HOW TO BE SALT?

SALT AND THE KIDS

Here's a reflection I posted almost exactly sixteen years ago. It was evidently a snowy time just like we've been enjoying recently. so I've left if pretty much unchanged.

The sisters have all the children sitting together at Sunday mass; this means that I can go and stand right in front of the kids and have a friendly sort of chat during the homily when I choose to. I had decided that I would preach to them that way at last Sunday’s mass (Feb. 6, 2011).

What do you say to little ones about being “the salt of the earth?” I had prepared the usual ideas about salt being important in the olden days not just for seasoning but also for preserving things before the days of refrigerators. I knew I’d tell them that salt is essential for our bodies if we are to stay healthy. Should I tell them that our word “salary” comes from the fact that the Roman soldiers used to get paid not in money but in salt (the Latin “sal”)? I sensed that this homily was not likely to be terribly engaging for the little ones.

As I made my may across the parking lot to the sacristy door for 8:30 mass, I started thinking that maybe I should just stay at the lectern and talk to the grownups instead. I had to watch my footing as I tip-toed over a place near the door where a melting snow bank had left a wide puddle that had then frozen into black ice.

My practical self grumbled at the slippery ice, “This is dangerous. We should put down some rock salt.”

My sermon-writing self perked up immediately: “Wait! What did you just say about salt?”

My creative self chimed in, “Yes! That’s IT! There’s your homily for the kids! 'You are the salt of the earth!' Think of the tons of rock salt we’ve been using up this winter! Why do we put down salt when there’s ice on the ground?"

By the time I reached the door to the sacristy (without falling, by the way) I had my homily outlined.

YOU ARE THE ROCK SALT

After I introduced them to the purpose of rock salt I asked the children the question, “How can you be the salt on someone’s path today?”

Maybe when someone is sad, you can cheer them up with a smile or a kind word, so that they won’t slip and fall down because of their sadness.

Or if someone is lonesome, you can be the salt on their path by being there for them.

When someone needs help, you can be the salt on their path that makes their life a little easier and keeps them from falling down and getting hurt.

It turned out to be one of those simple children's homilies that, while making sense to some of the children, really hit home with the adults in the congregation. I have this tacit understanding with the grownups in church: If I walk over and start preaching to the second-graders, you better be listening hard because I’m probably addressing myself to you more than to the children.

I hope that my homily spread a little rock salt around the icy streets of our neighborhood during the following week!
............................."YOU ARE THE SALT OF THE EARTH..."
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IS THERE A PLAN?

 

Every February 2 the Church celebrates the feast of the Presentation of the Lord, when Mary and  Joseph go to the temple in Jerusalem to offer the prescribed sacrifices required at the birth of a firstborn son. (Luke's account is the assigned gospel reading for the feast.) The incident is filled with symbolism and the fulfilment of prophecies. 

My meditation on the feast of the Presentation this year has been colored by recent tragic  events in the news in the U.S. and around the world. I invite you to reflect with me about whatver may e weighing you down today,

A central figure in the Presentation scene is an old man named Simeon who had been promised that he would live to see the Messiah. He took the infant in his arms and thanked God for fulfilling His promise. And he says to Mary,  

“Behold, this child is destined
for the fall and rise of many in Israel,
and to be a sign that will be contradicted
--and you yourself a sword will pierce--
so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”

This is a literary device that Luke is fond of, called a "programmatic prophecy," in which the speaker foretells how the story is going to unfold. I was thinking about the idea of "programmatic prophecy" this morning. It is based on a couple of fundamental assumptions: God has a plan for the world, this plan is ultimately about God's infinite love for the world, and thirdly, that loving plan is unfolding all the time, despite what it may look like to us humans.

The other central figure in the scene of the Presentation is Mary. She's really important to my reflections this year. Here's why: Two of our teachers dying within two weeks of one another doesn't sound like much of a plan to me. But sometimes we're faced, as Mary was, with deep, painful mysteries (--and you yourself a sword will pierce--) that are way beyond our intellect's ability to sort out logically. The gospel tells us that Mary kept pondering these things in her heart. Notice, not in her head, but her heart. We mustn't let the mystery of evil draw us up onto some high level of abstraction, because the Plan is invisible to the intellect, it won't yield to logical analysis. Mary humanizes the issue for us, and invites us to follow her lead by reflecting in our hearts with quiet confidence that the Lord is constantly loving and supporting us. There's an ancient litany of the Virgin Mary that includes the petition: "Mary, who kept the faith on Holy Saturday, Pray for us."

