The Book of James is one of those short
bits of writing tucked away toward the end of the New Testament part of the
Bible. It comes after the four Gospels that
narrate Jesus’ life and ministry (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John). It comes after the letters that the Apostle
Paul wrote to nascent and often struggling early Christian communities like the
ones in Corinth and Galatia. It comes
after the letter he wrote to the large urban church in Rome where he sets forth
what will become, over time, wide-spread and then orthodox Christian systematic
theology.
German cleric Martin Luther, the “go
to” guy when it comes to Protestantism, did not like the Book of James very
much. He called it an “Epistle of Straw”
with “nothing of the nature of the Gospel about it.” Luther was probably down
on the Book of James because it was so unlike the writings of Paul, whom he
deeply admired and in whom he grounded his own theology.
It is
true that the Book of James is not theologically deep like some of Paul’s
letters and is instead pre-eminently down-to-earth and practical. It is also true that James does not mention
Jesus even once in his letter.
However,
we ought to remember that James wrote to a faith community made up of baptized
believers, people who were already familiar with Jesus and his story. As
Presbyterian pastor Jenny McDivett notes, “the letter was written not to bring
its readers to faith, then, but to advise its readers on how to live out the
faith they already had.”
Maybe Martin Luther had forgotten some
of those exegetical finer points. I do
not know. However, much as I admire
Martin Luther, I would beg to differ with him in his negative assessment of the
Book of James. I think this brief and down-to-earth
letter offers important ideas for us to consider. It is chock full of sermon material! Where to start? What to focus on?
James
probably wrote the letter to a first century congregation rife with bitterness,
backbiting, and polarization, a faith community trying to figure out its place
in the ancient pagan world. And twenty
centuries later, the Book of James still offers us solid advice on what it
means to live a Christian life in a cynical and hurting world and what the
church ought to be all about if it is to call itself the church.
Presbyterian
pastor Marci Glass reminds us that “James tells us
we are to ‘be not hearers who
forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing.’ Which means we aren’t
supposed to just listen to the reading of the scripture, hear the teachings of
the church, say ‘isn’t that nice’, and then go back to what we were doing
before we heard the good news.
We
are supposed to live out our faith in
our actions. Which is not the same as saying we are to earn our faith with
our actions. We don’t earn our faith because we do good deeds. Instead, our
faith is the gift of God, and our lives are the response” to that gift.
In these verses we just read, James labels
us – you and me – as the “first fruits” of God’s creation. What he means is
that we – you and I – are like an offering.
The terminology “first fruits” harkens back to a Hebrew agricultural
society. When the harvest was collected,
peasant farmers brought a portion of the very best of it to the temple where it
was offered to Yahweh/God in gratitude and thanksgiving.
Glass goes on to say that “in this passage, however, God offers us as first
fruits. We are the gift that is shared, signifying abundance and provision.” God
has offered us – you and me – as gifts to the world God created and
loved. We are a sacred
offering. We are God’s offering
to a cynical and hurting world.
How
powerful is that! Think about it. What
if we first saw our lives as gifts? What if we became “doers” of the word not
because we had to, not because we would somehow be assured of going to heaven
(whatever that means), but what if we became doers of the word simply in
response to what we had known and experienced as God’s love?
What would that paradigm shift – that simple change in
perspective - mean for us as individuals who call ourselves Christian and for
us as the church?
A man was hired to paint the lines on the
highway that divide the lanes. Now the company did not have a lot of resources,
so he had to do his painting on foot. After the first day at work his
supervisor was very impressed when he learned that this new employee had
painted three miles’ worth of lines.
Unfortunately, the next day the results were not quite
as impressive. He was only able to extend the lines for two miles. The third
day he only painted less than one mile of lines.
The supervisor went from being impressed to being
concerned. The new employee’s performance was now not acceptable. He called him
into him into his office and said, "I’ am going to have to let you
go."
The employee dropped his head and got up to leave. As
he was going out the door he turned and said, "It’ is not my fault, you
know. I have never worked so hard in all my life. It is just that the paint
bucket keeps getting further and further away."
On this Labor Day Sunday, maybe this story should serve
to remind us of our tendency as Christians to work so hard, but not necessarily
so effectively, James is not suggesting
that we work harder. He is advising us
to be more faithful to the real work to which we are called.
And
James tells us openly what that “real work” is.
It is “to care for orphans and widows in their distress,
and to keep oneself unstained by the world.”
