Is. 58:6-10; 1 Cor. 2:1-5; Mt. 5:13-16
Jesus does not say, “You are the light.” This is both a gift and a responsibility. He uses images familiar to His listeners: a city on a hill, visible from far away, and a lamp placed on a stand so that it gives light to everyone in the house. These images remind us that light, by its very nature, is meant to be seen and shared. A hidden lamp is useless; a covered light defeats its own purpose. In the same way, a faith that remains private, silent, and disconnected from daily life fails to fulfill its mission.
Throughout history, one of the most powerful symbols of light guiding people has been the lighthouse. Built on rocky shores and dangerous coastlines, lighthouses do not move, do not chase ships, and do not shout instructions. They simply stand firm, shining steadily through storms, fog, and darkness. Sailors navigating treacherous waters look not for noise but for light. A lighthouse does not remove the rocks from the sea, but it warns sailors of danger and shows them the safe way to shore. Many lighthouse keepers lived lonely, disciplined lives, faithfully trimming wicks and refilling oil, knowing that a neglected light could cost lives. In this image, we see our Christian calling clearly. We may not be able to remove all the chaos, injustice, and confusion of the world, but by living faithfully, consistently, and compassionately, we can warn others of danger and point them toward hope.
The prophet Isaiah, in today’s reference from Isaiah 58:6–10, makes it clear that the light God desires is not mere ritual or outward religiosity. God rejects fasting that ignores injustice and suffering and instead calls His people to lose the bonds of injustice, to share bread with the hungry, to shelter the homeless, and to clothe the naked. Then, Isaiah says, “your light shall break forth like the dawn.” Light, in God’s understanding, is inseparable from justice, mercy, and concrete acts of love. True light shines not from words alone but from lives that heal, restore, and uplift. When we respond to human suffering with compassion, when we refuse to ignore the poor or the broken, our light begins to rise in the darkness.
St. Paul, writing to the Corinthians (1 Cor. 2:1–5), adds another important dimension to this theme. He reminds them that he did not come with eloquence or human wisdom, but with weakness, fear, and trembling, so that their faith might rest not on human power but on the power of God. This teaches us that being light does not mean being impressive, dominant, or loud. Often, the brightest light shines through humility, simplicity, and dependence on God. In a world obsessed with influence, image, and self-promotion, Paul reminds us that God’s light shines most clearly when we allow His grace, not our ego, to take center stage.
There is a beautiful old story from ancient times about a small village that lay in a mountain valley. Every night, travelers passing through the dangerous mountain paths would look for a single lamp placed in a window at the highest house in the village. That lamp marked the safe path and warned of steep cliffs nearby. One night, the lamp was not lit. The homeowner had grown tired and careless, thinking, “Surely one night without light will not matter.” That same night, a traveler lost his way and fell into a ravine. The next day, the village realized that what seemed like a small act of neglect had serious consequences. This story reminds us that our daily choices, our consistency, and our faithfulness matter more than we realize. Someone, somewhere, may be depending on the light we provide.
In the modern world, our generation experiences a unique kind of darkness. It is not always the darkness of ignorance, but often the darkness of confusion. We are surrounded by information, yet many lack wisdom. We are more connected than ever, yet loneliness is widespread. We speak constantly, yet genuine listening is rare. In such a world, to be light means to offer clarity where there is confusion, compassion where there is indifference, and integrity where there is dishonesty. A Christian who lives truthfully in a culture of half-truths becomes a light. A person who forgives in a climate of revenge becomes a light. A family that practices patience and respect in a hurried and divided society becomes a city on a hill.
Jesus says, “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” The goal of shining is not self-glory but God’s glory. This is a crucial distinction. Light does not draw attention to itself; it reveals what is around it. When our good works lead others to praise us, the light has become distorted. But when our actions cause others to say, “God must be at work there,” then the light is doing what it was meant to do. This requires constant self-examination and humility, especially in an age where even good deeds are sometimes performed for recognition or social approval.
There is a touching tradition from early Christian communities about believers who would place a small lamp in their window at night, especially during times of persecution. It was a silent signal to fellow Christians that this was a safe place, a home of faith, a place of prayer. They did not preach loudly in the streets, but their quiet, steady light spoke volumes. Today, our “windows” may be our workplaces, our schools, our online presence, and our neighborhoods. What kind of light shines from these spaces? Does it signal hope, honesty, and kindness, or does it reflect anger, division, and fear?
Light also involves warning, just as a lighthouse warns ships of danger. This is not always comfortable. Light exposes what is hidden. It reveals injustice, corruption, and sin. To be light in the modern world sometimes means standing for truth when it is unpopular, defending the dignity of the weak when it is inconvenient, and refusing to participate in systems that harm others. This kind of light may attract criticism, just as bright light can irritate sensitive eyes. Yet Jesus never promised that shining would be easy; He only promised that it would be necessary.
At the same time, light leads people to the right path. In moments of moral confusion, people look for examples more than explanations. They watch how believers respond to failure, suffering, and disagreement. A Christian who remains calm in crisis, hopeful in loss, and faithful in uncertainty becomes a living signpost pointing toward God. In families broken by misunderstanding, in workplaces marked by competition, and in societies divided by fear, such light can gently but powerfully guide others toward reconciliation and peace.
Isaiah reminds us that when we “remove the yoke from among us, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,” then the light rises in the darkness. This speaks directly to our times, where blame, judgment, and harsh speech dominate public and private conversations. Choosing respectful dialogue, refusing to spread hatred, and actively seeking understanding are modern ways of letting our light shine. These actions may seem small, but like a single lamp in a dark room, they can transform the entire atmosphere.
Ultimately, Jesus’ words challenge us personally: where have we hidden our light under a bushel basket? Fear of rejection, desire for comfort, or temptation to conform can cause us to dim the light God has entrusted to us. The sermon on the mount does not allow us the comfort of anonymity. A city on a hill cannot be hidden, and neither can a disciple who truly follows Christ. Our lives speak, whether we intend them to or not.
The lesson is clear and demanding. To be light of the world today means to live visibly Christian lives marked by love, justice, humility, and courage. It means feeding the hungry, standing with the marginalized, speaking truth with kindness, and trusting God’s power more than our own abilities. In the chaos experienced by our generation—social unrest, moral uncertainty, and spiritual fatigue—God does not ask us to curse the darkness but to light a lamp. And through our shining, others may find their way, and God our Father will be glorified.
Satish