Every Christian knows Jesus’ words that his followers were to be the “salt of the earth” and the “light of the world” (Matthew 5:13-16).  Being the light of the world seems easy to understand – it clearly involves the responsibility to “illuminate” the world through the witness of our lives and, of course, to reflect the light of the God who himself can be described as “Light.”

​But what about the salt – what exactly does that represent?  Salt was used for many different purposes in the Middle East during the 1st century, so there are a number of possibilities regarding what Jesus intended. We should consider all of the most likely meanings.

1. Perhaps the most obvious possibility is that Jesus’ reference to our being “salt” has to do with the use of salt as a flavor enhancer (Job 6:6) –  that we are to make the world more pleasing or “palatable” to God (Romans 8:8).

2. Salt was also widely used to preserve food, especially meat which would spoil quickly in the heat of the Palestinian desert environment.   The sense of long-lasting preservation is seen in the biblical expression “a covenant of salt” (2 Chronicles 13:5).

3. Salt was utilized to purify things such as offerings made in the tabernacle or temple (Leviticus 2:13).  This is the meaning behind Jesus’ words “For everyone will be salted with fire …” (Mark 9:49) and Paul’s words “Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt” (Colossians 4:6).

4. On the other hand, the ability of large quantities of salt to kill vegetation and render land unusable led to salt being used metaphorically for the concept of emptiness and destruction (Job 39:6, Ezekiel 16:4, etc.).

5. Despite the fact that large quantities of salt kill all plants, much smaller quantities were used as the world’s oldest chemical fertilizer.  In fact, after vegetation has been killed by a heavy application of salt, the plants often eventually come back more profusely.  Because the word “earth” in Jesus’ expression “you are the salt of the earth” can mean “soil,” some commentators feel that he may have meant his followers were to bring new life to the world, like a little salt to soil; but the likelihood of this meaning is certainly unsure in this context.

6. Ancient peoples also often put salt on the wicks of oil lamps to cut smoke and increase their brightness.  This meaning seems attractive as the use of salt in this sense would then be parallel with light, in believers being both “salt and light.”  But in Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:13-16, salt is discussed before light is mentioned, indicating he probably had a more common use of salt in mind.

Many other meanings have been claimed for Jesus’ words based on other uses or characteristics of salt. For example, some have claimed that just like salt, believers can make the world thirsty for God’s truth.  But this and similar ideas are somewhat fanciful and would not have been understandable in the context of what Jesus said without explanation. Likewise, it is commonly thought that Roman soldiers were paid in salt (hence the word “salary”), so that salt might have been a symbol of the disciples’ “worth,” but in fact the Empire’s soldiers were paid in normal money (or not at all), but not with salt.

Because Jesus did not explain which aspect of salt he intended in using the metaphor, we must presume that he had the most basic aspect in mind, which would mean that either or both meanings 1 and 3 above – salt as a flavor enhancer or a purifier – are most likely what he had in mind and how his hearers would have understood the expression. Understood in either of these ways, being the “salt” of the earth would certainly mean that we represent the world to God, just as in being the light of the world we represent God to humanity (Matthew 5:16).

But Jesus’ words also hold some practical aspects in his use of salt as a metaphor. After saying “you are the salt of the earth,” Jesus proceeded to say “But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men” (Matthew 5:13). This is interesting as salt cannot actually lose its saltiness unless it is diluted by water or mixed with other substances. Salt spoiled in such a way might often have simply been thrown out on the street, and it is also possible that such low grade salt was spread on Roman roads to inhibit vegetation growth. In either case it would be “trampled by men,” but the lesson would be that our belief and behavior must not be diluted by things of the world around us.

There is another way that spiritually we might lose our “saltiness.”  Jesus also told his disciples “Salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can you make it salty again? Have salt among yourselves, and be at peace with each other” (Mark 9:50, emphasis added). This suggests that our saltiness can be lost through a lack of peace with one another, and that we may cease to fulfill our function of making the world more acceptable to God by our “saltiness” either being diluted, as we saw above, or by not living peaceably with others.   These obstacles to successful discipleship are both worth thinking about.

One of the most notable traits of the Gospel of Mark is its immediacy. In Mark things happen now – or sooner!  We see this from the beginning of the Gospel in the way important events are described. Mark tells us that at the onset of Jesus’ ministry “At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness” (Mark 1:12). Without delay he called his disciples (1:18); they immediately followed him (1:18, 20); news about him spread quickly over the whole region of Galilee (1:28).

