Commentary to the FIFTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME – YEAR A

Introduction

‘Today, there is no more faith. Once there was so much.’ How do you measure faith? Referring to statistics, do you simply count the number of those who participate in Sunday Mass, receive the sacraments, marry in the Church, or send their children to catechism? The imposing crowds can perhaps assess it at ecclesial gatherings. How do we know when it increases or decreases? Is it through solemn celebrations with their attention to minute details and flawless execution that Christians appear to be the salt of the earth and light of the world?

A wonderful parable of Jesus (Mt 25:31-46) reveals how God’s evaluation methods are different from ours. Instead of paying attention to religious practice, loyalty to the tradition, the scrupulous observance of ritual, God is interested in concrete adhesion to his plan of love for people. Those who share their bread with the hungry and water with the thirsty, who dress the naked and house the homeless, assist the sick, and defend those who suffer injustice shine in the world as beautiful rays of God’s light.

The criteria are clear, yet many continue to reduce their relationship with God to a scrupulous fulfillment of religious practice. This could prove to be a tragic illusion. Only the righteous, those who believe in the Beatitudes proposed by Jesus, are “like the light of dawn: it grows in splendor until noon” (Prov 4:18).

To internalize the message, we repeat:“He is the light which breaks the bread with the hungry, welcomes the homeless in the house, dresses the naked, frees the oppressed.” 

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First Reading: Isaiah 58:7-10

The practice of fasting is universal. Since ancient times people fasted when confronted with situations of danger or struck by misfortune, when hail or locusts destroyed the crops and when the rains were late. This voluntary sacrifice was intended to move God, appease him, and get him to put an end to his punishment. During days of fast, they wore torn clothes, anointed their heads with dust and ashes, renounced sexual intercourse, took no bath, went barefoot, and slept on the floor. 

The reading today is placed in the context of one of these moments of fasting. We are in the fifth century B.C., the postexilic period. The people return from Babylon, but the promises made by the prophets are slow to be realized. Instead of the long-awaited peaceful community, a society dominated by careerists and profiteers is established. Violence, harassment, and discord are everywhere. To convince God to step in and remedy the situation, rigorous and severe national fasting is recommended.

Nothing changes; everything continues as before, and to many, suspicion pervades that the practice of fasting is ineffective. Do we wonder why we should fast if the Lord does not listen? It is as if we had not subjected ourselves to humiliation and sacrifice.

Today’s reading is a response to this question. The fault of the failure of change—says the prophet—is not of the Lord, but the wrong way of fasting, which is reduced to sterile self-punishment or painful penance. This fast does not get any result because it subjects the body to hardship but does not change the heart.

True fasting that sees prodigious results consists of sharing our bread with the hungry, sheltering the homeless, clothing the naked, not shifting our gaze away from those who share our flesh, although of different skin color and with different cultures and religions—live alongside us in inhumane conditions (v. 7). This new behavior produces miracles: in the short term, it heals the wounds of society, solves difficult situations, creates fraternal rapport, and gives birth to a community where justice and the glory of God shine (v. 8).

In the second part of the reading (vv. 9-10), another characteristic of true fasting is shown: the commitment to get rid of all forms of oppression, the pointing of a finger, and speaking arrogantly. It is not enough to give alms. It is necessary to end all attitudes of ambitious superiority that cause humiliation, injustice, and discrimination. After this new clarification, the prophet resumes the issue of sharing bread with an almost excessive insistence. He wants the people to assimilate the interest, concern, and solicitude of God towards those who are hungry.

The conclusion of the reading introduces the theme of light that will be taken up in the Gospel: if you practice this new justice, “your light will shine in the darkness, and your gloom will become like midday.” The Israelites believed themselves to be the light of the world because of their devotion to God and impeccable religious practice: solemn liturgies, hymns and prayers, sacrifices, and burnt offerings. This was not the worship pleasing to the Lord. This was not the work that would make Israel the light of the world. It would be the practice of justice towards and love of people.

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 2:1-5

As we pointed out last Sunday, the Christians of Corinth did not belong to the upper social classes. They were all of humble origin, who do not count in society (1 Cor 1:26). Paul interprets this as a sign of God’s preference for the despised and unmerited people. His choice, however, should not be understood as a reversal of class (that would be new discrimination) but as a logical consequence of the love of God. He does not love those who boast of merit but those who need his love.

In today’s passage, the apostle takes up and develops this theme by comparing human wisdom with the power of God. He uses the concrete example of his person. He begins with a reminder of his preaching (vv. 1-2). He did not present himself in Corinth to teach a new doctrine. If he had done so, he would need to possess the ‘sublimity of language and wisdom.’ In Greece, as Plato said, wisdom and skills were appreciated to ‘investigate the truth as true; the care of the soul sustained by right reason.’ Every speech devoid of rationale and the prestigious resources of philosophical thought was ridiculed and considered ignorant, gullible, and naive religiosity. 

