James 2:1-10, 14-17
Presented September 10th, 2006, by J.D. Kline
The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
The story is told of a wise rabbi who once asked his students how they could tell when night had ended and day was on its way back. “Is it when you can see an animal in the distance, and can tell whether it is a sheep or a dog?” asked one student. “No,” responded the rabbi. “Is it when you can look at a tree in the distance, and tell whether it is a fig tree or a peach tree?’ asked another. “No,” the rabbi answered again. “Well, then,” demanded the students, “when is it?” “It is when you look on the face of another human being and see that he or she is your brother or sister. Because if you cannot do that, then no matter what time of day it is, it is still night for you.”
At its heart, the gospel proclaimed by Jesus is all about coming to see as we’ve never seen before, learning to experience life in new and fresh ways. In his book The Call to Conversion Jim Wallis puts it this way:
Faith opens us to the future by restoring our sight, softening our hearts, bringing light into our darkness. We are converted to compassion, justice and peace as we take our stand as citizens of Christ’s new order. We see, hear and feel now as never before.
This new way of seeing, hearing, and experiencing life comes as we embrace a new reality. And what is the shape of this new reality? Life with God at the center. Life in which we affirm that we are loved by a love that will not let us go. But it is not a love to be held to ourselves; rather, it is a love to be lived and to be shared. As the wise rabbi suggests, it is a matter of living fully in the light of day, coming to see others as bearing the very image of God, of being our sisters and brothers.
There are some Christian groups so focused on matters of life after death that they overlook a key truth of the gospel—that Jesus came to proclaim, to model, to embody a new way of living, here and now. Jesus, it seems to me, was far more concerned about the quality of life before death than he was with questions about life after death. When Jesus pointed to the promise of eternal life, he was urging us to see and experience life from a new perspective, to begin living now as if the kingdom of God were fully here. It is an invitation to experience now a life of compassion and self-giving love, grace and mercy, forgiveness and service and peace. And when we do, issues of life after death will take care of themselves.
The letter of James carries a similar focus, with the writer reminding us that “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead” (2:17). In The Message Eugene Peterson has the writer of James questioning, “Isn’t it obvious that God-talk without God-acts is outrageous nonsense?”
In John’s Gospel, following the events in the Upper Room where Jesus washes the feet of the disciples and urges them to follow the example he has set, Jesus goes on to speak of something new. “I give you a new commandment,” says Jesus, “that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:34-35). Notice that Jesus does not say, “Love me as I have loved you.” That would make sense in our tit-for-tat kind of world, our “you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours” way of doing things. But Jesus instead challenges us to move beyond self-centeredness, to reach out beyond ourselves. Jesus reminds us that love of God and love for neighbor are inseparable.
James makes the same point in today’s lesson, when he writes of the dangers of showing partiality based simply on outward appearance. Again and again, through encounters and parables, Jesus underscores a particular concern for the poor. Yet it does not take the church long to begin to move in the opposite direction. “If a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly,” asserts James, “and if a poor person also comes in, and you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, ‘Have a seat here, please,’ while to the one who is poor you say, ‘Stand there,’ or ‘Sit at my feet,’ have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?” (2:2-4).
Yet today, we find it tempting—don’t we?—to want to decide who’s in and who’s out. Economic status continues to divide the church, but it is not the only division. In some parts of the church, women are barred from using their gifts fully in ministry. We continue to be deeply divided along racial and ethnic lines, and all too many would suggest that there is no place in the life of the church for gays and lesbians. Is it not time for us to heed the affirmation of James that follows this passage about the dangers of discrimination—the affirmation that “kind mercy wins over harsh judgment every time” (2:13, The Message)?
Some years ago Rebecca Manley Pippert wrote a book entitled Out of the Salt-Shaker and Into the World. She tells the story of a middle-class congregation in a university town that decided to work more intentionally at connecting with university students. They struggled some with how to do that, and decided that, at the very least, they could make students feel welcome in their Sunday morning worship services. About that time a brilliant young man named Bill, hair messy, dressed in ragged jeans, a T-shirt and bare feet, came to worship on a crowded Sunday morning. People in that respectable congregation looked a bit taken aback by Bill’s appearance, but no one said anything. Bill began walking down the center aisle of the sanctuary and, finding no empty spaces, continued to the very front, where he squatted down on the carpet. Perfectly acceptable behavior in a college dorm, but rather unnerving for this straight-laced congregation.
The mood in the worshiping community became uncomfortable and tense, as an elderly member began walking down the aisle toward the young man. Most assumed he was going to scold Bill for his unacceptable behavior, but when the elderly man arrived at the front of the sanctuary, with some difficulty he lowered himself and sat down next to Bill on the carpet, and the two of them worshiped together. According to the story, there was not a dry eye in the congregation. The straight-laced congregation was discovering the message James wants to impart, that the church is in the business of inclusion, not exclusion.
