The Light That Cannot Be Hidden: Love in Action

Voice over by Carol San San Lwin

Isa 58:7-10, Psalm: 111, 1Cor 2:1-5, Mt 5:13-16

My dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,

We live in a world that is often shrouded in shadow—shadowed by injustice, by loneliness, by a deep spiritual hunger. In the face of this, it can be tempting to believe that our faith is a private matter, a personal comfort to be kept within the walls of our churches and our hearts. But today, the Word of God issues a thrilling and unmistakable command: our faith must be visible. It must be tasted. It must shine. Through the prophet, the apostle, and the Lord Himself, we are called to be nothing less than the tangible presence of God’s love in a world that desperately needs to encounter it.

The prophet Isaiah speaks to a people who are very religious—they fast, they pray—but whose worship has become disconnected from their daily lives. God, through Isaiah, defines the true worship that opens the heavens: “Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own.” This is not an optional social justice appendix to faith; it is the very heart of it. Then comes the glorious promise: “Then your light shall break forth like the dawn… Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer.” Our light—our credibility, our witness—is directly tied to our concrete love for our neighbor. The just man, as the Psalmist sings, is a light in the darkness.

This call to be a light is not something we achieve by our own eloquence or strength. Saint Paul underscores this with profound humility. He reminds the Corinthians, “I came to you in weakness and fear and much trembling.” His proclamation was not with “sublimity of words or of wisdom,” but with the simple, overwhelming testimony of “Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” Paul understood that the true power to change hearts comes not from human persuasion, but from the Holy Spirit working through our weakness. Our witness is credible when it is clear that the power is God’s, not our own. We are merely the lamp; He is the flame.

This brings us to the heart of the matter in the Gospel. Jesus, sitting on the mountainside, looks at His disciples—ordinary fishermen, tax collectors, seekers—and tells them who they are: “You are the salt of the earth… You are the light of the world.” This is their identity, not just their task. Salt has two purposes: to preserve and to enhance flavor. Christians are called to be a preserving force against the decay of sin and death in society, and to bring out the God-given “flavor,” the dignity and joy, in every human life. Light exists to be seen: “A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden.” Our good works—the very deeds of mercy Isaiah described—are not for our own glory, but so that others “may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.”

So, what does this mean for us? We are called to a faith that is incarnational—made flesh in action.

First, we must examine the connection between our worship and our works. Does our Sunday liturgy propel us into Monday with a greater commitment to justice and kindness? As St. John Chrysostom challenged, “Do you wish to honor the body of Christ? Do not ignore him when he is naked.”

Second, we must embrace our weakness as the platform for God’s power. We don’t need to have all the answers or vast resources to be salt and light. We simply need to offer our humble, trusting “yes.” In our family conflicts, our stressful workplaces, our encounters with the poor, we can be the preserving salt of patience and the illuminating light of charity. St. Thérèse of Lisieux shows us that even a “little way” of small, hidden acts of love can set the world ablaze.

Finally, we must let our light shine without fear. This isn’t about being ostentatious, but about refusing to hide our compassion, our integrity, our hope, and our joy because the world might think it strange. Pope Francis urges us to be a “Church that goes forth,” a field hospital that brings the light of mercy to the wounds of the world.

Today, the Lord renews our mission. You are salt. You are light. Not by your own merit, but by His grace working in you. So, go forth. Preserve what is good. Enhance the flavor of life for those around you. Shine with the love that has been given to you. For in doing so, you will not only fulfill the law of Christ, but you will become a beacon of hope, guiding a world in shadow toward the dazzling dawn of our heavenly Father. Amen.

May God bless you all!