A few years ago, on a trip to Savannah, Georgia, I picked up a cookbook that has become one of my favorites: Mrs. Wilkes’s Boarding House Cookbook. The cookbook I purchased features some of Mrs. Wilkes’s staple recipes. The cover shows a smiling Southern matron holding out a dish full of perfectly browned, plump biscuits. Even the pickiest eater would be hard-pressed not to be won over by Mrs. Wilkes’s smile and sweet demeanor. Her recipes are, quite simply, marvelous.
But as I first started to explore the cookbook, I was struck by how simple the recipes are. If one were to examine the list of ingredients, one might be skeptical about how the food would taste. They involve very few seasonings, often just salt and pepper. I admit that, upon eyeing the ingredients, I initially thought the dishes would be rather bland. For instance, Mrs. Wilkes’s pot roast recipe has only a handful of ingredients: the roast itself, water, soy sauce, carrots, potatoes, black pepper, and flour. No wine, no broth, no onions, no salt. But I’m here to tell you that it is some kind of good.
After spending a while with this gem of a cookbook, I finally realized the underlying principle of Mrs. Wilkes’s cooking. Her recipes rely primarily on the natural taste of the food. A good pot roast doesn’t demand a battery of spices; it simply requires a fine piece of meat and a little saltiness to bring out the natural flavor of the meat. Mrs. Wilkes’s style of cooking is close to the ground, and this often seems foreign to those of us whose food is loaded with preservatives and chock full of spices. Cooking with Mrs. Wilkes’s recipes has reminded me of an essential part of good cooking, which is letting the ingredients themselves shine. And to do so, sometimes all we need is a little saltiness and some loving care.
Salt does have this mysterious quality, doesn’t it? A bland green bean comes to life with a bit of salt. Even some caramel or chocolate pops a bit more with salt thrown in. Salt, among its many properties, brings out the intrinsic flavor in food, and as such, it’s a perfect image for our vocation as the body of Christ. But in a Church that has become rather insipid, we may have forgotten just how effective a bit of salt can be.
Jesus tells us in his Sermon on the Mount that, because we are his disciples, we are the salt of the earth. We have the potential to bring out the best flavors in the world around us. But salt is no good if it sits on a shelf and isn’t used. Salt is ineffective if too little is thrown in or if too much is carelessly tossed on a dish. To be salt to the world requires awareness, intention, even artistic nuance. To be salt requires passion, care, and initiative. To be salt requires letting God do the work. We are the salt, but God will do the salting.
I suspect our Lord would chuckle at the theatrics that are sometimes employed in worship to rally the congregation into action. Jesus would lament our penchant for being endlessly innovative or spectacular in ministry. Jesus, I think, would gently point out that who we are is enough if used wisely, fully, and with a sense of hope. God has made us to be salt, and salt we are to be. No more, no less.
After all, the images Jesus uses in teaching are small things like mustard seeds and yeast and, of course, salt. Small things matter. Small things make a profound difference. And in a Church that is anxious about survival and is furiously grasping at straws of relevance, Jesus’s words should inspire great confidence within us.
But these days, it feels as if we have become adept at dismissing the power of these small things. A slow whittling away of spiritual practices, discipline, and commitment is a long, slippery slope to becoming salt that has lost its saltiness. And this is why Jesus’s teaching about the Law and the Prophets is so important and so incisively convicting. For all the careless Christian attempts to think that the Law and the Prophets are irrelevant to those of us who follow Christ, Jesus’s words offer a sharp rejoinder. For until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Our past is our present. The teaching of ages past and of the Church over the centuries is vital to our existence and to the life of the world. The small things matter, just like tiny grains of salt.
There are countless ways in which the modern Church can be like aged salt sitting uselessly on a shelf. In our quest to be welcoming and inviting, we have relaxed many of the commandments of old. These days, because the Church has lowered her standards, it’s all too easy to relax our commitment to worship on the Lord’s Day. Or we give ourselves permission not to get involved in ministry because we are already present for worship. Or we remain quiet in the face of injustice and wrong because it seems too political. Or we coddle one another in rather bland spiritual lives because our lives are simply too busy. Or we hide our Christianity and refrain from evangelism because we want to keep our faith private.
But the small things matter. Showing up on Sundays does matter. Participating in ministry does matter. Speaking out when cruelty is alive on our nation’s streets does matter. Letting our light shine to the world does matter, especially in a dark, troubled world. Like a little salt that enhances the natural flavor of a delicious piece of meat or delectable vegetable, the call of the Christian is nothing less than to be ubiquitous salt to a world that needs its natural goodness to shine. These days, it may seem like the world has no natural goodness, that it’s spoiled food, which is why the Church must let her saltiness bring out the flavors of a world that still retains its goodness underneath all the mess.
Perhaps the most chilling and heartbreaking aspect of the modern Church is her tendency towards malaise and apathy in some quarters. Thankfully, there are still pockets that shine vibrantly, giving hope to the wastelands. But we should all lament when the Church has lost her nerve and her bite. We should mourn that a Gospel meant for the farthest corners of the earth has been hidden under a bushel basket, that her saltiness has wasted away on a pantry shelf. We should bemoan spiritual gifts lying dormant and unused.
And yet, we should rejoice exceedingly that an answer to the Church’s present conundrum is right before our eyes. For a minute, we need to relinquish our fondness for flashiness and big schemes and corporate-style solutions. For a minute, let’s just sit with what Jesus tells us, because it’s true. We are the salt of the earth. And as such, we are not being asked to go into seclusion in fear of a world that is sinful and contaminated. We, as simple salt, are asked to go into the world, to be sprinkled in so that the world’s God-given goodness might rise to the fore. Some in our day are remarkably proficient at bringing out the worst in human nature. We as Christ’s disciples must be masters are bringing out the best.
Perhaps the most acute threat we face in these evil times is despair and hopelessness. They go along with bland food and chilling apathy and rigid complacency. In a world of gargantuan problems and systemic injustice as insidious as poison, we may be led to believe that there is nothing we can do.
But Jesus tells us that the only thing we can do is be ourselves as Christ’s living body. And as ourselves, we are salt to the earth. In a world of big problems, we are a small solution, but that smallness can make a world of difference. It’s surely true that a world into which our Lord and Savior came must be brimming with latent goodness. It’s surely true that where there seems to be nothing but darkness, light is waiting to be released. It’s surely true that even a Church that has become tasteless salt for a time, can be useful salt once again. For with God, the faithful remnant of a smaller Church is not an occasion for despair. Such a remnant is all the salt that is needed to draw out the world’s goodness, which thanks be to God, shall never perish.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
February 8, 2026