Sometimes there are readings from the lectionary that come up
which are so good and clear, that it might actually be advisable for the
preacher just to read it; shut up; then quietly pack things up and go home.
Our reading from the Epistle of James is exactly like this.
In fact, the whole epistle is pretty good, and if it were published just on its
own, it could be used as a guidebook for how people of faith should live. Of
course, Martin Luther didn’t much care for it, because it seems to deny the
idea that we are justified by faith rather than works.
However, I think more
rightly that it offers us an understanding of the necessity for works that
speak of a life transformed by faith.
Anyway, the letter draws from the earliest known teachings of
Jesus’, which helps scholars to date it at least before 70 CE. So what we’re
reading is not simply an interpretation of what Jesus taught, but likely even
the result of practical experience with Jesus.
Its style relies on a deep love of the Law and tradition, as
well as draws the ethereal and spiritual into the daily and the practical;
making it very instructional for the young Christian community of the First
Century.
James, the apparent author, was certainly well known to the
early followers of Jesus—in fact, he was the one who officiated the Jerusalem
council that we read about in the Acts of the Apostles. This was when the
Apostles were trying to figure out what to do with all of us Gentiles who were
coming into this new faith in Jesus…
James was also respected as a leader in the Early Church, and
we see this in the way that Peter shows deference to him at the Jerusalem
council.
This James isn’t to be confused with the brother of John, our
patron. However, as to what James means about being the brother of Jesus…well,
there are a whole slew of speculations including James being the son of Joseph
from a previous marriage; James being a close relative to Jesus’ earthly
family; or most likely James was the son of Mary and Joseph, making he and
Jesus brothers.
Now, for those of you who were hoping that I would pack up
and go home at this point; I fear you’ll be disappointed. Because, perhaps
against my better judgment, I do plan to speak a bit about this reading…sorry.
Anyway, James begins the passage by making it clear that acts
of generosity are not simple things, because they come down from God, the
father of stars and angels, whose light never fades like other heavenly bodies.
And this is set against an earlier statement about how temptation and sin lead
to destruction and death.
He then goes on to say that by God we’re given birth through
the word—meaning not only the birth of humanity through God’s creative word,
but also the rebirth that we’re given through Jesus Christ as the Incarnate
Word of God.
Now all of this may sound lovely and transcendent, but what
follows makes it very clear that all of this (while it may not seem practical)
no less has practical implications for how we’re to behave.
James says, you must be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow
to anger…even for those of us who enjoy ‘righteous anger’ it’s hard to argue
with the sense of that.
But he says, we’re to rid ourselves of sordidness and rank
growth of wickedness—I think he forgot to add that this is also expected in
election years. Instead, we’re to welcome with meekness the implanted word that
has the power to save our souls.
Finally, we’re told to “be doers of the word, and not merely
hearers who deceive themselves…if any are hearers and not doers, they are like
those who look at themselves in a mirror…and, on going away, immediately forget
what they were like.”
The point is that it’s not enough to claim some deep
ontological change in our lives—there has to be evidence, or incarnation of
that change. Simply put, if we claim a faith that challenges and changes us,
our lives and actions should show it.
Those of us clergy who sit around and talk about how
Christianity is changing, and mourn the decline of mainline denominations are
mistaken when we pretend that we don’t know why. We’ve spent decades resting on
laurels and being the churches of society. We’ve taken credit for the work of a
few who were part of the work of the Underground Railroad; we’ve hung pictures
of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in prominent places in our churches, and
claimed a piece of the Civil Rights Movement.
While that is and has been necessary—it hasn’t been a unified
effort. In fact, there were times when it was hard to tell which side the
church was fighting for…
But now we’re suddenly surprised that people aren’t joining
us in our mission. We’re offended that people point to the Church and talk
about hypocrisy (an allegation that I find very unfair—especially when there’s
always room for one more hypocrite).
The argument of James, however, is not that we are not
justified by our faith—rather that our faith is evidenced in our action. Ours
as a true and lively faith is one that continually calls us to action in the
world—action not of social justice (only) or any other charged term—but action
that is defined as Christian charity; our duty to God; our continued
participation in Christ’s redemption of the world; and above all faithfulness
to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
And while some of these acts of faith look like social
justice, I can assure you that they are a different thing, because they are
acts which are the effulgence of a life marked and changed by faith. These acts
are responses to a grateful reception of unconditional love, and the promise of
new life. Simply put, we give and work because we have received and are
beneficiaries of Jesus’ mercy. In this way, none of us can claim a right to
terms, nor can we boast about our adherence to a particular aspect of the
Gospel.
We’re not allowed to call our good works prophetic, or glory
in the good work that we do for the sake of more membership. Because, the
beauty of a reading like this is that it leaves vacuous holes in our
self-righteousness. It reminds us that we cannot be people of faith in name
only—that by the Incarnational nature of our religion we cannot exist with
integrity if we are not actively living as the hands and feet of Jesus Christ
in the world.
Now, the Epistle of James shouldn’t make us feel bad about
ourselves. We shouldn’t feel like we’ve neglected our call to Christian faith.
Instead, we should see it for what it is—an admonition—the shot in the arm that
the whole Church needs to be faithful in her mission as Christ’s Body. This is
a reminder and an opportunity to dust off our talents and gifts and put them to
work for the sake of the Kingdom of God. And it’s in fidelity to our Baptismal
call, and our identity as those born of the word of truth that we can begin to
show the meaning and reality of that gift by our actions—actions that are not
only our gifts of generosity, but are gifts given by God.
As much as it may have been advisable for me to have shut up
earlier; I have to admit that the Epistle of James honestly started something
in me. It started a deep sense of longing to see this parish work toward its
full potential. It made me see that many of the right things are in place for us to be an essential and vibrant part of
this community and our diocese. But what it will require is that none of us
only hears readings like this one from James, and does nothing. Instead, we
have to hear it, let it reflect our true selves, and be inspired by it. That
word inspired (for all that it gets over-used) is exactly the right one here,
because its etymology refers to being breathed into—just like the breath of God
that turned molded clay into a living being in Genesis. It’s like the breath of
life called by Ezekiel from the four winds that brought a valley of dry bones
to life again. And it’s the same inspiration—the same God of life breathing
into us now through his word. (Breathe in/breathe out)
But having heard this word, and breathing the breath of life,
will we walk away and forget? The choice is ours, I suppose.
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