Our example is Jesus, who welcomes and affirms those who too often have been pushed to the margins of life, who is in the business of breaking down walls of separation and misunderstanding, who reminds us that we are called to love all manner of people. In a book based upon the letter of James entitled Finding Spiritual Direction, Douglas Webster describes life in Christ. Writes Webster, “Instead of sizing one another up we sacrifice for one another. Instead of maneuvering for the best possible advantage, we give ourselves to one another for the sake of Christ.” The church, asserts Webster, “should be a competition-free zone . . . . a welcome respite from the office pecking order, [from] the flattery of the world’s daily routine.”
All this demands that we see as we’ve never seen before, that we embrace the call to see Christ in others, that we allow our hearts to be softened by Christ’s compassion and we learn to bear Christ’s light in a world far more familiar with darkness, brokenness and fear. Brennan Manning reminds us that “every change in the quality of a person’s life must grow out of a change in his or her vision of reality.” As we embrace Christ’s vision for the world, we see as we’ve never seen before. As we choose the way of peace and nonviolence rather than the way of warfare and division, we see as we’ve never seen before. As we choose inclusion rather than exclusion, cooperation rather than competition, hope rather than despair, love rather than indifference, we see as we’ve never seen before.
Back in the Civil War days of this nation, Brethren, unlike many other Christian bodies, intentionally kept open lines of communication between the North and the South. John Kline, a Brethren minister and a physician, served as Annual Conference moderator during those years, and traveled thousands of miles on horseback, visiting congregations. A Virginian, John Kline not only visited churches in the North, but he also provided medical care for people on both sides. Because he saw things differently than did many around him, because he was utterly convinced that Christ calls us to be peacemakers rather than warriors, many looked upon John Kline with suspicion, even labeling him a traitor. Finally in June, 1864 John Kline was shot and killed near his home by several members of a Confederate militia.
Some fifteen years earlier, in response to a local celebration of George Washington’s birthday that included a salute with guns, Kline wrote these words in his diary:
I have a somewhat higher conception of true patriotism than can be represented by the firing of guns which give forth nothing but meaningless sound. I am glad, however, that these guns report harmless sound, and nothing more. If some public speakers would do the same, it might be better for them and for their hearers. My highest conception of patriotism is found in the [one] who loves the Lord his God with all his heart and his neighbor as himself. Out of these affections spring the subordinate love for one’s country; love truly virtuous for one’s companion and children, relatives and friends; and in its most comprehensive sense [it] takes in the whole human family. Were this love universal, the word patriotism, in its specific sense, meaning such a love for one’s country as makes its possessors ready and willing to take up arms in its defense, might be appropriately expunged from every national vocabulary.
As we approach the fifth anniversary of the horrendous events of September 11, 2001, it seems critical that the church’s response not simply mirror that of the culture around us. Instead, are we not called to grapple with what it means to embody the spirit of Christ, when others would suggest that the only response is suspicion and warfare? Are we not called to offer an alternative to the world around us, to consider what it means to look into the eyes of others, even those labeled as enemy, and see sisters and brothers? Are we not called to embrace a new way of seeing—seeing as we’ve never seen before?
Pastoral Prayer
Spirit of God, come with power among us. Breathe new life, new hope, new dreams into our hearts and spirits. Guide us as we seek to embrace the ways of Jesus—ways of compassion and peace, mercy and loving kindness, grace and self-giving love. O God, may your kingdom come, your will be done, here and now among us, even as it is in heaven. Give us our daily bread, and forgive us, Spirit of God, when we fall short of the vision you set before us. Forgive us, just as we seek to be forgiving of one another.
Around us—and all too frequently, within us—we hear competing voices, voices calling for vengeance rather than forgiveness, violence rather than a listening ear, suspicion rather than openness to the gifts of those who are different than are we. God of compassion and peace, forgive us and grant us courage to stand against those voices that would only create more brokenness and pain and division in our world. Spirit of God, teach us your ways of love and trusting kindness. Grant us hearts of servants, willing to go the extra mile in relationships, heeding your call to be ministers of reconciliation.
Gracious Spirit, hear us now as we pray for those who are suffering—for the poor, the homeless, those who are victims of oppressions, those bound by addictions, those grappling with grief and loss. And hear us, holy God, as we hold before you those in special need of your healing mercies . . .
Loving God, you who call us to be the church, to be your people, deliver us from evil as you challenge and inspire us to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly in your presence. We pray in the name and spirit of Christ Jesus our risen Lord. Amen.