The pattern continues throughout the Gospel.  The Greek word eutheos, translated “immediately,” “straight away,” “at once,” etc. occurs no fewer than forty-two times in Mark and frequently colors the narrative.  This and other terms of time give a preciseness and immediacy to important events and also to everyday actions. When Mark tells us regarding Jesus and his disciples that “As soon as they left the synagogue they …” (1:29), he conveys a sense of pressing dedication to what they were doing.  When he tells us of the man healed by Christ: “immediately the leprosy left him” (1:42), we see the power that effected not an eventual but an immediate change.

And it is not just Jesus and the disciples that act with speed. Often the agents of evil do also. When John the Baptist is imprisoned, Salome’s daughter doesn’t just ask for the head of John – she asks for it “right now” (Mark 6:25). Mark paints a verbal picture of a cosmos in which good and evil are completely dedicated to their goals and the battle between them is being fought not in some past or potential future, but constantly in the here and now.

Why does Mark’s Gospel differ from the other three portraits of Jesus in this way?  To a large extent, it may have been the result of Mark’s audience. Most scholars believe that the primary original audience for Mark’s Gospel was a Roman one. There is plenty of internal evidence – such as the frequent use of Latin terms (for example, denarius in 12:15, quadrans in 12:42, praetorium in 15:16, and flagellare in 15:15) and details such as Mark’s use of the Roman system of dividing the night into four watches instead of the Jewish system of three divisions (Mark 6:48, 13:35) – to suggest this is true.
  
Mark’s Roman audience lived in a somewhat different world than the largely quiet and pastoral Judea. Romans were used to a faster pace of life enabled by straight Roman roads, organized commerce and efficient messenger systems.  In the Roman world, if something was important it would usually be done quickly – and something done quickly was often likely to be important.

But to only see the immediacy of Mark’s account as a product of Roman attitudes and expectations is to miss the point that Mark, like all the Gospels, speaks to a situation that goes beyond this world’s political and social realities – to the underlying spiritual reality of the story he tells.  Mark’s use of constantly active narrative showing the dedication and non-stop work of Jesus, along with his frequent use of the “historical present tense,” gives every reader of this Gospel a sense of a story that is occurring in the present – a story that includes continual pointers to the need for dedication and an attitude of urgency in doing the work of God. 

​Mark is a Gospel of now and his story challenges us to live out our part in God’s calling not in dwelling on events of the past or plans for the future, but in doing what we have been given to do, now.​

When we read the parables of Jesus in the New Testament, it is easy to presume that the occurrences of a given parable in different Gospels are just parallel accounts of the same event – a retelling of the same story. But this is not always true, as Jesus sometimes used the same parables and examples in teaching different groups at different times. 

There are clear instances of this, and we find a particularly meaningful example in the Parable of the Lamp (often called the Parable of the Candle and the Bushel) found in all three Synoptic Gospels – Matthew, Mark, and Luke. These three Gospels each record this same parable, but Matthew’s account, for example, shows a different setting to that of Mark and Luke.  In each case the parable is varied somewhat, and the lesson being given appears to have a different stress.

Essentially the parable discusses a lamp placed in one of three settings:  on a lamp stand, under a bed, or under a jar or bowl. But we should notice how the three accounts differ and the lessons they convey.

The Lamp on a Stand – the Lesson in Matthew:

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden.  Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house” (Matthew 5:14-15).

Matthew’s account does not include the “bed” mentioned in Mark and Luke because its stress is on the lamp being placed on a stand so all can see its light.  We see this stress in the extra words – unique to Matthew’s Gospel – which compare the lamp on a stand to a city on a hill (vs. 14). The lesson in this telling of the parable is made clear: “In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven” (vs. 16).  Matthew addresses those whose light shines like a lamp on a stand.

The Lamp under a Bed – the Lesson in Mark:

Mark’s account introduces another way the light can be treated: “…Do you bring in a lamp to put it under a bowl or a bed? Instead, don’t you put it on its stand?” (Mark 4: 21).  The “bed” (Greek klinē – a small couch or bed) Christ mentions  was a piece of furniture high enough to allow a small oil lamp to be placed beneath it, but low enough to limit the amount of light that would be visible. 

This telling of the parable seems to focus on the aspect of limited illumination – symbolic of a person who gives out a limited amount of the light at his or her disposal.  This limited light may help those close to the person, but that is all because the light is being held back.  Perhaps we see this in the warning found in Mark’s account: “Consider carefully what you hear … With the measure you use, it will be measured to you—and even more” (Mark 4:24).