In this cultural context, Paul announced a humanly absurd message: he asked for belief in a life project of an executed man. It was not just the content of his preaching that was outrageous. His very person—weak, fearful, unable to speak—was the least likely to succeed at such a large mission (vv. 3-5). In this regard, a joke circulated among the Corinthians that provoked a resentful reaction of the apostle. “His letters—it was said—are weighty and strong, but his bodily presence is weak, and his ability to make speeches is modest” (2 Cor 10:10).

Paul was conscious of his lack of oratory skill. He had had a demonstration in Athens when he tried unsuccessfully to convince his listeners by resorting to the sublime language of the philosophers (Acts 17:16-34). A year later, at Troas, he had a reconfirmation: during one of his sermons, a young man went to sleep and fell from the window (Acts 20:9).

Despite this lack of human support, the Gospel had been widely circulated in Corinth. Why? You may ask. It is because—says Paul—the Word of God is strong in itself, and its penetration into the heart does not depend on human means but by the “demonstration of the Spirit and his power.” The apostle does not refer to miracles that would have convinced the Corinthians to accept the Gospel. He refers to the fruit of the Spirit: the new form of life that, while amid human weakness and misery, had been adopted by many members of the community.

Gospel: Matthew 5:13-16

In today’s Gospel, Jesus uses a series of images to define the disciples and their mission. He presents them primarily as the salt of the earth (v. 13). The rabbis of Israel used to say: ‘The Torah—the holy Law given by God to his people—is like salt, and the world cannot live without salt.’ Taking up this image and applying it to the disciples, Jesus knows how to use an expression that may sound provocative. He does not deny the conviction of his people who believed the sacred Scriptures to be “salt of the earth,” but says that also his disciples are if they assimilate his word and let themselves be guided by the wisdom of his beatitudes. 

Salt has many functions, and Jesus probably intended to refer to all. The first and most immediate is that of giving flavor to food. Since ancient times, salt has become the symbol of ‘wisdom.’ Even today, it is said that a person is “worth their weight in salt” if they speak wisely, or that a conversation has ‘no salt’ when it is boring, devoid of content. Paul knows this symbolism. In fact, he recommends to the Colossians: “Let your conversation be always pleasant, seasoned with salt” (Col 4:6).

Understood as such, the image indicates that the disciples must bring to the world a wisdom capable of giving flavor and meaning to life. Without the knowledge of the Gospel, what sense would life, joy and sorrow, smiles or tears, celebration or mourning make? What dreams and hopes could nourish humans on this earth? It would be difficult to go beyond those suggested by Ecclesiastes: “It is better to eat, drink and enjoy the good things in the few days of life that God gives: this is the fate of man” (Eccl 5:17).

Those imbued with the mind of Christ savor other joys, introduce experiences of new and ineffable happiness into the world, and offer people the possibility of experiencing the same bliss of God. Salt is not only used to give flavor to food. It is also used to preserve food to prevent it from rotting. This fact recalls the moral corruption of associating ideas with negative forces and evil spirits. Against them, the ancient Orientals fortified themselves by using salt. In this naïve belief, even today, the ritual of spreading salt to immunize from the wicked and evil is connected.

The Christian is the salt of the earth: with our presence, we are called upon to prevent corruption, not to allow society to be guided by wicked principles or rot and decay. It is not difficult to see, for example, that, where no one reminds us of or presents us with the Gospel values, evil, hatred, violence, and oppression proliferate. In a world where the inviolability of human life from its beginning to its natural end is doubted, the Christian believer is the salt that reminds us of its sacredness. Where sexuality, cohabitation and adultery are trivialized, they are no longer called by their names. There the Christian is a reminder of the holiness of the relationship between man-woman and God's plan for marital love. Where one seeks one's advantage, the disciple is salt that preserves, constantly recalling the heroic proposal, the gift of self.

Salt was also used to confirm the inviolability of a pact: the participating parties would make a ritual of eating bread and salt together or sometimes simply sharing salt. This solemn agreement was called the ‘covenant of salt.’ The everlasting covenant stipulated by God with the dynasty of David (2 Chr 13:5) is called by this name.

Christians are also the salt of the earth in this sense. We witness the indefectibility of God’s love in which no sin will ever damage the covenant of loyalty that binds God to the people. They, with their lives, are proof that people can respond to this love by letting themselves be guided by the Spirit.

The ‘parable’ of the salt ends with a call to the disciples not to become ‘tasteless.’ The image assumes a rather surprising connotation: chemists assure us that salt is imperishable, and yet Jesus warns the disciples against the danger of losing their flavor. Although it may seem strange, Jesus considers them capable of the absurd or impossible, even ruining the salt. They can take the taste out of the Gospel.

