In the letter of James we read: “But be doers of the word, and not
merely hearers, who deceive themselves.”
I don’t know if you are aware of it, but this
is a rather famous biblical passage, to the extent that any biblical passage is
famous. It’s famous first,
because it sums up the point of the Letter of James–that our faith is not, in
its fullest sense, simply something that we hold as special or sacred in our
hearts, but rather that our faith, when it is lived to the full, also directs
our lives, it shapes who we are and what we do. But you know, it might be just as
right to say that this biblical passage is infamous, because throughout
Christian history there have been those who have questioned whether the Letter
of James is worthy of its place in the Bible. You may not have known that there
are controversial books of the Bible, but there are, and we are hearing from
two of them this morning–The Song of Solomon and the Letter of
James. Tradition states that the Letter of James was written by Jesus'
brother, James of Jerusalem, but we don't know that for certain.
Chief among critics of both of these books was
the reformer Martin Luther, who called James “a right strawy epistle,” meaning
that like straw it had no real substance or nourishment for the Christian soul,
since it places emphasis more on the work we do and the way we live our lives,
than what it is that we believe about God, or Jesus, and the work that Jesus
has done for us to bring us salvation. Luther,
and those following him, primarily in Protestant circles, have believed that
the teachings in the Letter of James lead too easily to the idea that we can be
saved by our works–rather than by the grace of God given us in Jesus
Christ. For Christians of
this school of thought, our salvation comes not by what we do–by being good
people, by striving hard, by living perfect or near perfect lives–but instead
in trusting that somehow, in some mysterious way, God’s love, care, and
forgiveness is held out to us, even though we sin, even though we fail, even
though our lives are far from perfect.
Of course the trouble is that it has been easy
for Christians to get stuck making one or the other argument–that we are saved
by God’s grace alone or that we are saved, at least in part, by what we
do. Unfortunately, when we
do that, when we get stuck on one side or the other, we lose sight of the great
mystery of a faith that is both believed and lived, simultaneously. Several years ago I recall reading
that Hillary Clinton stated that her favorite book of the Bible is
James–because of its emphasis on social justice, on living the word, doing the
word, as our reading says this morning. Then,
shortly thereafter, I read an editorial in a magazine called The Christian Century, in which
the magazine’s editor Martin Marty–a theologian and church
historian--criticized Clinton’s choice, since James is, as Martin Luther
suggests, “the Epistle of Straw.”
While it is true that the Letter of James does
not have the same theological depth or substance as Romans or Ephesians, I
actually think that it compliments these weightier books rather well in the way
that it calls us both to be hearers and also doers of God’s word. It
calls us to be healers and reconcilers, to build up and set free. We don’t do that work because it will
earn us salvation, a place in heaven or a place in God’s heart, those are
already promised to us, but because we want others to know that we care for
them, and especially that God cares for them. It’s because we believe in the
promises of the gospel that we want to share them and act upon them, to be
co-workers with God in bringing health and wholeness, new hope and new life to
those around us.
I hope that we all know that faith, at its
best, at its most vibrant, is something that shapes the whole of our lives, not
just what we do for an hour on Sunday mornings. At its fullest, faith, and in
particular the Christian faith, as the Letter of James suggests, has the power
permeate the whole of our being and direct everything about us, including our
values--what we do with our money, the risks we take, how we treat
people. I talk about that a
lot in baptismal preparation classes. How
the faith that we are baptized into is not a one-day affair, but an every day
affair. They are not Sunday
promises, but every day promises: to seek and serve Christ is all people, to
love our neighbors as ourselves, to strive for justice and peace and respect
the dignity of every human being.
This sermon comes on the weekend between our
country’s two big political conventions. The Republicans and Mitt Romney had
their party last week and laid out their vision for the nation, and next week
it will be President Obama and the Democrats’ turn. As ever, there’s a lot of big talk,
some insults, distortions of each others' records and proposals, alongside the
balloons, inspiring biographies, and more positive proposals and
promises. I’m sort of a
political junkie, so it gets me excited, even when I am hearing speeches that I
don’t agree with. I
inherited that from my dad, I think, who was likewise really into politics and
conventions. Because it’s a
holiday weekend, I am going to step a little into the political fray, which I
don’t usually do in sermons, and I promise to try not to offend or alienate
anyone, since I know that here at Emmanuel all political views and parties are
represented, which by the way, is how it should be. We should be a church
in which all are welcome and included, in which there are "no
outcasts."