Mark’s version of the parable speaks especially to those who limit their light: those who choose to be “low key” Christians in ways such as only sharing their light with others of the Faith – those “near” to them.
 
The Lamp under a Jar – the Lesson in Luke:

Luke’s version of this parable may have yet another stress: “No one after lighting a lamp covers it with a jar …” (Luke 8:16 ESV).  While some translations have “basket,” the Greek word skeuos indicates a ceramic jar, bowl or other container used to hold flour – not an open weave basket.  The meaning is important because placing an oil lamp under such a solid container not only stops all light from escaping, but also cuts off the air, causing the light to eventually go out.

This last fact makes Jesus’ words spoken at the end of the parable particularly significant: “Whoever has will be given more; whoever does not have, even what they think they have will be taken from them” (Luke 8:18).   Luke’s version of the parable seems to speak to those who receive the light, but whose religion is “personal” and they do not share the light they have with others “so that those who come in [from the outside] can see the light” (vs. 16, parenthetical comment added).  

Three Tellings – Three Lessons

So Jesus’ Parable of the Lamp is recorded for us in three versions, each with a different stress.  While the parable seems to have been used on separate occasions, it is clear from the details recorded in each instance that Jesus was stressing different lessons.  The parable speaking of putting a lamp on a stand, under a bed, or under a closed container stresses three ways in which we might deal with the light we are given: sharing it widely, sharing it in a very limited way, or not sharing it at all.  The ultimate question posed by the parable, of course, is what kind of lamp are we?

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*To learn more about the parables, download the free eBook The City on a Hill: Lessons from the Parables of Jesus from our sister site, here. 

​“God, who … calls those things which do not exist as though they did” (Romans 4:17  NKJV).

​In his Hugo Award winning science fiction novel, The Man in the High Castle,  Philip K. Dick created a “what if” world showing what the United States might have become if the assassination of President Roosevelt had occurred, and this event had eventually led to the American loss of  World War II and the United States being taken over by Germany and Japan. 

Although the author of this novel was apparently a somewhat unorthodox believer, it is clear that he was interested in the Bible and knew many of its characters and stories.  This is interesting because at its heart, the kind of “alternative history” genre that The Man in the High Castle pioneered is, in a sense, based on a profoundly biblical idea. In the Bible we see many examples of God comparing what might have been with what actually was – often well in advance of the events which triggered alternative histories. Even from the beginning we find the Genesis narrative giving two possible events based on obedience and disobedience to God – and their subsequent very different outcomes (Genesis 2:16-17).  

When God was about to lead the people of Israel into the land he had promised them, he also presented them with two possible histories: one based on obedience and one on disobedience – two divergent histories of blessings and curses:

“See, I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. For I command you today to love the Lord your God, to walk in obedience to him, and to keep his commands, decrees and laws; then you will live and increase, and the Lord your God will bless you in the land you are entering to possess. But if your heart turns away and you are not obedient … you will certainly be destroyed. You will not live long in the land you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess” (Deuteronomy 30:15-18).

In the same way, we find the prophets of God continually reminding Israel of the history they had given up in favor of the history of rebellion, defeat and punishment they had chosen (Jeremiah 17:5-8, 21:8-10, etc.). The story has continued throughout history as we know it, of course.  Left to ourselves, we humans have usually chosen the wrong path and made history what it is. Yet the word of God shows a carefully prepared and executed plan which made possible a switch from the disastrous history humans have chosen to one which will eventually bring them a far better reality (Revelation 21:1-7).  

In The Man in the High Castle, a single event – the assassination of the American president – led to a different history.  The alternative histories of what is now and what God plans for humanity are also affected by individual events. The story of Eden in Genesis  tells us of the first defining event for human history which created one outcome, but the stories of the birth, temptation, and sacrificial death of Christ told in the four Gospels show other defining events which have made possible a truly alternative history.

When we understand this, we come to see something about our own lives:  we too have the opportunity to construct alternate history.  Every time we choose to either turn away from wrong or to embrace it, to do good or not to do good, we construct an alternative reality.  We make our own part of history – and that of those around us –  better or worse.  In this sense, we have the God-given ability to create our own story, to choose our own history,  to make history different for ourselves and for others in our every word and every deed. 
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What alternate history will you make this year?