My question today is about snacks or, if you prefer, “junk food.” It’s a very simple question and doesn’t require much thought. It’s this: How many of you like pretzels? I admit I do. But that’s OK, because pretzels are really a “holy” food. There’s a legend about pretzels. According to some sources, pretzels were first made way back in the seventh century by a monk, probably a German monk! Anyway, this monk, who worked in the kitchen, took strips of leftover bread dough and twisted them into the shape of arms folded in prayer and gave them as little rewards to children who had learned to recite their prayers. Some say the word “pretzel” comes from the Latin word1 for either “little reward“ or “little arms.” Either way, pretzels are like little arms folded in prayer. And so eating pretzels can be considered to be a religious experience.2
But that’s not why I like them. I don’t know about you, but I like them because of the salt. A pretzel without salt isn’t really a pretzel, it’s more like a stone! I mean do you really enjoy a “salt-free” pretzel? Of course, the problem now days is that everything is “salt-free.” If you listen to commercials and read news articles, it almost appears salt is a toxic chemical. Now I agree that people with hypertension, with high blood pressure, should watch their intake of salt, but unless we realize the importance of salt in our lives, our Gospel reading for today doesn’t make too much sense.
Back in the time of Jesus, salt was a very important part of the diet, especially for those who worked outside in the sunlight and lost a good deal of salt through sweat, or “perspiration,” if you prefer the term used in commercials we see on television. Anyway, salt was so important that Roman soldiers received an allocation of salt to be consumed so that they could replace the salt they lost when they were sweating under their leather uniforms. Later-on, these Roman soldiers received money so they could buy their own salt when it was needed. And the word for that “money for salt” was “salarium,” which became today’s word “salary.” Back then, it really meant something if you were “worth your salt.”
Two thousand years ago, they didn’t know why salt was so necessary for life. But the Romans and Jews did know that without salt they would die. At the same time, they recognized salt was not the food, itself, you could not live on a diet of salt alone. Salt was added to the food to make it palatable, and, in the long run, to allow the salt, itself, to be consumed. There aren’t too many people I know of who would eat a teaspoon of salt by itself.
The Romans and Jews also used salt for other purposes. They preserved food with it. Obviously, they didn’t have refrigerators. And blocks of ice were not available much of the year. So, they’d pickle both meats and vegetables. They would literally “salt away” their harvests for use during times of difficulty, when food would be scarce. Without such help provided by salt, they would not survive the winter months. So, for the Jews, salt not only added taste to bland food, it was also necessary for life itself, especially in difficult times.
And so it was Jesus said to his followers: “You are the salt of the earth. But what if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.” Salt was not the food, itself, but without salt, food would not be the same. Elsewhere, Jesus told his disciples he, himself, was the food come down from heaven. He was the living bread. Yet, what good is food without salt? It is the salt that makes the food able to be consumed. Salt preserves the food for times of difficulty. Perhaps, what Jesus was saying was: it is through your actions (through our actions) that the food of God’s life is made known to others. It is through our actions the food of God, the Word of God, is preserved for times of potential hunger, our own and that of our brothers and sisters.
The words of Jesus echo those we heard today from the prophet Isaiah: “Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own.” We are to use our God-given gifts, our talents, to help others and thereby proclaim the glory of God, not to proclaim our own glory but the glory of God. We are the salt of the earth, we are not the food, but rather we are the elements which allow the food to be consumed by others, to strength others.
Not to use our talents in this way is a waste of God’s gifts. We would be like salt that has lost its flavor and would be useful for nothing, deserving to be tossed out into the street where passers-by trample it under foot. At the same time, Jesus reminded his followers that they (that we) are the light of the world. Light does not exist for itself. Light exists to illuminate other things. Light should not be hidden under a bushel basket.
Why kindle a light at all, if it is to be hidden away? Rather the light is to be placed so it can be seen. So it can do what it was intended to do, what it was created to do. As Jesus said: “Your light must shine before others so that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.” Others are not to praise us, ourselves, for what we do. Rather, our actions should lead them to praise God, our heavenly Father, because of what we do on his behalf.
Yet, sometimes, when we act on his behalf, we may need to remember what St Paul wrote to the Corinthians in today’s Second Reading: “I came to you in weakness and fear, and much trembling, and my message and my proclamation were not with persuasive words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of Spirit and power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.”
So it is that sometimes we must raise our light even with fear and trembling, knowing our light is enkindled by the power of God. We are the “salt of the earth.” We are the “light of the world.” It is not our task to be food for others, but to flavor and to preserve the food which gives life to others. We are the “light of the world” that exists not for ourselves but to illuminate the world, so others do not walk in darkness.
While we are intended to accomplish much, to light up the entire world with our fire, there are times when we may be merely little pretzels with our arms folded in prayer. Little pretzels who realize sooner or later our salt must be shared with others, for the glory of our heavenly Father.3
Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time February 4, 1996; February 6, 2005 (revised)
Is 58:7-10; 1 Cor 2:1-5; Mt 5:13-16
- The Latin word pretoila means “little reward.” The Latin word brachiatellum means “little arms.” It’s hard to see how either word became “pretzel,” but that’s what the legend says!
- After Mass, Fr. John Upton, our pastor, speculated to me whether eating nine pretzels could be considered to be a “novena!”
- I bought several bags of pretzels and had the Greeters (Ushers) make them available at all of the exits from the church so that “kids” could take “one” as they left the service. It appeared, however, that many parents, also, like both little arms and little rewards.