You are the Salt of the Earth: Matthew 4:23–25

The disciples were having a conversation around an evening fire about one little bit in the sermon Jesus had just preached a few months ago.

Jesus had been speaking on the side of the mountain to a crowd who were gathering to see and to hear what this miracle worker had to say. They had heard he was pretty good at speaking and they weren’t that disappointed. I mean he spoke well, with confidence and authority, seemed to have gravitas and was certainly knowledgeable. A+ for charisma and warmth. 

Here’s how the Gospel of Matthew records this just before the beatitudes.

Matthew 4:23-25 (NRSV) Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them. And great crowds followed him from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan. 

The disciples remembered how it started with eight statements of blessing and they liked the idea of being blessed. They liked some of the rewards that the blessings would bring—kinda exciting really.

But actually when they stopped to think about it there weren’t any tangible benefits being promised: “inheriting the earth” or having the “kingdom of Heaven” seemed really good on paper, but didn’t actually materialise to very much. Their actual wealth wouldn’t change at all. 

One of them observed, “Well of course the sad will be comforted—that’s just what we do.” Another said, “Also we show mercy to those who are merciful to us, so that’s obvious.”

 Yet another, “Hungering and thirsting for righteousness, well, what was the ‘fill’ they were to receive—this concept was vapid as well.”

Mulling more, “Having a pure heart would enable them to see God which as far as they had been taught would mean certain death.”

They were a bit confused and didn’t have the tools at that time to really unpack it. 

At least the sayings were pithy and memorable but the concepts they talked about were too airy fairy. They were forced to wrestle with these quite ill-defined statements. 

They remembered how just after those pronouncements, Jesus turns to them, twelve men he’d chosen and those who were committed to following him all known as his disciples. He drops his voice a bit to make certain that they realise it’s them he is talking to, not the masses. 

“You follow me, you will find persecution and dishonour among the privileged. They will make stuff up about you and you will be executed by these lies. But cheer up, your reward is closeness to the divine heart of God. And you will be joining the company of the great prophets who went through the same.”

He continued:

“You are the salt of the earth.” 

The retelling of this stalled for a moment. “Does anyone know what that even means?” And the next hour was a debate with many many contributions.

One said, “well it’s obviously about the flavour of salt, because Jesus talked about it losing its taste. So we are the flavour of the land—?” His thinking made sense until he said it out loud. How would this work? Was that they were to be a presence? The rest of the story hadn’t unfolded yet. They’d seen signs and wonders, great speaking etc, maybe they were going to do that stuff too? So flavouring would be permeating the culture with this good stuff? “Changing the essence of flavour” remarked one. “Everything’s already got flavour but salt just makes it taste better.”

Which is all well and good, but Jesus didn’t talk about salt of culture he’d said salt of the earth.

Another disciple said “Salt of the earth could be to do with how we put a small amount of salt in the earth as fertiliser to help crop growth.

We are the stimulants to enable the earth to produce good yields. We’re like a steroid.”

And this was pretty compelling. After all, they often covered the dung carts with salt to keep it from deteriorating until it reached the field. It had been noted that this actually improved the quality of the dung too. A Double whammy benefit. Very nice.

Another of the disciples wanted to take it too far “ so basically we help preserve crap and make it more potent?—in other words, we help waste be redeemed for new life?”

Kinda nice imagery. In keeping with how the rest of the story was going to unfold.

Another who was well schooled remembered:

Sirach 39:26 (NRSV) “The basic necessities of human life
are water and fire and iron and salt
and wheat flour and milk and honey,
the blood of the grape and oil and clothing.”

“We are a basic necessity for life now…though why salt? Fire or iron would have been so much more dramatic.”

“Yes!” Agreed another. “But Salt can be dramatic as salt stops yeast from activating and because yeast represents rebellion we are the ones who stop rebellion in the world.”

The previous thought stimulated something in another member’s head. He grew up in a family involved in facilitating the temple worship practice.

