The Gospel today follows directly from the Beatitudes.
Jesus has just described what life in the kingdom looks like.
Now He tells us what that life is for.

“You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.”

Notice what Jesus does not say.

He does not say, “Try to become salt.”
He does not say, “Work hard so that one day you may be light.”

He says: You are.

To belong to Christ is already to be visible.
Salt that has lost its taste is useless.
Light that is hidden is pointless.

If faith does not shape how we live,
it has lost its purpose.

The first reading from Isaiah makes this unmistakably clear.

The people are fasting and performing religious deeds,
and God says: this is not the worship I desire.

True worship is lived mercy: feed the hungry, shelter the vulnerable,
care for those in need.

And then comes the promise: “Your light shall break forth like the dawn.”

Prayer that does not become love is empty.
This prepares us perfectly for the Gospel.

Jesus says the light must shine so that others may see our good works
and give glory to the Father.

Not admiration for us.
Glory for God.

The light is not ours.
We merely carry it.

This is why Jesus insists that the lamp is not hidden.
It is placed on a stand so that it gives light to all.

This means our lives should look different, shaped by a hope the world cannot explain.

Faith is not an accessory added to an otherwise complete life.
It is the centre around which everything else turns.

Salt matters only when it changes the flavour.
Light matters only when it reveals what would otherwise remain unseen.

So when Jesus says, “You are the light of the world,”
He is calling us to live in such a way
that Christ becomes visible — so that our lives quietly proclaim:

God is real,
His grace is at work,
and His Kingdom is near.

And this is why St Paul speaks the way he does.

He says he came
not with clever arguments,
but preaching one thing:

Jesus Christ — and Him crucified.

Faith does not grow through force or brilliance.
It grows because the Cross is real.

So Paul speaks simply,
so our faith rests
not on human wisdom,
but on the power of God.

This is crucial in our own time.

We live in a culture that claims to resist dogma.
Hostile to any claim that something is actually true.
Uneasy with firm teaching.

Yet the same culture shows its own kind of dogmatism.

It is dogmatic about what must not be said.
Dogmatic about what must be complied with.
Dogmatic about which moral claims are permitted
and which are forbidden.

It rejects doctrine
while creating new orthodoxies.

It rejects creeds
while enforcing unspoken creeds.

It speaks of tolerance, yet tolerates only what agrees with it.

This is why the Church must speak the truth clearly —
and live it visibly:

so that what is proclaimed from the altar
is recognisable in the lives of the faithful,
where truth and mercy meet in practice.

That is why Jesus speaks of salt and light,
not banners and weapons.

Salt works quietly.
Light works steadily.

Both change what they touch
without destroying it.

This is how the Church answers the intolerance of our age — by living the truth with mercy.

And this is why St Paul brings us back to the centre.
Christ — and Him crucified.

Faith does not rest on our strength or cleverness.
It rests on the power of God.

And that is why Jesus speaks the way He does.

Jesus is not saying, “Try harder.”

He says, “You are the light.”

That light comes from Him.

We do not produce it —
we reflect it.

And when we turn away from Christ,
the light cannot shine.

And this is why the Gospel follows the Beatitudes.

Only the poor in spirit,
the meek,
the merciful,
the peacemakers
can truly be salt and light — because their lives are turned toward God.

And when we remain close to Christ,
His light is reflected in us.

So the Fifth Sunday of Ordinary Time asks us to examine our witness.

“You are the salt of the earth.”
“You are the light of the world.”

The Gospel leaves us with a responsibility we cannot ignore:

light hidden is light denied,
salt unused is salt wasted,
faith kept private is faith misunderstood.

The question at the end of today’s readings
is not whether the world needs truth —
it does.

The question is whether we will allow
the truth we have received
to be seen.

Christ has made us salt.
Christ has made us light.

What remains
is whether we will live
as if that is true.