Memorial of Saint Barnabas, Apostle

Lectionary: 580/360

You are the salt of the earth.
But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned?
It is no longer good for anything
but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.
You are the light of the world.

I suppose that every American who attended a liberal arts college also attended a “comparative religion” course. If not, they would have learned its principles in high school social studies. One of its subtexts, if not its explicit agenda, is "All religions are basically alike." This includes the principle that they all mean well and are harmless so long as they allow space and recognition for one another. Tolerance for every other doctrine is the only important doctrine of the comparative religious course. 

Closely examined, of course, it falls apart. Some religions have demanded human sacrifice, usually of enemies but sometimes of its own adherents. Vikings thanked their gods for their warrior prowess as they raided and pillaged villages of Europe and Great Britain. Many religions intend only to persuade, con and manipulate the deity into doing us a favor. They have no particular love of the god.  

Comparative religion courses, it seems, intend to take the salt out of the Christian student. They should understand their religion is no better than anyone’s, but if they want to worship the man Jesus Christ they are welcome to do so, quietly.

The comparative religion I took in college, many years ago, said little or nothing of Catholic liturgy. I don’t recall that it compared our most sacred prayers with the rites and rituals of other religions. Nor did they examine what we hope to attain by our Masses, sacraments and liturgies. It simply compared differing beliefs. I don’t know that anyone has written the book about comparative prayers yet; though I hope the courses, at least at Catholic universities, are making the adjustment.

Anyone who opens her heart to the spirit of the Catholic liturgy will become aware of our role as salt of the earth and light of the world. The ite missa est at the end of Mass literally means, “Go, you have been sent.” It is not just a word to say, “It’s over; go home.”

But before the end of Mass the Catholic will hear the formative word of God reshaping her values and attitudes; and then she will eat and drink the body and blood of Christ. These are not rituals attended once and forgotten. They must at least waken within us a willingness to stop, look within, and see the work God is doing in our hearts. 

We are not just good citizens of a law abiding country. We are not just marketers trying to sell our values to anyone with the money to buy them.
Rather, we are the Presence of Jesus Christ to a world that needs his prophetic, saving work. The Holy Spirit that moves within us, which is the very breath of Jesus, impels us to pay attention to the suffering of those around us, to speak a word that will comfort them, to lighten the burden of the oppressed, and to confront the oppressors. Spirit shines within our joy like a city on a hill, which cannot be hidden. It will season a despairing world with the salty taste of hope.