From good deeds and other acts of “light” come healing, peace, and glory.

When I moved to the desert some years ago, my mother sent me an appropriate housewarming gift. It’s a little lamp molded at the base into an adobe-style house, with a matching lampshade bearing a pleasing Southwestern pattern. When you turn on the lamp, at first you get what’s expected: a wash of light under the lampshade.

“Let me tell you why you are here. You’re here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You’ve lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage.

When Beth unexpectedly inherited a large amount of money, she was scared. She had never managed such a sum before, and she was intimidated by the prospect of handling this responsibility correctly.

Bland. Not the most appealing trait. It sounds like a punishment: “Since you’ve worked yourself into an ulcer, you need to eat bland food for three months.”

My sister is discussing the significance of offering the sign of peace at Mass with the students in her catechism class. “Many times you are extending peace to people you know—friends and family. But often you are offering the gesture to a perfect stranger. That is a very powerful thing to do.”

Brothers and sisters, let us acknowledge our sins, and so prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries.

Be who you were created to be and you will set the world on fire!