Salt and Fire

 The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                    Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill

Long ago, in fact over 30 years ago, I attended Trinity Episcopal Church in Newtown, Connecticut. As a lay person, I was involved in many and various ministries. First, I started out as the coffee chairperson; inviting people to serve coffee seemed like an easy and non-threatening way to start. And then I was asked by a vestry member to join the pastoral care team, which made me a little nervous. I had two small children, a husband who traveled and was often away from home, and not much time to cook meals for others. Besides, what’s wrong with take-out, I silently thought to myself? Next thing I know I’m serving on the vestry as the outreach chair and deeply involved with creating a transitional living facility for homeless women and their children.

I have a lot of friends from Newtown and even more from Sandy Hook school, which our children attended long before the tragedy. My years in Newtown were formative ones, not only as a wife and parent but also as a family member and friend, a budding Christian, and a member of our small town community. Our church was actively engaged beyond its walls and known as the rich church on the hill. We helped launch Youth Services in Newtown, The Family Life Center, and then Amos House, a collaborative and ecumenical effort by 5 area churches.

Once a year, a group of us from Trinity Church, now living in various parts of our nation, will gather in the Adirondack mountains to reconnect in person. I’m the only one who went rogue and became a priest. During our community time together, we eat, drink, and make merry at one of our friend’s homes. We play games, take hikes, argue about politics, and talk about “the church.” Our faith and spiritual lives are deeply important to all of us; and yet we’ve each struggled over the years in different ways.  

Part of our ritual when we gather together is to have a chapel service in which we read scripture, reflect on a gospel passage, and then share communion. Fortuitously for me, this year we agreed to reflect upon today’s passage from St. Mark. Specifically, we wondered about the words of Jesus, who said, “For everyone will be salted with fire.” So, I raised the question for us to ponder: Am I salt or am I fire?

Now there are many ways in which we can use salt. Most commonly, it seasons our food. Salt is a preservative, used to cure meats, or when gargled with warm water, it can heal our gums and soothe our throats. In ancient times, salt was used to ward off evil spirits.Throwing a pinch of salt over their shoulders, some people would cast out demons in the name of Jesus.

As I’ve grown older, I am conscious of the sodium levels in my food and the negative aspects of salt. While Jesus said to the crowd, “Salt is good” I say, “Not so fast. Not always.” High blood pressure can be deadly. The Dead Sea is filled to the brim with salt, and while it may buoy us up, if the water is swallowed it can also be harmful. The Dead Sea receives water but it doesn’t give it. It’s all get and no give; it’s all inlet and no outlet. 

Back to that question, am I salt or am I fire?

Fire, like salt, can be used in many and various ways as well. We can heat and cook with it, but we can also burn ourselves. Maybe we light candles to create certain moods, or place them on our altars to remind us of the light of Christ; and yet a careless match, a bolt of lightning, and winds over a campfire can create raging forest fires, wiping out vast amounts of landscapes and destroying people’s homes and their lives. In fact, both salt and fire, like anything material or even spiritual, can be used for both good and evil, for creative and destructive purposes. It begs not only the question “Am I salt or am I fire?” but also “For what purpose am I being used?”

A few weeks ago, I was listening to various run-ups on the news prior to the anniversary of 9-11. Most of us can remember where we were and what we were doing on that date. In one news program I heard two sisters recall memories of their brothers. One was an airplane pilot in his 50’s who died when the hijacked plane crashed into the pentagon. The other was a newly married man in his early 30’s who had just started a new job in the twin towers.

I remember just beginning our morning prayer service at St. Paul’s Church in Greenwich, Connecticut when the sexton came running in to tell us about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. We quickly gathered around a television set in time to see the second plane hit the other tower. Stunned into silence we knew that these were not misguided events. Rather they were purposeful attacks, intended to cause death and destruction. Some say they targeted the very hearts of our political and economic lives. Indeed they broke thousands of hearts across our nation in those fiery attacks.

Many weeks after that day, I served as a chaplain at Ground Zero on a Saturday afternoon. Bodies were still being recovered; the smoke and smells from the fires were intense, and the depth of our despair and horror was deep. First responders and recovery workers, considered salt of the earth, stopped every time someone was found beneath the rubble. The bodies were then transported to a tent where chaplains like me blessed them, and others worked to identify them. Needing a respite we would retreat to St. Paul’s chapel at Ground Zero, miraculously spared from the destruction all around it. There we could pray, talk to others, and read the letters of supporters from around our world.

During the anniversary of remembering the tragedy of 9-11, President Bush’s words were repeated and his actions were recalled. “If you’re not for us,” he said to people in other countries, “then you're against us.” And today we hear those very same words from Jesus, when his disciples complained about people who were casting out demons but not using his name to do so. Who cares if you’re healing, helping, and doing something good? Jesus responded. If you provide just a single cup of water to someone who is scared or thirsty, is crying uncontrollably because of a loss or a trauma, or stopping momentarily to help another person, who cares what name you use, and in whose name you serve? Praise any human being who helps another child of God.

Now remember that Jesus said that everyone is salted with fire; and so our call, as faithful Christians, is to discern how we can use our words and our actions for good. If the fire in your belly has gone out, how can you rekindle it? If your salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Asking these questions another way, how can I be an agent of positive change and transformative love, sprinkling salt and starting good little fires everywhere I go?

As salt of the earth, can I season, soothe, cure, heal, and buoy other people up? Through my prayers, can I ward off evil spirits and cast out demons in the name of Jesus? Fired up by the Holy Spirit, does my presence warm the room, create a good mood, light the pathway forward, and remind others of Christ? Do I rekindle the fires of others by my words and actions?

To be honest, I lost both my salt and my fire at various times during the pandemic. Without ever contracting the coronavirus, thank God, I lost my taste for many things, except salty food like potato chips, pickles, and french fries. The fire of my spiritual life flickered and grew dim. I struggled to find ways to keep my connection with God alive; and my prayer life was flat. For a while, my purpose in life became very narrow, and not connected with a greater good and a higher Power. I missed being part of a community. I longed to rekindle my passion for ministry. I yearned to reclaim God’s mission of reconciling love, and serving others in the name of Christ.

Having enjoyed being a free agent in Christ in many parishes throughout our diocese before the pandemic, I realized that I needed an anchor, a community in which to belong more deeply, and a place where I could renew my saltiness and rekindle my fire. Thank you to Mike, your wardens, and your vestry for the invitation to join you this year. On this third Sunday in your midst, I am excited to be part of your lives.

Prayers and people renew my saltiness. Being on God’ s mission of reconciliation and love rekindles the fire in my belly. Belonging to a church community sustains me in the ups and downs of my earthly and spiritual life, and helps me to behave better. When I walk and talk with Jesus, I can find ways to use my saltiness and my fire for good. I can speak more graciously and act more faithfully, maybe even more courageously.

When I ask those questions: “Am I salt or am I fire?” I can now say, “Both.” “Everyone will be salted with fire!” said Jesus. “And for what purpose?” Today, for me, it's to restore the faith, hope, and love that remains nascent in us all. And to practice the Way of Love in all my affairs. Praise Jesus for that. 

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22

Psalm 124

James 5:13-20

Mark 9:38-50