February 8, 2026
V Sunday of Ordinary Time, A
Mt 5: 13-16
Today's Gospel passage (Mt 5:13–16) begins with a pronoun: you.
“You are the salt of the earth…You are the light of the world” (Mt 5:13).
It is the same pronoun with which the passage we heard last Sunday, that of the Beatitudes, had ended. In fact, that passage concluded precisely with these words: “Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you....Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven” (Mt 5:11–12).
After speaking in general terms (“blessed are the poor,” “blessed are the meek”…), in the last Beatitude Jesus moved to direct address: Blessed are you…
This final Beatitude therefore refers to a particular experience of the early Christian community: that of tribulation and persecution: It is the moment when faith is put to the test, when one must pass through difficult times without any support, with nothing but pure faith.
It is the moment when everything seems to be fading away, when life risks having only the bitter taste of sadness and failure.
But this is not the case.
Even this experience, in fact, can be an experience of blessedness, because it is a privileged place of encounter with the Lord. Precisely when we are troubled and afflicted, He stands at the door and knocks.
It is the moment when, by grace, our life becomes wide open to a mission that carries us beyond ourselves: to be, precise, the salt of the earth and the light of the world.
What does this mean?
Those who embody the Beatitudes are able to form new relationships: they set boundaries on their own power, bear the evil they meet on their path, and thus make space for others to exist and to become fully who they are; they make it possible for the Kingdom to grow
Those who live the Beatitudes are capable of new kinds of relationships: they limit their own power, take responsibility for the evil they encounter on their path, and in doing so, they enable others to exist, to become fully themselves; they allow the Kingdom to grow.
They become salt and light, that is, a benevolent gaze upon life and the taste of God in the midst of their brothers and sisters.
Jesus, however, does not dwell on explaining the meaning of these two images, but rather warns his disciples of the risk of losing this possibility.
This is no small loss, because what is at stake is the very identity of the disciples: being salt and light is not a duty, but an identity; not a task to be carried out, but the form that their presence will take in their relationship with others.
The risk is that the salt “loses its taste” (Mt 5:13) and that the light wishes “to remain hidden” (Mt 5:15).
If a lamp, for fear of losing its light, were to stop shining, it would be of no use; and if salt, for fear of disappearing, were to stop seasoning, it would be of no use.
Their existence would be pointless.
If a disciple, for fear of losing his life by giving it away, were to keep it for himself, not only would he fail to generate life, but he himself would die.
For this reason, it is helpful to pause for a moment on the Greek word translated as “to lose taste.”
In the New Testament this term appears four times: here and in its parallel in Luke (Lk 14:34), then at the beginning of the Letter to the Romans (Rom 1:22) and at the beginning of the First Letter to the Corinthians (1 Cor 1:20). In both of these latter occurrences it refers to someone who thinks he is wise but, in God's logic, is foolish.
He thinks he is wise because he deludes himself into believing that he can save himself, and this is precisely his great foolishness.
We must therefore conclude that what causes the loss of taste, what hides the light, is not persecution, trial, or suffering. It is not when we are persecuted, insulted, when everyone speaks ill of us: this is not what takes away our taste of life nor what slows the journey.
What robs life of its flavor and renders it useless and unfruitful is the desire to save oneself, distancing oneself from the logic of Easter, taking the side of those who exploit, who are arrogant, those who humiliate life.
On the contrary, it is precisely the moment of trial that reveals the solidity of our relationship with God, which does not fail even amid the storms of life. Not because of our own skill or merit, but because of the promise of covenant of the One who is God-with-us: this is what the whole Gospel of Matthew is about, from beginning to end.
You, therefore, who are persecuted and humiliated, you who are in trial, you are the salt of the earth and you are the light of the world.
Whatever good and beautiful can be born in the world passes through there.
+Pierbattista
*Translated from Italian by the Media Office of the Latin Patriarchate
