Matthew 5:13-16, Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

“You are the salt of the earth…you are the light of the world.” When Jesus said these
words, I imagine, he must’ve been gazing at his friends for a while and felt very proud of them.
Like the way, you parents, sometimes find yourselves just looking at your kids and thinking the
world of them. None of Jesus’ friends were rich by any stretch of the imagination. But they left
everything to help him help people they didn’t even know. Day by day, they helped him minister
to the sick, the hungry, the exhausted. Unless they pooled their shekels together, or took a break
and went fishing, no one was sure where to get the next meal. So, salt of the earth and light of the
world were not only words of affirmation, but also of gratitude. Jesus must’ve been endlessly
thankful to heal more sick people because of his disciples, feed more of the hungry, comfort
more weary souls, in his strange yet fascinating world where good things came pro bono. There
are 2.6 billion of us Christians today. We owe this to the history-shaping, the world-changing,
the original influencers. And I bet, sisters and brothers, Jesus’ friends didn’t even know they were
or would be the biggest influencers of all time. Salt doesn’t flavor itself. Light doesn’t shine on
itself.

Have you heard of this famous Italian, Fr Alberto Ravagnani? He announced a few days
ago he was leaving the priesthood. And the algorithms exploded with the news. He was one of
Italy’s best-known priests: 300,000 Instagram followers, 150,000 on Tiktok, millions of views. Young,
handsome, tall like a tree, and muscular, he used social media for ministry, especially to Gen Z. Initially,
he talked about the catechism, church, sacraments, etc, in an idiom accessible and captivating to
his target audience. Oh, but he was adored by both young and old. As Ravagnani became more
viral, though, he wore the Roman collar less and less, so that ordinary people, he said, would be
able to identify with him. Then, the spiritual content in his vlogs was slowly replaced by pictures
and videos in the gym, and his gym bros, his body-building, his skin care, the supplements he took.
One of his captions went: “Holy, yes, but also healthy.” This shift in persona went on until the
only thing that distinguished him from the rest of today’s young, handsome, tall-like-a-tree,
muscular men, was his title, “Father.” Then, he decided to shed that one, too. Whereupon a
recent editorial said: “From the gym to supplements, to an increasingly ‘cool’ aesthetic: the line
between being in the world and being of the world has become incredibly thin. When a priest fully
adopts the language of a content creator, the risk is that the logic of content (which must be
productive, entertaining, and pleasing) will replace the logic of the Gospel (which is often
uncomfortable, silent, and ‘off-target’).”

Ravagnani is only one of thousands today who are running after the next viral moment.
From their faces to their feelings, from words of wisdom to rants, from the bedroom to the gyms
to the bars, even to the bathroom, everything is content and more chillingly, the self is the
“merch.” Social media has no gatekeepers, no barriers. Just pure self-expression. So, influencers
celebrate their freedom online! I keep wondering, though: do they realize how much they’re
really under the mercy of algorithms? Don’t they notice they actually have no control over how
their viewers will receive their content? Yet, imagine the feverish refrain: “I’m only as good as
my latest selfie, only as good as my last video.” No off-button to the show. No sabbath day in the
performance. Today’s influencers ache to be seen by masters they don’t even see. Sure enough,
mental health professionals note that many influencers can’t even tell anymore where their online
self ends and where their real self begins. That line is thin and blurry now, if it isn’t gone already.
Very different back in Jesus’ day, isn’t it, sisters and brothers? Our original influencers
were a ragtag team of fishermen and workers. Virtually nobodies. No social capital, no platform,
no brand. Just the irrepressible desire to help Jesus do what he was doing for others as poor as
they all were, even poorer. But Jesus thought the world of them! Their love language–acts of
service–gave flavor to lives unleavened by poverty. It shone into dark dead-ends of illness,
hunger, and despair.

Sisters and brothers, how, then, do we impress upon today’s young people that algorithms
are never the measure for life’s meaning and value, and that compassion and generosity are? Like
OFWs filling their humble balikbayan boxes little by little over many months, that’s real
meaning and value. How do we convince today’s young that real influence doesn’t say, “Look at
me” but rather looks after people, esp. those with hardly anyone looking out for them? Two
security guards I know adopted their pamangkins being maltreated by their own parents, kahit
hirap na hirap na sila sa buhay, and with children of their own. That’s where the “looking” matters.
How do we show today’s young that audience doesn’t matter, community does? A very kind
former celebrity I know has long left showbiz to uplift poor children full-time. Never mind her
audience. Community matters more. And how do we assure today’s young that all these are
possible, that it’s been done by many, many people without the camera and the ring-light, and has
changed many, many lives?

We’re now in an era where we commodify ourselves so that the audience marvels at how
delicious, how bright our lives are. But Jesus keeps showing and telling the opposite. Salt does not
flavor itself. As it seasons, it dissolves. Light does not brighten itself. It streams outwards for
everything to be seen, except its own source.

The words of our first reading can’t be any clearer. “Share your bread with the hungry.
Shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them. Then your light shall
break forth like the dawn and your wound shall quickly be healed. Then you shall call and the Lord
will answer; you shall cry for help and he will say: Here I am!” When we lose ourselves being salt
and light to others, there we find ourselves, and more, we find God. And it’s God’s loving gaze that
matters most.

*image from the Internet