Sunday Homily, 8 February 2026 - Fr Paul Rowse, OP

Easter Fire in Diemarden (license)

Why would the Lord describe us salt and light?  We’re not asking what those images mean – we can come back to that – but why he applied them to us.  What has changed to make him say this about us?  Because we feel very much the same in ourselves: we’re the same people as we were yesterday; we’re the same people we expect to be tomorrow.  We have families, jobs, responsibilities to attend to.  It all seems the same.  Yet now we are also salt of the earth and the light of the world.  What has changed?

We can be reassured that the change, whatever it was, is a positive one: salt preserves and light shines.  And so, we who have been changed preserve the good in others and show them the way.  But these images are attached to impermanent attributes: salt, we’re told, can become tasteless; light can be hidden.  We can fail to preserve the good even if we’ve done so before; we can bring darkness where once we brought light.  So, whatever has changed needs to be carefully preserved and brightened.

What has changed is our view on human experience.  Just one paragraph before this one, the Lord gave us his Beatitudes.  These sayings contain God’s view on human experience.  And given to us, the Beatitudes change how we see a personal story unfold:

God calls the meek blessed, when the world would say they’re weak and unimaginative.

God calls mourners blessed, even when the world would say they’ve lost.

God calls peacemakers blessed, even though the world might think them meddlers.

What has changed is how we read each other.  We read each other with eyes filled with divine light.  Through Christ, we know that someone’s value isn’t dependent on their experience; our value, our worth, our dignity comes from our creator.  Our actions are aimed at preserving the good in those who are regarded as life’s losers.  Our good work is about bringing light to shine on places which others think are in shadow.

The images of salt and light have special meaning for how we are to live with others, whether they are Christian or not.  Salt joins with whatever it is added to.  So, Christians live alongside their non-Christian neighbours.  We don’t isolate ourselves in the hope of creating some earthly utopia, fearful that unless we do we shall be corrupted by outsiders.  That wouldn’t do for us, because we want to be with all those whom God has blessed, even if they do not yet know him.  Our saltiness comes not from the world but from its Redeemer and can be preserved by our prayer, good works, and right faith.

Similarly, light brings clarity, vision, even emphasis.  So, Christians live nearby their neighbours of whatever stripe.  We don’t hide the light away for fear it will go out.  Our light is not so weak as to be blown out by a wind of change.  Our luminescence comes from the Light of the World himself and can be brightened by close imitation of him.

What has changed in us is our way of thinking about each other.  We have the heavenly divine take on things.  And those who have this kind of knowledge have far greater insight.  Christ has given us a way to know what is always right, not just when it is beneficial or convenient.  He enables us to see what is always true about each other, not just true about an episode of experience.

Fr Paul Rowse, OP Parish Priest