O God, we give you thanks for salting us
with your grace and pray that might always have peace with you ✠ in the name of the Father,
Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
I pray that this sermon series on “What is the Church?” has been fruitful. The idea was that as we were emerging out of the pandemic and trying to re-establish some sense of normal, we needed to get back to the basics to build on a solid foundation. So we’ve considered questions about the purpose of the Church, why we should come to Church, and what words like discipleship and faith are all about. Which leaves us with one last question – what should we even be Christian?
Now,
even asking such a question reveals our modern context where we overemphasize
ideas like freedom, choice, and autonomy. To be abundantly clear – us being Christians
was God’s idea long before it was our idea. The refrain we heard in the Psalm
this morning was “If the Lord had
not been on our side.” Through and through, Christianity is about God’s story,
not ours. We don’t bring God into the story of our lives, rather God brings us
into the story of love that began before even time did.
People
in different times and cultures understand this – but we’ve deluded ourselves
with too much emphasis on the individual. And so we erroneously think that
Christianity is something that we choose to be or not to be, that faith is up
to us, that discipleship is a decision we have to make. But that’s giving
ourselves far too much credit. Certainly, we have a role to play in our faith,
but we are the actors, not the director or the screenwriter.
We
aren’t used to this though – our society is infatuated with choice: what school
do my kids go to, which of the dozens of toothpaste options is right for me,
should I get vaccinated or not, do I feel like going to church today or not?
But we have to understand just how odd we are. Most humans across space and time
would be utterly baffled by the narcissistic way in which we view our lives as
a series of independent and personal choices. We put so much emphasis and
energy on making choices and maintaining our rights to do so that we often
forget that the choice is just the doorway. Instead, the real question isn’t
what choice to make, but what do we do with what we are given.
So
the question “why be Christian?” really is a modern one, and not a particularly
good one. We are Christians because our parents made us into one. We are Christian
because, although we resisted it with all of our might, the unrelenting grace
of God found its way into our hardened hearts. We are Christian because God
needs someone to feed the hungry, and care for the sick, and teach children,
and forgive their enemies, and be generous with their money, and to witness to
the power of love, and for whatever reason, God thinks that we are the sort of
people that would be useful at those sorts of things.
The
problem with asking “why be Christian” is that it’s just so consumeristic – we expect
the answer to be a list of all the benefits that we’ll get out of choosing this
way of life. But, if we’re going to be really honest about it, being a
Christian probably isn’t something that most of us would choose if we had the
choice. Really – I mean we’re expected to love our enemies, admit our faults
and imperfections, give our time to working with people that society trains us
to look down on, donate our money to perpetuate an institution like the Church
which, to be fair, has a checkered past. And the way you enter into the
Christian faith and life is through Baptism – a ritual dying to self.
Christians, if they are practicing their faith, are going to stick out like a
sore thumb in our culture. I’m not saying the Amish are perfect at being
Christians, but when society looks at them, we all think “Huh – look at that.
They actually believe something and live their lives differently because of it.”
That also ought to be how people talk about us – “Yea, I know she’s a bit out
there, but, you know, she is a Christian.”
Now
you can certainly find a heretical version of Christianity in America, and
particularly in non-denominational congregations, though, you can also find
this mindset here at St. Luke’s, that speaks about all the good things that we
get out of faith. This is called the Prosperity Gospel – where we are assured
that if we just have enough faith, and do enough good things, then God will
bless us with health and wealth. When we think in these terms, we’re asking “What
do I get out of this?” Which really is a rather immature question to ask of
God. Life is a gift. Grace is a gift. Faith is a gift. And these gifts are
given out of love by our loving Creator who knows us far better than we know ourselves.
And so the question – “Yea, but why should I be a Christian” is to ignore the
gift and confuse ourselves with God.
What,
then, is a better way to get at this question? It’s certainly something we
wonder about. Right or wrong, we do think in these terms. Instead of approaching
this idea through the lens of our choice, what might it look like to think
about being a Christian in terms of alignment? A metaphor for faith that I like
to use comes from music. Those of you who are musicians will have to forgive me,
as a non-musician, if I don’t quite get this right. But when I go to a
symphony, I notice that all of the various players get their instruments out
and start warming up. But as we get close to the start, the first chair
violinist, under the direction of the conductor, plays a note and then everyone
else tunes their instruments to match that note so that when the music begins,
everyone will be in harmony. In their warmups, I’m sure every musician thought
they were in tune, but maybe they were off just a bit. Christians are people who
know that we are out of tune, but through the note that is sounded under the
direction of God by the Church, we strive to find harmony with God and others
so that we can make some beautiful music.
