Being Light and Salt After the Death of Renée Good

Today’s reflection is by Bondings 2.0 contributor Yunuen Trujillo.

Today’s liturgical readings for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time can be found here.

On January 7, 2026, the world witnessed the killing of Renée Nicole Good at the hands of federal agents in Minneapolis. As is often the case after controversial events, people immediately began taking sides—those who claimed it was self-defense and those who believed the killing was unjustified.

Renée

In one of the videos, a woman’s voice can be heard crying, “That is my wife. You guys just killed my wife.”

Within hours of the incident, a character-assassination campaign began. In some media outlets, Renée was described as a loving mother; in others, she was reduced to being described as a lesbian.

Fox News host Jesse Watters fixated on Good’s personal background, referring to her as a “self-proclaimed poet… with pronouns in her bio,” and adding that “The Daily Mail says she leaves behind a lesbian partner and a child from a previous marriage.”

Somehow, the fact that she was queer and that she used pronouns was treated as a reason to make her less relatable. And in making her less relatable, the goal was clear: to discourage people from seeing themselves in her, to blunt outrage, and ultimately, to kill empathy.

Today’s Gospel calls us to be “salt of the earth” and “light of the world.”
So what does it mean to be light and salt in times like these?

We find some clues in today’s reading from Isaiah:

Thus says the LORD:
Share your bread with the hungry,
shelter the oppressed and the homeless;
clothe the naked when you see them,
and do not turn your back on your own. . .
If you remove from your midst oppression,
false accusation, and malicious speech;
if you bestow your bread on the hungry
and satisfy the afflicted;
then light shall rise for you in the darkness.

In Scripture, being light is often equated with bringing justice into the world. Being light is not an individualistic endeavor. By its very nature, light affects its surroundings. When light is present, darkness does not coexist comfortably—it is exposed and pushed back. Light, by definition, is communal. If it exists, it illuminates for all. It does not exist merely for the sake of the self. It does not exist just to be admired at the top of a hill, but to dissipate darkness all around it.

Being salt, on the other hand, can be harder to grasp. Today’s Gospel reminds us that salt gives flavor to life—but it also does more than that. Among the historical functions of salt in the ancient world was preservation. Salt prevents decay by preserving meat and fish. To be salt, then, is to refuse blandness and to preserve love by resisting social decay and moral numbness. It is a call to resist neutrality in the face of suffering. God’s people are meant to slow down moral and social decay, to resist corruption, and to stand in the gap when injustice, violence, and dehumanization threaten to become normalized.

Queerness is often accompanied by experiences of vulnerability and marginalization. If we are to be light and salt in the world, we must understand that every wound we have suffered can become a doorway into compassion. Our wounds teach us how to be hospitable to the wounds of others—especially those who are different from us and also marginalized. Renée Nicole Good knew this, and she showed up, shining her light and standing with those who were targets of violence.

Ultimately, we must understand that in times like these, we cannot afford to sit on the sidelines. The force and violence used against any one group eventually makes its way to all who are marginalized. Violence and dehumanization spread like a virus that, if not stopped, makes us all targets.

Last but not least, salt is also used for another purpose: it melts ice. May our solidarity with one another melt the frozen hearts of those who have chosen to identify with power and whose hearts have grown distant from empathy.

The future, I believe, is one of hope. We are increasing our light with every passing day. We are refusing to turn our backs on one another. 

May our solidarity be like salt on frozen ground — softening hardened hearts, breaking through indifference, and opening pathways for compassion to flow. May we continue to walk as light in the world, not shrinking from truth, not abandoning the vulnerable or each other, but standing boldly for justice and mercy.

In these times, let us reject fear and embrace courage. Let us choose empathy over apathy, presence over passivity, and love over division. For when we become light and salt, we do not merely witness hope — we are it.

Yunuen Trujillo, February 8, 2026