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Deacon Dave Etters

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A powerful reflection on Jesus’ call to be salt and light, drawing on the Beatitudes, the witness of St. Francis of Assisi, and the challenge to live visibly transformed lives that lead others to Christ.

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You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world, said Jesus to his disciples. This passage follows immediately after the Beatitudes, the teaching of how to achieve pure and perfect happiness.

This past December, my wife Marcia and I had the privilege and the adventure of going on pilgrimage to Assisi and Rome. When we arrived in Assisi, it was a beautiful city on the mountain. It glowed with medieval charm, and it gave us a sense that the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi—the love and charity in his heart and his life—was still there.

As we trotted up and down the cobblestone roads, jumping out of the way of oncoming cars and motor scooters, it was clear that this was a wonderful place to be. Francis was a light to his generation, and he is a light that still shines today in the world. He gave himself to the Gospel of Jesus Christ without compromise.

When Francis initially went to Rome, he said, “My rule for my order, my friars, and myself will be the Gospel of the Lord.” The Pope responded that he would need a little more guidance and structure. Francis went back, did the work, and brought it forward. Yet there is amazing power in radical leadership and in giving ourselves fully to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

When we do this, we become living Beatitudes. Beatitude is a word that means happiness—true, deep, abiding happiness—a joy that this world cannot provide. The way is very clear. Blessed are they who are poor in spirit.

What does it mean to be poor in spirit? We are not meant to rely on ourselves alone. We are to admit that we are poor on our own and that we need God to fill our lives with purpose and life. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. As we hunger for God and right living, our lives are filled with His joy and happiness.

Francis was a powerhouse in his time, and he still speaks to us today. We have before us the opportunity—the calling—to be transformed by Christ. This radical transformation can feel overwhelming at times, but if we want to enter through the narrow gate, this is the way to true joy and true happiness.

Our Church must live and be the light of Christ to the world. Jesus said that people will see your works, they will see what you do, they will see your life, and they will come to believe.

Friedrich Nietzsche, a nineteenth-century German philosopher, once said, “God is dead.” He did not mean that God Himself was dead, but that God was dead in the people—that they did not have the life of God within them. He also said, “I might believe in their Redeemer if His followers looked more redeemed.”

We are challenged by this message. Jesus calls us to be the salt of the earth—seasoning and preserving the goodness of the world He has created—and the light that brings people out of darkness. As St. Paul said to the Philippians, we are to be blameless and innocent, shining like lights in the midst of the darkness of a crooked world.

That was the first century. What about our time? Are we shining like that light into the darkness of our age?

Some of you may be wondering what I’m holding. This is a funeral pall. It is draped over a casket when the deceased is brought forward for the funeral Mass. I have assisted many funeral directors and family members in placing this over a casket. One day, this pall will be draped over my own.

This is not meant to be morbid; it is simply reality. From this moment until that day, I really have one question to answer before God. It is not unlike what two coaches might say to their players before a championship game. They fire them up and tell them to give it everything they have.

And I believe God asks the same of us: leave it all on the field.