I love metaphors. I love the meaning they create. I love the dissonance they generate. I love how our imagination goes in a multitude of directions that our logical minds might not explore. All because of metaphors.
Metaphors are a powerful way to explore meaning. They comfort and challenge us while pushing our imaginations to places we might not otherwise go. Metaphors can offer healing and vision, or they can haunt us with stark reflections of reality.
Ginny Brown Daniel
In sacred texts, metaphors abound, both intended and unintended, to deepen our awareness and challenge us to more fully live into who we are created to be. Matthew 5:14–16, is no different: “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.”
The language of light inspires. It reminds us of our purpose to shine God’s presence into the world without hesitation. Yet it also confronts us. A city on a hill can’t be hidden, and this image can take on an unsettling resonance, especially when we think of recent devastating wildfires in Los Angeles. These fires, visible for miles, force us to wrestle with the meaning of light and fire amid suffering and destruction.
Jesus’ aphorisms — short, impactful sayings — invite us to reflect on such questions. The Gospel of Matthew situates these words in the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus, speaking to a crowd from a hillside, declares, “You are the light of the world.” This statement was not merely sweet or comforting. In Jesus’ context, where political and religious powers oppressed the people, it was revolutionary.
“Jesus didn’t attach conditions to this declaration.”
Jesus didn’t attach conditions to this declaration. He didn’t say, “If you believe the right way, then you are the light of the world,” or “If you come from the right background, then you are the light of the world.” No. He said, “You — all y’all (in my purest Southern drawl) — are the light of the world.” This was a profoundly liberating message for a society steeped in hierarchy and exclusion.
The image of light carried deep theological significance for Jesus’ listeners. In the Hebrew Scriptures, light symbolized God’s presence, as in the burning bush speaking to Moses. When Jesus spoke of light, he tapped into this rich tradition, connecting God’s presence to ordinary people.
Jesus extended the metaphor by comparing the people’s light to a city on a hill. The city is unmissable, visible to everyone. The Gospel of Thomas adds, “A city built and fortified on a mountain top cannot fall, but neither can it be hidden.” This visibility is both an opportunity and a challenge. It invites us to let our light shine but also reminds us that our actions, good or bad, are on full display.
This metaphor has taken on layers of meaning over the centuries. In the 17th century, John Winthrop, a Puritan leader, used the “city on a hill” image in a sermon. Hear Winthrop’s own words from his 1630 sermon:
For we must consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill. The eyes of all people are upon us. So that if we shall deal falsely with our God in this work we have undertaken and so cause (God) to withdraw (God’s) present help from us, we shall be made a story and a byword through the world.
Winthrop’s message was a warning: If the community acted immorally, it would be judged by the world. Yet, in modern times, figures like President Ronald Reagan reframed the metaphor as a symbol of American exceptionalism, turning a warning into a boast.
“President Ronald Reagan reframed the metaphor as a symbol of American exceptionalism.”
Winthrop’s original intent resonates today as we reflect on our national and global witness. Are we seen as a beacon of justice and compassion, or do our inequities and failures shine just as brightly?
This question feels particularly urgent in light of ongoing political, environmental and social challenges. The call to let our light shine is not abstract. It is lived out in tangible acts of love, justice and service.
In the wake of California wildfires, we have seen examples of this light: neighbors rescuing the vulnerable, communities providing shelter and supplies, strangers offering comfort. These acts of generosity and solidarity are the city on a hill — a light that cannot be hidden even amid destruction.
As we navigate a world fraught with division, injustice and uncertainty — especially in the future presidential administration — Jesus’ words challenge us: “You are the light of the world.”
This light reflects God’s image in every person. It calls us to dismantle systems of oppression, confront our own biases and create spaces where dignity and respect flourish. It is a light of hope and resistance against evil — a light that refuses to be hidden.
In moments of despair, we return to the simple yet profound words of the children’s verse of our beloved spiritual: “Hide it under a bushel? NO! I’m gonna let it shine.”
May this be our anthem as we work to build God’s beloved community through the next four years. May we shine with the light of God’s justice, love and peace — today and always.
Ginny Brown Daniel is an ordained minister who is a keynote speaker and writes on faith and politics in Texas. Visit her website at www.ginnybd.com.
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