We all know people who have been so overwhelmed by the absurdity of some tragic event that they simply stop believing that there is a plan at all. For some mysterious reason,  they do not yet have the gift of Faith (or, more technically, the virtue of Hope, which allows us to hold on to our confidence in God despite the horrors and evils of this world).

This week I've been saying to the Lord, "I'm sorry, Lord, but this sure doesn't look like much of a plan to me. Or if it is a plan, it seems like a cruel one." And Jesus, who knows our human frailty firsthand, agrees: "Yes. I know just what you mean! I don't blame you for feeling that way. But I promise to help you to hang in there despite how terrible things seem. Try repeating the words I spoke to my Heavenly Father in the garden of Gethsemane, 'Not my plan but yours be done!'" 

I'm asking the Virgin to intercede for me and for my brothers and sisters around the world, that her son, our Lord, will indeed stand by each of us, young and old, as we work our way together through the mystery of the Hidden Plan.

(But, to be honest, I confess that it still doesn't look like much of a plan to me right now.)

ACCEPTANCE LETTER

This past Thursday evening, our prep school hosted a reception for all eighth-graders who had received acceptance letters from us for next year‘s freshman class. They were not registered yet, rather the reception was to help students and their parents who may not be sure of what they were getting into by signing up for our school. We make certain unusual demands on our students (a 53 mile hike in the mountains, jumping off a 7 foot platform into our pool fully clothed wearing a blindfold, a strong emphasis on students running the school, etc.)

The next morning, Friday, I celebrated mass for the Benedictine sisters in Elizabeth. The gospel was Mark’s version of the call of the twelve apostles. It struck me that Jesus's calling the apostles was an invitation to each of them, very like the acceptance letters that we had sent out to those eighth graders. Jesus’s “call” still required a response on the part of the apostles. 

It’s not enough for an eighth grader to run around waving his acceptance letter and feeling great about being accepted to Saint Benedict‘s Prep. The crucial step has yet to be taken: to act on the invitation he has received by calling the Admissions Office to register.

It must have been similar for those twelve apostles. They needed to respond to Jesus’s invitation to follow him and to go forth to preach the kingdom and to cast out demons.

Each of us has been called through our baptism. But that call requires a response on our part.

Like the apostles, we are sent to preach the kingdom by our lives, and even to cast out the presence and power of evil in our own lives and in the lives of people around us.

I picture myself standing with Jesus on that mountain side as he calls me by name. He calls me because he has a job for me to do. He is sending me into the world to be his ongoing presence, to shed light where there is darkness, and to bring joy where there is sadness. 

However, Jesus’s call is not really the point. What matters is my response. I pray that I will be able to act as he expects me to.

Over the next few days, our school’s Admissions Office will be processing all those registration forms received from kids who want to be students here next year. 

There will be others who received the same acceptance letter but have decided not to register, but to go to a different school instead.

This seems to be a good image for me to keep in mind. Our  Savior’s call requires me to respond by living and acting the way he expects. I can’t decide to go in some other direction instead!

And so I pray to those first apostles, who responded to His call.  May they help me respond to that same call that now sends me out into the world to preach the Kingdom and to be his presence for those around me.

KEEP CONVERTING!

 

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The Gospel passage at mass today (Jan.17, 2026) tells the story of St. Matthew's conversion. It reminded me of a post from a few years ago, which I offer below.

As Jesus passed by,

he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post.

He said to him, "Follow me."