So
the question of faith isn’t “Why should I do these things and be a Christian,”
the question is really “Do I want to be in tune or out of tune with the deepest
truths of the universe?” I really do like this metaphor for faith, and I offer
it in thanksgiving for the ministry of Matt Woods among us over the past four
years. Matt has helped us all, through the gift of church music, to bring our
voices into tune the beautiful song of God’s love.
The
metaphor that Jesus uses isn’t music, but rather salt. Perhaps we are most
familiar with the statement in Matthew that “You are the salt of the earth,”
but here in Mark, Jesus also speaks about being salted with fire, noting that salt
is good, and that we should have salt in ourselves. Salt, while something we
are familiar with, isn’t something we think about all that often, unless your physician
has told you that you need to lay off of it. Salt, especially in Jesus’ time, is
an incredibly important thing.
Salt
has medicinal purposes. We’ve all heard the phrase about rubbing salt in the wound.
While it’s painful, it’s also healing. And though it doesn’t taste great, most
of us know that gargling salt water can help with a sore throat. Salt is also essential
for our body’s health. Yes, too much salt is a bad thing, but not enough salt
is also a problem. As we also know from cooking – salt adds to and brings out
the flavor of things. Salt is absolutely essential in making food taste its
best. In the ancient world, before refrigeration or artificial preservatives,
salt was how fish and meats were kept fresh for long periods of time. Without
salt, there was hunger. Salt was also used in religious sacrifices. As we read
in Leviticus, “You shall not omit from your grain-offerings the salt of the
covenant with your God; with all your offerings you shall offer salt.” So salt
was a signal for covenants and communion with God. One more interesting thing
about salt – it’s where the word “salary” comes from. Salt was such a valuable
commodity in the ancient world, that Roman soldiers were sometimes paid in
salt, and their salt allotment became known as a salarium.
So
when Jesus speaks about being salty, all of these images are being conjured up:
health, flavor, covenant, preservation, and wages. Being a Christian is about
being salty. Medicinally, the salt of grace heals up our wounds. As a
preservative, the salt of hope allows us to fix our eyes on God, even during
struggles and challenges, preserving us in God’s love. As a culinary ingredient,
God has salted us to bring out the flavors of generosity, compassion, and
forgiveness in this world. Relationally, we are brought into covenant with God
through Jesus Christ. And as a salary, we are salted lavishly by God not as a
reward for what we’ve done, but because God loves us. Everything that we truly
need has been provided by God through the Church – meaning, purpose, identity, grace,
love, community, fellowship.
So
the question really isn’t “Why be a Christian,” it’s a question of whether we
are salty or salt that has lost its saltiness. You might wonder how salt loses
its saltiness – I did. In the region, salt generally came from the Dead Sea – but
the salt formations there are not pure sodium chloride, other minerals are
mixed in with it. And so sometimes the salt would evaporate out and only the mineral
gypsum would remain. Gypsum looks very much like salt, but isn’t salty because
it isn’t salt. Chalk and plaster are made from gypsum – so imagine flavoring your
eggs with chalk. Not exactly what we’re going for.
And
so Jesus tells us to have salt in ourselves. Be the salt of the earth that God
has made us to be. In thinking about a question like “Why be Christian” that’s
like asking salt why it’s so salty. That’s how it is supposed to be. If we run
into something that looks like salt but doesn’t add any flavor, doesn’t
preserve anything, doesn’t bring us into relationship with God, then we’d
wonder what it’s for. If we have to ask why we should be Christian, it just
tells us that we’re not seeing faith as God has gifted it to us in Jesus.
In
wrapping up a series on the nature of the Church, I would be remiss if I
concluded with anything other than the Holy Eucharist. You all have probably figured
out that the Eucharist is central to my spirituality and understanding of faith
– but this isn’t something I chose. For 2,000 years, the Eucharist has been the
center of the Church’s identity, witness, and mission. It is how Jesus himself
told us to remember and anticipate him. Whether we think of faith in terms of
tuning ourselves to the notes of grace or being salty, the Eucharist guides us.
Like
salt, in the Eucharist we see and receive the healing mercy of God through the sacrifice
of Jesus. We are brought into a relationship of peace with God and one another.
We receive what we need to thrive in hope, community, and love. We are
preserved and nourished in the grace given at Baptism in this sacred meal. And
the bold flavors of our faith all come out in the Eucharist – as the Eucharist
reminds us of what is ultimately good, and beautiful, and true; it trains us in
how to follow Jesus in the way of the Cross; it prepares us for the joys of
heaven.
Thinking
about a return to “normal” must include the central practice of the Church: the
Eucharist – as this is the source and the summit of our faith, the place where
the notes of grace are their clearest, the table at which we receive the bread
of life and become the salt of the earth.
