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Beloved,
A Little Salt Goes a Long Way
In the days leading up to the end of 2025 and the first days of 2026, I have been sitting with the daily reflections from the Center for Action and Contemplation and the ministry we share at St. Luke’s. Margaret Feinberg's reflection published for January 1, 2026, really got me thinking and praying about my role as your interim rector, and the nature of "the grain of salt" I need to bring forward in the time I have left to serve you.
I have posted a copy of Margret's reflection for January 1st in the box below this message. Reading her entry should give you some context that will be helpful in understading what's on my heart and mind as we begin this New Year.
Jesus says, “Salt is good …” and then he reminds us that salt only matters when it does what salt is meant to do: bring flavor, preserve what is good, and help new life take hold.
Margaret Feinberg describes Jesus calling us to be “salty fertilizer,” not in comfortable places, but often in situations that can feel awkward, resistant, or tired. Places where old habits linger. Places where change feels threatening. Places where it might be easier to withdraw or resist than to stay engaged.
That feels honest to me. I have experienced St. Luke’s as a congregation with a rich history, deep faith, real resilience, and many quiet acts of goodness. I have seen generosity, devotion, humor, and care here every week. And at the same time, I have seen some patterns of behavior that can weigh this church down: habits of complaint, suspicion, or criticism that leave little room for imagination or trust. Those habits are understandable. They usually grow out of loss, disappointment, or fear. But over time, those old ways of being can prevent a community from noticing new possibilities right in front of it.
The image that most moved me in her reflection was the idea that none of us is asked to do everything. Margaret points to a lesson the Talmud that suggests that if you can ease even 1/60 (one-sixtieth) of someone’s pain, that is goodness, and that call comes from God.
One-sixtieth.
Not fixing everything.
Not winning every argument.
Not carrying the whole church on your shoulders.
Just a grain of salt.
I’ve been asking myself: How can I be the best salt for this community right now and in the time I have left here? And the answer that keeps returning is this: by staying curious, creative, hopeful, loving, patient, and kind, by staying present and trusting that God is not finished with St. Luke’s or with me.
And perhaps the invitation for all of us is similar.
- What would change if, instead of asking what’s wrong, we asked what’s possible?
- Instead of guarding the past, we nurtured what wants to grow now?
- Instead of assuming resistance, we practiced listening to one another more deeply and without judgment?
- What if we could overcome the fear of change and muster the courage to take some risks and invest our time, talent, and treasre in new initiatives by reaching out to the community around us more intentionally that could inspire and energize us all and help this church to grow?
I like salt! And I believe a little salt sprinkled in the right places, at the right time, and in the right amount goes a long way. A grain of salt can be something as simple as a small shift in tone of voice in speaking to someone. It can be a generous question, a willingness to try something new, an act of kindness that eases even a fraction of another person’s burden. I believe small acts, such as these small grains of salt, are not small things in the kingdom of God.
So, as we move into the weeks ahead and the time we have left together, I invite you to join me in praying this simple prayer. Pray it for me, for yourself, and for this church:
God, show me where my grain of salt is needed. And give me the wisdom, the strength, the capicity, and the courage to offer it.
Faithfully,
John +
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