Let your light shine

I have always been a bit afraid of the dark. As a kid, I wouldn’t enter the basement until I reached around and flipped on the light. I am better now, but am by no means fond of the “sounds in the dark” I recall from my handful of experiences deer hunting.

There is a word that appears again and again in Sacred Scripture, and it is not accidental – light:

• Isaiah says, “Your light shall break forth like the dawn.” (Is 58:8). 

• The psalmist proclaims, “The just person is a light in darkness.” (Ps 112:4) 

• Jesus, himself, declares, “You are the light of the world.” (Mt 5:14)

Light is not something we produce. It is something we receive – and then reflect. Moreover, that is what a steward is meant to live in the parish, in the family, and in the workaday world. Stewardship is faith received, mercy embodied, and trust lived publicly. But in order to live this way, we must be clear about what this “light” actually is.

Isaiah 58 provides a remarkably concrete description. He does not speak in abstractions. He does not say that light is “having good intentions” or “thinking generous thoughts.” Isiah 58:7, 9-10 says:

• Share your bread with the hungry.

• Shelter the oppressed and the homeless.

• Clothe the naked.

• Remove from your midst oppression, false accusation, and malicious speech.

• Satisfy the afflicted.

• And do not turn your back on your own.

These are what the Church has always called the Corporal Works of Mercy: Feed the hungry; give drink to the thirsty; clothe the naked; shelter the homeless; visit the sick; visit the imprisoned; and bury the dead.

These actions are the light that makes faith visible. They are not optional add-ons to Christian living. They are the outward expression of a disciple who has been converted by faith in the Lord.

Isaiah then ends with a promise that should strike us deeply. He uses one very important word: then. “Then your light shall break forth like the dawn.” Not before – then. In other words, light becomes visible when mercy becomes embodied.

Psalm 112 deepens this picture even further. The just person is described as gracious, merciful, steadfast, and unafraid. Why? Because his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord. Our stewardship – whether we speak of time, talent, and treasure, or prayer, presence, generosity, and testimony – is not rooted in surplus or luxury. It is rooted in trust.

That trust frees a person to give lavishly – not only of finances, but of time, presence, attention, and patience. The just person can be light because his heart is anchored somewhere deeper than fear, scarcity, or self-protection. He truly believes that God will not be outdone in generosity.

This brings us to the Spiritual Works of Mercy: to instruct the ignorant; counsel the doubtful; comfort the afflicted; bear wrongs patiently; forgive offenses willingly; admonish the sinner; and pray for the living and the dead.

If the corporal works address bodily poverty, the spiritual works address something just as real – and often more hidden and more costly. While corporal works can sometimes be offered at a distance, the spiritual works require personal presence:

• You cannot comfort the afflicted from a distance.

• You cannot counsel the doubtful without listening.

• You cannot bear wrongs patiently unless you are willing to be inconvenienced.

In other words, they require relationship. And the loss of relationship is precisely where so much of the pain in our world lies today – not only in empty stomachs, but in empty hearts; not only in a lack of resources, but in isolation, confusion, and loneliness.

Finally, in the gospel, Jesus turns to us and says something that should stop us in our tracks: “You are the light of the world.” (Mt 5:14) Not you might be. Not you should try to be. You are.

And then he adds, “That they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.” (Mt 5:16) Our good deeds are not for self-display; they are for God’s glory. That is why they are light – they reveal the infinite compassion of our heavenly Father.

When a parish feeds the hungry, shelters the homeless, comforts the grieving, forgives patiently, prays faithfully, and walks with people in their doubt, that parish becomes a lamp on a stand. It truly becomes a stewardship parish.

When I was a child, I was afraid of the dark. Now, as adults in faith, we cannot allow ourselves to be afraid to be the light.

Let your light shine..