“No that can’t be it. You know how they use salt in the temple right? They mix it according to the law of Moses:

In the Lord’s instructions to Moses, salt was to be used in the preparation of incense that was put before “the covenant in the tent of meeting,” where it must be regarded as “pure and holy” to the Lord (Exod. 30:34-38)

“You shall not omit from your grain offering the salt of your covenant with your God” (Lev. 2:11-14).

 Perhaps we help with the sacredness of people’s offerings?”

“That’s obscure” said one but he was interrupted, “well that may be but see how he used the word covenant there? Do you remember how the scripture talks of 

The Lord God of Israel gave the kingship over Israel forever to David and his sons by a covenant of salt” (2 Chron. 13:5).

These covenants of salt were seen as long term because of the preserving nature of salt. That’s also why they pour the salt on the sacrifices in the temple. So we are the preservers of the covenants made with God, the law and the traditions. This is what is required by us being salt of the earth.”

None of these answers was satisfactory though. They knew it too. Not one of them grabbed the disciples and gave them the profound insight into what or who they were supposed to be—not at that moment anyway. 

Thirty years later, only a few of the disciples were left alive and they’d gathered again around the evening fire. This time they knew something else about those statements that day.

They’d been reminded of the violence of humankind towards each other. They’d seen too much blood spilled in the name of Jesus now. Their thoughts went back to the origin stories of the world. Of how two brothers were making a sacrifice of gratitude to God. Abels was received well. Cains was not. Cain got angry and so God had a chat with him about it. This angered Cain even more. So he killed Abel. 

It’s recorded in Genesis 4 as the first murder. It’s the first act of terror and it’s the template for human existence. This archetype of acting out with violence brought with it an enormous burden and curse—one which the Gospel writers are at pains to remind us of. The problem is not with individuals—it’s endemic in humankind, our systems and our politics. The first part of problem solving is defining the actual problem. The first part of the process to solving this problem was to expose it. In exposing it, violence will inevitably ensue, but it is hardly peace when it’s just kept hidden and suppressed. 

God asks Cain where his brother is. Cain fobs God off and so God turns to Cain with words that echo through time:

“What have you done! 

Listen? Can you not hear it too?

Your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the earth. 

And the ground is cursing you for making it drink your brother’s blood. It will no longer let you work it. Instead you’ll wander aimlessly as a fugitive on it, never to escape it until you die and are forced back to it.

Cain, from dust you came and to dust you will return. Back into the earth you will be consumed but forever you’ll be remembered for initiating this hell into the world.”

This is the curse they’d seen meted out on some of the other disciples who’d been persecuted and martyred. The exposing of corrupt and empty hearts brought violence with it. It is truly the way of humankind.

Jesus blessed the persecuted prophets as salt of the earth because, in the words of Paul Minear who informed much of this talk:

Just as God would seal a new covenant in the Messiah’s blood and that blood would be an atonement for sin (26:28), so too the Messiah blessed disciples who would fill up the measure of all the blood shed on the earth and thus become the salt of the earth. 

By loving their enemies and praying for them, they would not only become children of God but become perfect as their “heavenly Father”.

—Paul Minear
Interpretation : A Journal of Bible and Theology; Richmond Vol. 51, Iss. 1, (Jan 1997): 31-41.

For a moment consider the loving their enemies in a genuinely violent space. Salt is not random acts of kindness. Salt is seeking the humanity of the one who hates you. 

Now, this wee saying, you are the salt of the earth in the context of the 9th and isolated beatitude, perhaps it’s way bigger than a simple analogy, but a way of understanding the beauty and the cost of discipleship. It’s the sharp flavour where a few grains of it can change the taste of a whole meal. 

As the fire flickered while they remembered these words, sombreness from the magnitude of these little statements drove home. Salt of the earth didn’t just mean grounded, a bit of flavouring or preserving—it was steeped in the original crime from which we’re all affected by. And it fell on them, as disciples of Jesus the Christ, to bear witness to this and yes to suffer the consequence of daring to seek redemption even where it’s desperately not wanted.