And he got up and followed him. (Mt 9:9)

Matthew's response is an extreme example of someone following the invitation that Jesus extends to each one of us:

“If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother,

wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life,
he cannot be my disciple.
Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me
cannot be my disciple.....
anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions
cannot be my disciple.” (Lk 14:26, 27, 33)

The last verse interesting, especially the verb that's translated here as "renounce." In Greek, the word apotassomai means "to say farewell, to take leave of." In an earlier chapter of Luke, Jesus invites a man to follow him, and the fellow responds, "Let me go first and say good-bye to (apotassomai) my father." But in the above passage, the word is used in the extended sense of "to part with possessions."

This morning I asked myself, "What are the things that I need to say good-bye to in order to follow Jesus?" Each of us has his or her unique list, obviously, that may include worrying, trying to control other people, being preoccupied about material goods or money, and so on. The verb apotassomai  gave me pause: "unless you say good-bye to whatever you have..."  Okay, so let's say that I decide to give up my habit of trying to control everything, so that I can follow Christ. Let's say, further, that my resolution works and that I find myself walking across the wilderness with Jesus as a faithful follower. Then, I imagined the following scene this morning: As I'm following Jesus, I glance behind me and I see a little cloud of dust on the horizon, but I don't think anything of it. Ten minutes later, though, I look again and the cloud has gotten much bigger, and much closer. Clearly it's being caused by something travelling across the dusty wilderness -- something that's following us. I begin to wonder what it could be. The next time I look over my shoulder, I can make out what it is that's following us: it's my need to control all the people around me! The very thing that I left behind in order to walk with Jesus. The very thing that I "said goodbye to" not so long ago.

The problem is twofold: First, that although I had said good-bye to the habit, the habit hadn't said goodbye to me, and second, that I thought I was doing this all on my own, like spiritual a do-it-yourself project. Both of these are bad mistakes. Think of this image: You say goodbye to someone who you've come to realize is a bad influence on you; you leave them with a sigh of relief, not intending to see them ever again. But shortly thereafter, this person comes ringing your doorbell or starts texting you, clearly thinking that they're still part of your life. How frustrating! And you thought you were rid of this problem person! It seems that "saying goodbye" is not always enough to finish the job of separating from that other.

So, I've "said goodbye" to some practice or habit that could hold me back from following Jesus more closely. I think of Matthew having to constantly give up his former life as a tax-collector. My "conversion" project is not as dramatic as Matthews's was. But I bet that he was a lot like me in this: one goodbye wasn't enough: I need to keep repeating the same goodbye every day, I need to be converted not just once but constantly.


Clearly this can get frustrating and tiring -- which is why Jesus tells me to keep walking close to him: After all, this isn't my project as much as it is His.

I pray to St. Matthew for the gift of humility so that I can keep admitting that I depend on the Lord's help to keep converting every day of my life. I hope that I'll be able to accept his help and hear his words, "Do not be afraid. I am with you!"

A week ago I came across a passage in a book called "Come, Lord Jesus," by Mother Mary Francis, P. C. C. of the Poor Clares.

I keep reflecting on the three-page meditation on the Annunciation (p 201ff). The following is a mixture of my own thoughts and those of Mother Francis.

We are all familiar with the story of the Annunciation (Lk 1:26ff.), when the angel Gabriel appears to the young Virgin Mary and presents her with God’s plan. Her answer, which in Latin is only a single word, has become very well known. She says “Fiat,” meaning “Let it be done.“ This Response has become Christianity’s shorthand for submitting to God‘s will in one’s life.

But this Fiat,was only the first one of many that she uttered throughout her life. For her Fiat, is not something passive. Mary shows us not just how to say, Fiat, but how to live it, not only in the large, dramatic occasions of life, but in the little hidden ones. She had many a hidden Fiat to say in her life. 

Fiat is a very active word. Her “be it done” was said over and over and over. She was a very active doer in letting it be done. 

In the beginning, God said, “Fiat!” to light and it came into being. Through God‘s Fiat,, the world came into being. He spoke that word for each of us: “Fiat! Let him be.” And there I was. There you were.

In our own human fiats, we too have to be active doors in letting it be done. Fiat was not just a lovely word of God. It was a word that galvanized into action.

Fiat made the light to be, 

Fiat made the world to be, 

Fiat made the ocean to be, 

Fiat made Adam and Eve to be.

In the same way, our own Fiat must be the action of our whole life, expressed in our loving. 