“Widows and orphans” is ancient world shorthand for creative compassion,
for a strong commitment to “social justice”, that uncomfortable and fraught term unfortunately
associated with the liberal left. And keeping oneself unstained by the
world? That is not easy when the world
is constantly staining us with its cynicism, hopelessness, and apathy.
Yet, for James, taking what we hear on Sunday
morning and translating it into positive action the other six days of the week
is the litmus test of Christian commitment for everyone – young and old, tired and energetic, liberal and
conservative. Sunday – and Sunday
worship - is not the climax, apex, or “be all end all” of the Christian
week.
Sunday – and Sunday worship - is important, to be
sure, because it supports our Christian lives for the rest of the week. It is
like vocational training for Monday through Saturday. It is our time to gather as a faith community
to rejoice in the sacred love we have experienced and to ponder what it means
to be God’s first fruits offering to the world.
Sunday worship energizes and inspires us – or, at least, it should.
The Book of James sets forth a powerful message
indeed. As Baptist pastor Peter Rhea Jones has noted,
this letter “could actually bring off a renewing of the Christian life. There
will be a recurring temptation to tame the powerful social message of this
flaming letter, to domesticate it and calm its biting, all too relevant message
into palatable terms. If this message of James is allowed to go out unmuffled,
it will rattle the stained glass windows.”
After
many years in ministry and thousands of hours thinking about and talking about
the decline of moderate churches like ours, I have come to believe that
focusing our energy on filling the pews on Sunday morning so we can be like the
church in the 1950’s and 1960’s where all the men were engaged and all the
women wore hats and all the children were above average when it came to their
behavior is certainly working harder but not working effectively.
James
tells us flat out that, as one blogger I read this week wrote, “True religion moves
us to action.” (In other words,) we don’t just see the need
and then walk away after saying a few good words (about it on Sunday morning). Bob Rowland pictures the problem in his poem
“Listen, Christian!”:
I was hungry
And
you formed a humanities club
And
discussed my hunger.
Thank
you.
I was imprisoned
And
you crept off quietly
To
your chapel in the cellar
And
prayed for my release.
And
in your mind
You
debated the morality
Of
my appearance.
I was sick
And
you knelt and thanked God
For
your health.
I was homeless
And
you preached to me
Of
the spiritual shelter
Of
the Love of God.
I was lonely
And
you left me alone
to
pray for me.
You seem so holy;
So
close to God.
But
I’m still very hungry.
We can
never substitute another church service or even more Bible reading for rolling
up our sleeves and getting involved in this hurting world. True religion sees
the distress of the world and then moves to meet that need.”
Folks
will first seriously check out Sunday worship here because they have witnessed
us – you and me – being more than hearers of the word, to use James’
terminology. They will be intrigued by
what goes on here on Sunday mornings because they have seen us – you and me – being
doers of the word. They will have witnessed
us Monday through Saturday living authentically and meaningfully as we care for
the widows and orphans (those in need) here in Raymond, in Maine, and
throughout the world.
They
will see us as the church who sends a team to Maine Seacoast Mission to rehab
trailers. They will see us as the faith
community who supports efforts to bridge the political divide like the
Makeshift Coffee House. They will see us as the church who started the Random
Acts of Kindness Grant Program. They will see us as the church that openly
questions what it is that will make American great again.
And if we are to survive and thrive as a
church, they will see us actively seeking to figure out what the needs are
right here in Raymond and doing our best to intentionally meet those needs. And if we are to survive and thrive as a
church, they will see us as a congregation whose efforts to transform the world
around us go far beyond five pot roast suppers, as a congregation whose primary
commitment is to something more profound than great music on Sunday morning, as
a congregation whose values are grounded in love and thanksgiving. If we are to survive and thrive as a church,
they will see us as a people not prone to judging others and not content to live
our lives as if the Gospel message was an afterthought or a pretty low
priority. Instead they will see us as a
people of great high hope.
And
when they wonder why we live with such hope in such an embattled world, we will
tell them it is because that is who we are as the Raymond Village Community
Church (United Church of Christ). That
is my prayer anyway – and that is also what keeps me up at night as your
pastor. Can we be doers of the word and
not just hearers of the word? Do we want
to be doers of the word and not just hearers of the word? Does James’ message
resonate enough with us to make that critical paradigm shift that causes us to
focus less on Sunday and more on Monday through Saturday? Does James’ message resonate in that
way – or is it just an “Epistle of Straw”?
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