There’s only one way to make this mess: mix salt with another chemical that would change it. The Gospel has its taste and has no substitute. It would no longer be the Gospel.

The parable of the salt is told immediately after the ‘Beatitudes.’ The Christian is the salt if we accept in full the proposals of the Master, without addition, change or any ‘however,’ ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’ to soften them, make them less demanding and less challenging.

For example, Jesus says that there is a need to share assets, turn the other cheek, and forgive seventy times seven. This is the characteristic taste of the salt of the Gospel. However, the temptation for us to add a bit of ‘common sense’ looms. We must not overdo it and must also think of ourselves. If we forgive too readily, we can be taken advantage of. We should not resort to violence unless it is a last resort. In this way, the Gospel is ‘sweetened’ and becomes easier to live out, but it loses its flavor. It is the mission's failure, like salt thrown on the street: it is trampled into the dust to which no one pays attention or attaches any value. 

The second function assigned to the disciples is that of a city set on a hill (v. 14). Even today, the streets of Upper Galilee are dotted with attractive villages located on the tops of mountains and along the densely wooded hills that demand attention. It is impossible not to notice them, especially in spring, when the crimson anemones covering the countryside are delightful. The archaeological excavations almost always prove that the summits on which they have arisen have been inhabited since ancient times.

Jesus grew up in one of these villages. He pointed to them as an image of mission for the disciples. With their life based on new principles, they will draw the attention of the world.

It is not an invitation to show off. That would contradict the exhortation not to practice good deeds before people, just to be seen, and not to sound a trumpet to call attention when giving alms (Mt 6:1-2).

The call of Jesus is contained in a famous passage from Isaiah where it is announced that the mountain of the house of the Lord “shall be set over the highest mountains and shall tower over the hills. All the nations shall stream to it. Many peoples will come because from Jerusalem the word of the Lord will come out” (Is 2:2-5).

From now on—Jesus ensures—that people will no longer look to Jerusalem but the community of his disciples. They will attract the admiring glances of the people if they dare to set their lives on his beatitudes.

Connected to the image of the mountain is that of light (vv. 14-16). The rabbis said, ‘As oil brings light to the world, so Israel is the light of the world’ and ‘Jerusalem is light for the nations of the earth.’ They were referring to the fact that Israel believed itself to be the depositary of the wisdom of the law that God, through the mouth of Moses, had revealed to his people.

One rabbi had the insight that the words of Holy Scripture and the works of mercy were light. He claimed that God gave the first order at the beginning of creation: “Let there be light!” referred not only to natural light but to the work of the righteous. Calling his disciples ‘light of the world,’ Jesus declares that the mission entrusted by God to Israel was destined to continue through them. It would have appeared in all its glory in their concrete, verifiable love. This is the work that Jesus recommends be put on ‘show.’ He does not want his disciples to limit themselves in proclaiming his word without engaging with or committing their lives to this word.

The proof that this light has caught people comes when they give glory to the Father who is in heaven. Their reaction, however, could also be the opposite and unexpected. They might find the good deeds of Christians annoying. We should not immediately assume that this is due to their malevolent disposition. Generally, it is not the good works that disturb them, but the perception of shades of exhibitionism, ambition, vanity, or self-satisfaction. Even with the noblest intentions, these smudges unconsciously deprive the good works of the most beautiful, sublime, and divine feature: the sweet smell of apathy and total freedom.

The disciples are called to do good without expecting praise or admiration, “their right hand should not know what the left is doing” (Mt 6:3). Praise should not be addressed to them but God.

The last image is delightful: we are introduced to the humble home of an upper Galilee peasant where an oil lamp made of clay is lighted. It is put on top of an iron stand to illuminate even the most hidden corners of the house. No one would think of hiding it under a bowl. 

The invitation is not to conceal, to spread a veil across the most challenging parts of the Gospel message. The disciples do not have to worry about defending or justifying the proposals of Jesus. They just announce it without fear of being ridiculed or persecuted. It will be for people a lamp “shining in a dark place until the break of day, when the morning star shines in your hearts” (2 P 1:19). 

READ: Your light must shine before others, so they may see the good you do and praise your Father in heaven.

REFLECT: Think about the images that Jesus uses: salt, light, a city set on a mountain. We are made and meant to shine! Believe in the light of God in us. By living just and upright lives, we manifest the brightness and beauty of God.

PRAY: Let us get in touch with the light of God in us. Savor the peace and tranquility of living in the light. Let it radiate in our lives and that of others.

ACT: Let us express the joy we experience living in the light of God. Share a smile and see how we all shine.