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We heard in the opening line of last week’s gospel passage: When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain. He spoke to us from the mountain in what we traditionally call the Sermon on the Mount. This sermon begins with the Beatitudes where Jesus told us, no less than eight times, “Blessed are you.” We said that the first four beatitudes tell us that we have transcendence power. In other words, there is a power within us that allows us to transcend, to go beyond, any negative state that can afflict us, even mourning death. We said that, apart from transcendence power, we are also endowed with manifestation power. In other words, the blessedness that is within us wants to manifest itself in the world in such things as the giving of mercy or being a peacemaker.

Today we are told that we are not only the blessedness that is within us, a blessedness that can never be eradicated, but we are also salt of the earth, and we are the light of the world. So, we are blessedness, we are salt, and we are light. All of this is to tell you the truth of who you are. Remember, Jesus ascends the mountain to unite with the mind of God. You only truly know, in the spiritual life, through union. Jesus tells us, “The Father and I are one.” That’s how Jesus knows. He tells us the wonderful truth about ourselves even and especially when we protest with, “That’s too high an estimation of me.” When we inwardly say that, Jesus comes back with, “Then you don’t know who you are.” Remember, Jesus wants us to identify with our peak and not with our lowest part. Jesus wants us to identify with who we most truly are and not merely with who we think we are.

Here are a few examples that may help us with that. This first example is a joke that’s been going around for a long time. It’s one of those esoteric Christian jokes that works on two level. To the insiders, it works one way; to the outsiders, it works another way.   

Jesus and Moses are playing golf. They come to the eighth hole. It’s a 220-yard par 3 with a 200-carry-over water trap. Jesus has the honors; he’s the first on the tee. He’s lining up his ball, he gets ready to hit and Moses says, “What are you using?” Jesus says, “I’m using a 7-iron.” Moses says, “You can’t hit it that far with a 7-iron; you need more club.” Jesus says, “Jack Nicklaus hits a 7-iron.” Jesus swings, hits the ball about 165 yards in the air and it plunks right down in the water. Moses says, “I’ll get it.” Moses walks down, parts the water, walks through on dry land, picks up the ball, turns around, walks back, the water is filing neatly in behind him, and he hands the ball back to Jesus. Jesus puts the ball back on the tee and addresses it again. Moses says for the second time, “What are you using?” Jesus responds for the second time, “A 7-iron.” Moses says, “You can’t hit it that far; you need more club.” Jesus says, “Jack Nicklaus does.” Jesus swings, knocks the ball about 175 yards, plunks right down in the water. He looks at Moses and says, “Don’t bother, I’ll get it.” Jesus walks down, walk on top of the water out to his ball. Just then, a foursome behind Jesus and Moses comes up, and they see Jesus walking on top of the water out there, to get his ball. One of the guys in the foursome says to Moses, “Who does that guy think he is, Jesus Christ?” And Moses says, “He is Jesus Christ, he thinks he’s Jack Nicklaus.”

It’s an insider/outsider joke because on one level when we see someone parading their powers a little too flamboyantly or overstretching themselves in ways we think is inappropriate, we sort of sarcastically say, “Who does he think he is, Jesus Christ?” That’s the outsider level of the joke.

But there’s an insider level of the joke. The insider level of the joke, in esoteric Christianity, is that we really are Jesus Christ, but we keep thinking we’re Jack Nicklaus. In other words, the fundamental spiritual problem is a case of mistaken identity. We really don’t know who we are. We tend to identify with lesser dimensions of ourselves—with roles, with thoughts, with feelings–instead of identifying with what’s deepest, most powerful, and most permanent. Until we know who we are, the rest of the Christian life just falters; it doesn’t go anywhere.

There was a 13^th-century mystic named Meister Eckhart who tried to describe the human person by using the image of a wine cellar. He said we have a wine cellar we never drink from. We keep drinking all this bad wine, even though there is a deeper wine cellar within each of us, but we never visit it. We never bring up any of the vintage wine. Or to say it another way: the human person is a house of many rooms, but we tend to live in only one of them.

There is a story of a retired teacher who said, “I was a teacher for 20 years. It was a custom at Christmas time that the kids would bring me gifts. After a while,” he said, “the gifts were so predictable that I never even opened the boxes. That if a gift came in a long, flat box, I knew it was a handkerchief. So, I would just throw the box in the closet. ‘Thank-you’ notes were not expected. And whenever I needed a handkerchief, I would go to the closet and open the box and take the handkerchief out. So, I had these stacks of boxes in my closet. And one time, when I needed a handkerchief, I went in there and opened the box. But instead of a handkerchief, someone put in a handkerchief box an antique pocket watch. All this time, I had an antique pocket watch and didn’t know it.”

You didn’t know you were blessedness. You didn’t know you were the salt of the earth. You didn’t know you were the light of the world. You just thought Jesus was the Light of the World and that was the end of the discussion.

The Sermon on the Mount, and the Beatitudes in particular, is Jesus’ inaugural speech. His inaugural speech, like the inaugural speech of a new president or prime minister, sets the tone for everything that will follow. Get the beginning right and everything else will fall in place. You are blessedness, salt, and light…get that right. But here comes the danger. What happens if the salt loses its flavor and is good for nothing and has to be trampled under foot? Fear not. On the chemical level, salt can never lose its saltiness. You want to get rid of salt? Throw it into a bucket of water; that should do it, right? No. You’ve just created salt water. You’ve not gotten rid of the salt. In fact, here in Canada, on the iciest days, I want salt under my feet. It’s forever useful even when we think it’s useless, only to be trampled underfoot.

Here’s the other unfounded fear: what if the light stops shining? What then? Fear not. There is a way in which the light can never stop shining. Just because the light is hidden under a bushel basket doesn’t mean, for a moment, that the light isn’t still shining. It is shining. But it was never meant to shine under a bushel basket; it was meant to put on a lampstand to give light to all in the house.

There is a way in which the blessedness, the salt, and the light—that are not only in you but are you—can never be eradicated any more than the clouds eradicate the sun. This is what Jesus wants you to know. It’s his first words, his inaugural speech. It’s also his last words from the Cross: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know.” When you know you are a good tree, you will automatically bear good fruit.

Fr. Phil Mulligan