Then Fiat really is done; it really is LIVED!

INFRARED CHRISTMAS

James Webb Space Telescope

On Christmas Day, 2021, NASA launched a telescope into space. The James Webb Space Telescope (JWST) went into orbit around the sun almost one mullion miles from earth This tremendously complicated and powerful instrument is actually made up of several super-sensitive instruments. 

The unique thing about this space telescope is that it is designed to detect infrared light. The human eye can only detect light from what is called the visible spectrum. Infrared light lies in a part of the spectrum that lies below that of visible light.

Among its advantages, infrared light can pierce right through those clouds of cosmic dust that obscure so much about objects in outer space. Infrared light also lets us observe the so-called "red shift" in light. Because the universe is expanding rapidly, light rays too lengthen over time, shifting to the infrared part of the light spectrum. Thus we can calculate the distance from earth of objects by measuring their red shift, i.e. the age of the beam of light when it hits the telescope. The JWST has been able to detect light from stars and galaxies that date from close to the time olf the "big bang." 

So, seeing with infrared light lets us see things we cannot otherwise see. What does this have to do with Christmas?

When we look at the babe lying in the manger in Bethlehem, we see just that: a helpless infant wrapped in swaddling clothes. But with the eyes of faith we can see, so to speak, in infrared. We see far deeper than the surface reality into the dimension of the supernatural. We can look at the babe in the manger and see the divine presence in the there in our midst.

The launch of the JWST infrared telescope on Christmas Day in 2021 was a well-timed gift to us, reminding us of the gifts from God that lie beyond our normal sight.

May the gift of the eyes of faith be yours throughout the coming year of 2026 and for the rest of your life!

 

NOT SEEING IS BELEVING

On December 27 the Church celebrates the feast of St. John, Apostle and Evangelist. The two readings at mass make for a good meditation on the gift of Faith. 

First, there are the opening verses of the First letter of John:

What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we looked upon and touched with our hands concerns the Word of life —for the life was made visible; we have seen it and testify to it and proclaim to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was made visible to us— what we have seen and heard we proclaim now to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; for our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son, Jesus Christ. We are writing this so that our joy may be complete. (1 Jn 1-4)

The words in bold print seem to indicate that John was handing on to us things which he had actually experienced. He had seen, heard, and even touched with his hands. That doesn't sound like the faith that you and I are called to. 

But then there’s the gospel passage. As you remember, on Easter morning Peter and John run to the tomb to see for themselves what Mary Magdalene had reported. John gets there first and peers into the empty tomb, but waits for Peter to catch up and enter first.

When Simon Peter arrived after him, he went into the tomb and saw the burial cloths there, and the cloth that had covered his head, not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place. Then the other disciple also went in, the one who had arrived at the tomb first, and he saw and believed.

In this passage John is no longer dealing with the Jesus who walked the roads of Galilee preaching and healing, the one whom John saw and heard and touched. Now John is encountering the resurrected Christ and sees only the empty tomb and yet believes! This the kind of faith that you and I experience.

John's feast comes only two days after Christmas. After weeks of listening to the Old Testament prophets foretelling the coming of the great King, the Messiah who will deliver us form sin and suffering, what do we get on Christmas morning? Just a newborn, helpless infant. Yet we keep returning with great joy and devotion to the manger. We take for granted  the wonderful gift of faith that allows us to see in that babe the long-awaited Savior.

On this feast each year I remember a certain woman I met in a pizza parlor some years ago. I was sitting at the counter. When thus woman comes and sits on the stool to my left, the waitress, who knows both of us, says to the new customer, "He's a priest."  Almost immediately this woman says to me, in a sad tone of voice, "How I envy you! I wish I could believe the way you do, but I just don't have your faith. I wish I did!" As I remember it, we had  a pleasant conversation for some time sitting there at the counter.

She gave me a great gift that evening, one which I hope I'll always remember: Gratitude to God for the gift of faith. During this season when we are thanking God for the gift of His Divine Son in the stable at Bethlehem, I always think of that lady who keeps reminding me of what a special, incredible gift I have in the gift of Faith.