St. John’s Lutheran Church
Albany, New York
8 February 2026 + The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
Lectionary 5a
Matthew 5:13-20
The Rev. Josh Evans

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Light is a powerful image.

Just about a decade ago, I was on internship –
the nearly year-long period of full-time field education
required as a part of my seminary formation –
at Augustana Lutheran Church in Omaha, Nebraska.
It was 2016 –
which also happened to be the year of a presidential election,
and living in one of only two states that split their electoral votes
made for a unique learning experience in and of itself.

Nebraska is also home to Lutheran Family Services,
which, as I learned,
is the largest refugee resettlement agency in the state.
Just down the hall from my office,
Lutheran Family Services held near-daily ESL classes at Augustana,
while a local Chin Baptist congregation worshipped
in Augustana’s sanctuary on Sunday afternoons
after the primarily European-descent Lutherans had left.
Even Augustana’s own tradition of their annual æbleskiver supper
hearkened back to the Danish roots of some of its members.

Augustana was a sanctuary
filled with the vibrancy of an immigrant community –
some newly arrived and others long-established –
gathering for education, worship, and a sense of belonging.

In the months following the election,
travel bans and other executive orders
targeting already vulnerable immigrant populations
and disrupting refugee resettlement
became a cause for fear and concern for many.

In response, Omahans from across the city
took to the streets – literally –
lining up on both sides of Dodge Street,
one of the city’s busiest corridors,
during the evening rush hour
to “Light the Way,” as the vigil was called.

It stretched for miles.
Some people held up banners
or homemade signs on dollar store poster board
with messages like “Welcome to Omaha.”
Others held candles, flash lights, even glow sticks –
literally lighting the way.
Drivers passing by honked their support.
I was also there,
along with several Augustana members,
to remind our refugee and immigrant neighbors:
We see you.
We welcome you.
You are safe here.

It was a powerful witness
and a powerful image:
Let your light shine before others.

***

Salt is equally powerful.
(Ask anyone who lives in the northern hemisphere during winter.)

With millions of tons used every year,
rock salt doesn’t technically melt ice
but rather works to lower the freezing point of water,
making it harder for the water molecules to bond together
in the rigid structure that creates ice.
In fancy science words –
and let’s remember it’s been a minute since high school chemistry –
salt is a solute in water
and, as it dissolves, breaks down into its elements, known as ions,
and those ions take up space and get in the way of water molecules,
inhibiting them from linking together to form ice
in a phenomenon called “freezing point depression” –
all working to keep drivers and pedestrians safe
from slick and dangerous roads.

In short: Salt disrupts ice.

***

Meanwhile in Saint Louis Park, Minnesota,
the Needle & Skein, a humble local yarn shop,
has found itself in the global spotlight.
In response to the ICE (capital I. C. E.) occupation of Minneapolis
and the murder of Renee Good last month,
Needle & Skein owner Gilah Mashaal has taken to crafting
to voice her protest –
creating a simple pattern for knitted red hats
based on a similar style worn by Norwegians in the 1940s
to protest the Nazi occupation of their country.

Over the past few weeks,
Needle & Skein has been selling these patterns
for the so-called “Melt the ICE” hat for $5,
donating the proceeds to organizations that support immigrant communities.
As of February 5th, they’ve collected $650,000 in donations –
and even caused a shortage of red yarn
not only in the Twin Cities but across the country.

“When knitters and crocheters see something that needs to be done,”
Mashaal reflects,
“they get together and they do it.”

***

It’s probably not exactly the image Jesus had in mind
when he exhorted his followers to be salty,
but it is equally powerful all the same.

From knitted red hats
and candlelight vigils
to yesterday’s “ICE Out” rally in downtown Troy
and our forthcoming Lutheran Day at the Capitol (read your newsletter!),
our communities are speaking up –
and showing us powerful reminders
of what it means to be faithful citizens
and faithful disciples.

When we welcome the newly baptized,
we literally give them light in the form of a candle,
encouraging them with echoes of Jesus’ own words:
“Let your light so shine before others
that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”

It’s tangible reminder of our baptismal covenant:
“to live among God’s faithful people,
to hear the word of God and share in the Lord’s supper,
to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed,
to serve all people, following the example of Jesus,
and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth.”

***

In a video statement released this past week,
Lutheran clergy in Minnesota speak directly
to those who have been terrorizing their community:
“Stop. Just stop…
There is another way.
It’s the way of love.
It’s the way of mercy.
It’s the way of peace.
And we see it arising all around us.”

In grandparents on street corners,
young adults keeping watch,
restaurant workers bringing food to the traumatized,
neighbors delivering groceries,
strangers protecting strangers,
even a 70-year-old Lutheran woman
following ICE around Minneapolis in her Subaru Crosstrek –
“ordinary people who trust that mercy
has the power to crack the armor of domination.”

***

Ordinary people.

You are the light of the world.
Let your light shine –
bearing light and love
for the sake of our neighbors
whom God so loves.

Ordinary people.

You are the salt of the earth.
Be salty –
disrupting aggression with compassion,
resisting hatred with love,
meeting fear with solidarity.

Ordinary people.

This is our call.