1 Cor 2: 1-5, Matt 5: 13-15

This week I learned that I am Type One on the Enneagram, which is the Perfectionist also called the Idealist or the Reformer. Very attractive titles, I liked that, but when I started reading more about the type, I discovered that it is not all great things but there are certain unhealthy patterns of thinking that we Perfectionists get sucked in. I resisted at first, and then I remembered that my counselor has told me the exact same thing: my vice is that I tend to be very self-critical, and therein lies my motivation to be productive.

I continued to ponder this aspect of my personality for the following couple of days and as I prepared my sermon. And as I read Paul’s words in his letter to the Corinthians I wondered if he too was a Type One idealist, who felt unworthy inside and used self-criticism as a way of equalizing. Hear his words:

Brothers and sisters, when I came to you, I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.

While it may not be healthy to criticize oneself all the time, I think it is healthy to remember one’s starting point, especially for those of us who think they have come a long way and achieved a lot. Paul had been preaching for fifteen years before he reached Corinth, and he had already founded multiple churches. Yet, he looks back at his starting point with them and says: I did not come to you with my own power and my own wisdom, but with a simple message, and it’s the power of the Spirit that made you believe.

So there is Paul the greatest of disciples, downplaying his own achievements, and then there is Jesus, addressing a bunch of amateur disciples who do not yet know what they’ve signed up for, and he tells them: You are the salt of the earth, and you are the light of the world. Now this was right after he had called his disciples; they hadn’t yet started their ministry or proven to be worthy, so it is not a description of their reality Jesus was making, but more of a charge and a commission:

You are the salt of the earth, not as a privilege or an honor to brag about, but as agents with a role to flavor others. If you lose your saltiness, you lose your charge and you lose your role. You are the light that is to be put up-high not so much to show off its own brightness, but in order to light up the way for others.

Circle back to Paul, this is exactly what he understood his role to be: invisible salt and light in God’s hands. I personally find Paul among the most sophisticated writers of all times; very philosophical mind, highly educated; his letters remain until this day timeless sermons. If his words were not wisdom, I don’t know what is! Yet Paul says: my preaching was not grounded on words of wisdom and therefore your faith is based not on my words but on God’ Spirit.

Earlier this week, I found myself, again, explaining to someone I met for the first time who Jesus is for me, and how someone like me, who looks normal -at the first sight a least- can be a minister. It’s a hard task with my self-critical Type One, but it often helps me remember the meaning and source of my calling. It also helps me size myself, and redefine my role, just in case I proudly forgot, that I am but a vessel, and without the Spirit I am salt that lost its saltiness, and a light that is hidden under the bushel.

Ironically the person I was talking to labeled himself as “spiritual.” It is so trendy these days to say: “I am spiritual but not religious.” I do not get it. One of my favorite modern Christian writers is a UCC pastor by the name of Lilian Daniel, whom Chelsea introduced me to (and by that I mean made me read her books). She wrote a book titled: “When ‘Spiritual But Not Religious’ Is Not Enough” in which she expresses how sick she is of individuals who claim to be “spiritual” but who want nothing to do with the church. I agree with her that it is nonsense. The word spiritual is derived from the word spirit; so to be spiritual is to live out your life fueled and empowered by the Spirit, or God. So how can one be spiritual and not believe in God? And how can one believe in God and have a spiritual life without manifesting that and expressing it within a community of spirituals. To be spiritual is to recognize the role that this self-designation ascribes to us: salt of the earth and light to the world.

It is no secret that the church as an institution may not survive the turn of the century; the numbers of those who attend Sunday services are dwindling; generations of quick and easy want something different, but one thing will always remain true for all humans: everyone is looking for meaningful experiences; people still long for connection and to encounter the mystical. And they will be looking at us, churchy people, skeptically asking us what we have to offer.

Friends, we are Spirit people. We are charged to be vessels through which the Spirit travels to reach others. And to be salt and light, always remembering how small that could be, but how large an impact it makes. And here I want to emphasize the larger scale that Jesus envisioned when he sent his disciples out; his commission extends to the whole earth, and to the entire world. I think this can be especially challenging for us –I will say it: in this country- where we get too focused on our own problems, and forget that there is a whole other level of misery outside our confines and which we too are entrusted to care for.

This world is in a great need of a demonstration of the difference the Spirit can make in people’s lives. And we are the agents chosen to demonstrate that. Each and every one of us, Jesus looks in the eyes and says: “You –yes you- are the salt of the earth.”

Friends, when the role is as big as being salt and light that are supposed to flavor and enlighten the whole earth, we cannot but come with weakness, fear and trembling at best. But when we feel dim and ineffectual, when our inner-critic wears us down and we’re ever aware of our shortcomings, and when the gloom of the world around us is overpowering, then we are reminded that it is not about our power nor our wisdom, but we are vessels for God’s Spirit, in Whose hands only, we can truly be salt     and a light that shines for all to see Her ways.

May we follow the Spirit’s lead wherever She blows. Amen.