. "What are you doing?" said his friend. "You can't save all these fish." "No," said the man, smiling. "But I just saved that one."

You and I do our small part; Christ will save the world.