This past Sunday’s Gospel reading, Matthew 5: 13 – 16, talks simply about two things: salt and light. Being one who, along with his wife, watches salt levels constantly for health reasons, I decided to leave salt alone here as well.
Ah, but light: very important in our spiritual as well as our physical well-being!
In 2015, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, Divergie’s Disease, a skin condition that turns you bright red all over your body. Part of the treatment was with heavy doses of Vitamin A, which means my liver had to be monitored regularly via blood tests. As Renae and I studied the drug information, we learned that I needed to stay out of direct sunlight as well as indirect sunlight. Figuring out what constituted indirect sunlight was often a bit humorous!
Sidenote: Divergie’s Disease is very rare; consequently, there is very little research being done on it. By the end of my fourth month, though, I discovered that the Israelis were doing a bit of study on it and decided that what was being prescribed might not be as helpful as once thought. They suggested some time in direct sunlight every day! Still, while taking Vitamin A, I was taking a chance spending too much time outdoors, so of course, I proceeded carefully. AND began to improve.
I’d not paid much attention to how much light was in my life until then. Since that summer, though, whenever the subject of light pops up, I remember.
Jesus tells his followers not to seek light, but to BE light. Jump right over the whole “being a seeker” scene: just go be light for the world. Don’t hide it, don’t deny it, just be it. It’s as if he’s saying to them: “You’re already there; just go do the thing and don’t talk it to death!”
The light in Jesus’ time, when the sun was absent, came from lanterns kept lit by oil. We have similar (but more modern-looking) illumination in our sanctuaries: oil candles. They do not stay lit by magic, though. They have to be regularly refilled.
Same with you and me, fellow lights: we need to refill regularly. It’s why we worship. It’s why we pray (I’m reminded of C.S. Lewis: something like “I don’t pray to change God. I pray to change me!”). It’s why we meditate.
Go be light to the world. Don’t forget that you, unlike Jesus, will not shine brightly unless you refill. And by the way, Jesus certainly did refill, and regularly, when he went off to lonely places to be with God directly!
About jamiebrame
Greetings, fellow earthlings. I'm the retired Program Director at Christmount, the national retreat, camp, and conference center of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), in Black Mountain, NC. From September 2019 through October, 2020, I served Timberlake Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Lynchburg, VA, as interim minister. After taking more than a year off, First Christian Church (DoC), Wilson, NC, offered me the position of Interim Minister, beginning May 10, 2022.
Originally from Eden, NC, I graduated from John Motley Morehead High School, earned a BA in Religion and Philosophy at Atlantic Christian College (now Barton College), and eked out a Master of Divinity from the Divinity School at Duke University. I served, in various positions, churches (part time and full time) in North Carolina and Georgia, and have lived in Black Mountain, NC, since 1989. I married Renae in 1992 (she refers to these years as "looooooooooong" years.
I've spent the past 50 years or so trying to practice Christian contemplative prayer with some touches of Zen meditation to help the journey along. Married to a wife who is much holier than I am, I am fortunate to learn from her daily about how to do this thing called spirituality. Being an ordained minister doesn't make me holy (but occasionally, as you'll read, a little sanctimonious, so forgive me in advance!); but I hope that I put my education to good use.
I'd love to be considered a spiritual teacher, but I know myself too well to claim that. While I do a bit of teaching, I think the best teaching we do is when we remain silent (the old desert abba said something like, "if you won't learn from my silence, you won't learn from my talking"). But silence shouldn't turn into quietism, and we do have to speak out and act for justice and fairness and equality for all.
I frequently ask myself the question, "Does it matter?" about the major - and minor - issues of the day. What I think matters: love for God, equality, fairness, loving our neighbor, feeding hungry people, housing homeless ones, clothing naked ones, and especially caring for children; basically, caring for those who have some trouble caring for themselves. AND our relationship with God.
What doesn't matter: what you think of me. I'm not very Christ-like. You won't hear me talking about all the things I do for others, or all the things I do for God - I was taught that It's not about me, and using good works to get attention for myself isn't what Christian faith is about - look up "narcissism" on Google. I'm not sure Jesus thinks it matters much that I am like him or not, but I do. The old story from the rabbis is probably apropo: when I am hauled up before God at the end of time, God isn't going to ask me why I wasn't more like someone else: I will be asked why I wasn't more like me. The rabbis tell the story better.
I'm still a work in progress, as Renae will attest to.
Finally, I just hope that something you read here will make you think. Use what you can, ignore the rest. Go read some of the desert saints. Read the classics. Take care of people, never point to yourself, and don't follow me: I'm just hoping to be one more signpost to God.
And as one friend reminded me the week before I left Christmount, "It matters."
Oh, and my favorite color is probably blue, and I love cats, and I love my wife's music. I don't like beets.
Does It Matter 