Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. Not that we are competent of ourselves to claim anything as coming from us; our competence is from God, who has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant, not of letter but of spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.
Now if the ministry of death, chiseled in letters on stone tablets, came in glory so that the people of Israel could not gaze at Moses' face because of the glory of his face, a glory now set aside, how much more will the ministry of the Spirit come in glory? For if there was glory in the ministry of condemnation, much more does the ministry of justification abound in glory! Indeed, what once had glory has lost its glory because of the greater glory; for if what was set aside came through glory, much more has the permanent come in glory!
Jesus said to his disciples,
"You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under-foot.
"You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.
In India when two people meet, instead of shaking hands as we do in the West, they have a graceful custom of joining their hands, as if in prayer, and bowing towards each other, a gesture which appears so meaningful and full of respect. Perhaps the best way to counter the sign of the clenched fist, mentioned today by Isaiah, is with the sign of the joined hands, which denotes generosity and respect, and one might even say readiness to pray for others. If you allow your life to be moulded by such attitudes, then indeed "your light will rise in the darkness, and your shadows become like the noonday." The gospel is even more emphatic when it says, "Your light must shine before others, so that, seeing your good works, they may give the praise to your Father in heaven."
There might seem a contradiction between "letting your light shine," and the fact that Jesus spent most his own life--with the exception of three years--in the obscurity of the remote village of Nazareth, seemingly with little effect, since his neighbours obstinately refused to see him as anything other than the carpenter, the son of Mary. So much so that , as St Mark tells us, Jesus "could work no miracle there because of their lack of faith," (Mk 6:5f). How consistent is Jesus, if he cautions us not to hide our light under a tub, while all that time at Nazareth he seemed like the man in his own parable, who hid talent in the ground.
The message of his quiet life in Nazareth is not easy to unravel. What Jesus was called upon to practise at Nazareth was the heroism of the ordinary, the daily, often dull, routine, which requires its own kind of courage. Nazareth then was the scene of a hidden life, the ordinary everyday life of a family, made up of work and prayer, marked only by hidden virtues, and only God and Christ's closest relatives and neighbours were witnesses to any of it. Here in fact we have mirrored the lives of the majority of us. What sets him apart from the rest of us is that he possessed the one basic talent, beside which all others are worthless. This was his ability to remain in God, to anchor his whole life firmly in the Father, to let the Father be the guiding force in his life. In his own words, "The Son can do only what he sees the Father doing, and whatever the Father does the Son does too" (Jn 5:19). But this close relationship with God is not something we can earn, or plan for ourselves. It is God's miracle, God's doing. It is like the man in the parable, who scatters seed on the land. Night and day, while he sleeps or when he is awake, the seed is germinating, sprouting, growing. But how, he does not know. Concealment, we might even say, is the way God's glory is revealed in the world. So for the people of Nazareth, Jesus would remain just "the carpenter;" while it was only through the mystery of the resurrection that the light of Christ's true identity was revealed to his chosen disciples.
So it was too with many of the great saints, who strove to remain always close to God, "in loving attentive expectancy," said St John of the Cross. These words could also describe the short life of another great Carmelite saint. Therese of the Child Jesus died at the age of 24, after nine years in her Convent at Lisieux. Very few people took notice. According to her sister Pauline, several of the nuns even said that Teresa had achieved nothing during her time as a Carmelite. Yet within less than thirty years she had been canonised a saint before a huge throng in St Peter's Square in Rome. Two years later, Teresa Martin who had never once left her convent was proclaimed Patroness of the Foreign Missions. How did this come about? Reflecting on St Paul's assertion that there are three virtues which endure, faith, hope and love, and the greatest of these is love, Teresa saw her mission in life. "In the heart of my mother, the Church," she said, "I shall be love." And in the concealment of her convent God's glory was to be revealed in a special way before the whole world.