Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time – Sunday 8 February 2026
Welcome to our visitors and St Mary’s Cathedral parishioners who have gathered to pray.
When people ask me what I would suggest doing on a wet day in any city, I often say: take a backstage tour of a theatre to see the set designs, the complexity of stage entries from above, below and the sides, the lighting desk, the sound booth etc., where most people never go. It’s there, in the unseen spaces, that the magic of the performance is made possible. Without the backstage work, the stars under the lights simply could not shine.
That image is a helpful entree into today’s Gospel.
Jesus speaks about both what is seen and what is hidden — about the public witness of discipleship and the quiet, interior life of the heart. In a few weeks’ time, during Lent, we will hear Jesus say, “I am the light of the world.” But today he turns to those who have just heard the Beatitudes and says something even more arresting:
“You are the light of the world.”
He does not say: you might become. Nor you should try to become. And not even prove that you are. Jesus speaks in the present tense: you are the light of the world.
That is both an extraordinary affirmation and a demanding call. And having said it, Jesus challenges his hearers to be who you already are. Let your light shine. Let faith take flesh in the way you live, speak, act, forgive, persevere. Not for attention, not for applause, but so that others may glimpse something of God.
That does not mean being loud or pushy. It does not mean winning arguments or dominating conversations. Saint Paul is very clear about this. When he describes what it looks like to live by the Spirit, he does not begin with activity or visibility. He names qualities of the heart: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness.
Patience as light. Gentleness as light. Peace that does not agitate or inflame, but steadies and heals.
They are not spectacular virtues, but they are luminous ones. They reveal whether the light we claim to shine is real.
However, before all that Jesus first said: “You are the salt of the earth.”
Except at Tasman Sea Salt, salt is never the centre of attention. It works quietly, invisibly. No one admires the salt in a meal — but everyone notices if it is missing, or if there is too much. Salt is the unseen element that gives flavour, balance, integrity.
In that sense, salt highlights the backstage of the soul. It speaks of intention, motive, conscience. Jesus is gently but firmly saying: get the hidden things right first. In the silence at the end of the day, when the noise fades and the lights are dimmed, what is happening within us? Does our inner life leave us at peace? Are our thoughts about others patient and generous? Are we gentle with ourselves as well as with the world?
It may be possible to stage‑manage a good life — to look impressive under the lights — while the backstage is in disorder. Jesus will have none of that. The point of faith is not self‑display, but that “may give the praise your Father in heaven.” And that can only happen when the inner life is seasoned by the Spirit.
In other words, we cannot truly be light of the world unless we are first willing to be salt of the earth.
Let me add one final, crucial thought — about the word “you.”
When Jesus says, “You are the light of the world” and “You are the salt of the earth,” he is not speaking to isolated individuals. These words are addressed to a community, to a gathered people. These phrases are part of the Sermon on the Mount. The call is communal as well as personal.
The challenges of our world, and the challenges within our Church, are too complex for private virtue alone. Individual goodness matters — but it is not enough. We are called to walk together, to listen together, to discern together.
That is why only this week, bishops received a letter from Rome encouraging us to engage with our people in a renewed synodal process. For us in the Archdiocese of Hobart, this cannot be just a programme or a slogan, it has to be a way of being Church — a way of recognising our interconnectedness and shared responsibility. The Spirit speaks through the whole people of God, including voices that are often unheard or overlooked.
Like a theatre production, the life of the Church depends on far more than those in the spotlight. Without those who work quietly, faithfully, patiently behind the scenes, nothing shines. Everyone has a role. Everyone has flavour to add. Everyone has light to offer.
If we attend to the backstage of our hearts, if we season our common life with patience and gentleness, then the world may yet glimpse — not our brilliance — but God’s.
And that is the light that truly endures.
Most Rev. Anthony J. Ireland
Archbishop of Hobart
8 Feb 2026