Quietly Changing the World as SALT, as LIGHT

Homily: Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)

Isaiah 58:7-10 | 1 Corinthians 2:1-5 | Matthew 5:13-16

8 February 2026

Fr. Ricky Cañet Montañez, AA 

Have you ever noticed how sometimes the smallest things make a big difference? I was walking along a busy street when there was a sudden downpour. As I took shelter, I saw a street vendor struggling to hold her umbrella while serving customers. A tricycle driver with a slight frame, ran over and held the umbrella for her for a few minutes. He looked like he was about to be swept away by the wind, but he stayed. None of the customers paid any attention to him, but the vendor was able to serve her customers and survive another day. That little moment which hardly anyone noticed made a difference. 

His act of kindness while remaining invisible, reminded me of today’s readings on salt. Salt is never at the centre of a meal nor is it celebrated  at the dining table, but no cook can do without it. When we eat we do not normally see the salt, but we know it is there. In the same way, we are aware when it is missing. We never praise the salt in your “sinigang” or “adobo”. But without it, everything tastes bland. 

Today, Jesus tells us, “You are the salt of the earth” (Matthew 5:13).  I believe Jesus is telling us we need not draw attention to ourselves to do good in the world. We do not have to be flashy to make the world a little better. Like salt, we can quietly, faithfully, without recognition, bring flavour to the world. Our small acts of kindness, compassion, and service, can enhance life and make it more beautiful. How can we be salt? We can be that neighbour who quietly helps another resident who is struggling to buy food. We can be the co-worker who simply listens to a colleague who is carrying heavy problems. Or whatever small good we choose to do — a simple gesture, a kind word, a helping hand — let us do it quietly, without waiting for applause, without needing an audience, and without posting it on social media. It is because real love does not perform; it simply serves. 

St. Paul reminds us that we do not need to be impressive to make a difference. He came “in weakness and fear,” not with eloquence or wisdom (1 Corinthians 2:1-5). Faith is not a performance; it is authenticity. People do not need perfect Christians; they need real ones. Even the Barangay health worker who quietly visits the elderly at home, or the jeepney driver who gives a free ride to someone sick, are living examples of this truth. Isaiah gives us a clear picture of what this looks like in real life. God does not ask for empty fasting or rituals that make ourselves seem impressive. On the contrary, He asks us to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, and not turn away from those in need (Isaiah 58:7-10). 

Jesus also calls us the light of the world. Salt enhances flavour whereas light shatters darkness. Light does not shout. It quietly shines, slowly and steadily. A little bit of it already makes a difference in a dark room. Even a small candle during a “brownout” can keep someone from tripping over objects on the floor while moving through the house. 

That is exactly how our lives can be. We may not change the whole world, but the simple things we do — listening to a friend, forgiving a family member, helping someone in need, volunteering quietly at the parish — bring light into someone’s darkness. 

Brothers and sisters, holiness is not about being spectacular. It is about being faithful in the small, quiet, and consistent ways we serve. We may never be noticed, and that is okay. What matters is that someone’s life is warmer, brighter, and better because of us. That small light we offer, that small flavour we add — it may be of no consequence or inconvenience to us but it could change someone’s world. When we live this way, our lives themselves become a witness. People may not remember what we said or how we looked, but they will never forget how we made them feel, how our quiet presence made their day, their week, or even their life a little sweeter, a little lighter. 

And maybe, when we reach heaven, God will not ask: “How famous were you?” He will ask: “Whose life became better because you were there?” And if even one person says, “Lord, because of him/her… life had flavour… life had light”—that will be enough for Him. May we all be like salt that quietly elevates and may we be like light that shines without discrimination — not for glory, not for applause — but because this is the way Christ works through us to make life better for others.

An award-winning, art by Greg Rutkowski