My introduction to politics came very early,
indeed. Just four days after I was born in November of 1972, as my
parents were heading home from the hospital with little baby me, they made
their first stop at the polls on election day to vote for president: for none
other than George McGovern (the last time Minnesota went Republican in a
presidential election). Living
in Minnesota, my parents were also big supporters of Hubert Humphrey and Walter
Mondale. (One certainly can’t say that they only supported the
winners!) Somewhere in my
old bedroom closet we even have a signed portrait of Hubert Humphrey addressed
to my father, and when I was 11 I bought my first piece of campaign propaganda
at the Minnesota State Fair, just about this time of year some 28 years ago: an
extraordinarily large Walter Mondale-Geraldine Ferraro button. My parents did not buy it for me or
put me up to it. I paid for
it all on my own. It was my
prize possession: it had their pictures on it and I proudly, boldly wore it
absolutely everywhere. Although,
I do remember covering the button up at the State Fair, just after I bought it,
when I shook hands with one of our senators who was a Republican. I guess I
didn’t want to offend him. Being
from Minnesota, Mondale’s home state, I was convinced that Mondale couldn’t
lose!
Of course, in the end Walter Mondale lost to
Ronald Reagan in one of the biggest landslides ever, only winning Minnesota and
Washington, DC. Even
Massachusetts voted Republican that year! Mondale actually did better in the nationwide
popular vote than McGovern in 1972 (who only won Massachusetts), but Mondale
got fewer electoral votes. Ever
since then, I have been deeply interested in politics and government, so much
so that alongside my college majors in religion and Scandinavian Studies, I did
a minor in political science. I
had wanted to major in that, too, but I didn’t have enough electives to allow
for a triple major without staying an extra year.
You know, as exciting (and frustrating) as
election season can be, hopefully underneath all the promises and mud slinging
is also a desire on all sides to make our country a better, stronger, and
healthier place. In
watching the Republican Convention this past week I was quite touched in
learning some personal things about Mitt Romney that I hadn’t known, even
though he was governor here. For
example, the way he, as a Mormon bishop (like a lay pastor), lovingly cared for
his fellow church members when they were in need. While those stories were obviously
added to his narrative to soften his image away from that of a shrewd
millionaire businessman, what they also did for me is show how Romney, like
Hillary Clinton, has at the center of his being the desire expressed in the
Letter of James, not only to be a hearer of the word, but also a doer. I was pleased to know that he seeks to
translate his faith into deeds that can improve the lives of others. And, of course, by extrapolation, the
hope is that he would do the same as president, if he were elected, not only
for the people of his church, but the people of our nation, through his
leadership. You don’t
necessarily have to agree with his political positions to be inspired by his
faith and the impact it has had on his life and the life of those around
him.
When you think about it, our country and our
national political discourse would be a lot stronger, a lot healthier, if our
leaders were able to recognize the various ways that their opponents are
inspired by their faith to make society better —whether that’s a religious faith
in God or a less religious, but still strong faith in the human
community. For example, I
would really love it if President Obama and the Democrats were to say, "We
understand why Romney and the Republicans advocate lower taxes and less
government, because they believe that it can lead to a more robust environment
for business and job creation, which will help people in the long
run." Or if
Republicans were willing to say, "We understand why Obama and the
Democrats favor a national health care plan, because we know that deep in their
hearts they want to help the people of our nation to be healthier and live
better lives, whatever their economic or social status."
It doesn’t mean that they have to agree with
each other’s policy proposals, but it would mean, I think, that they would
begin their debates and conversations in a spirit of greater respect, and not
only that, but also that they would understand that behind the policy proposals
are, in fact, positive motivations that are intended to help improve the life
of our nation, and most especially the lives of individuals within our
nation. That is not a
Democratic or Republican desire. It
is, I hope, a human desire. Most
certainly it is a Christian desire.
Most of us will not have the opportunity to
serve as governor, senator, secretary of state, or president. Probably we will not be given the
privilege and the responsibility of crafting laws that can change the lives of
millions of people. So, our
areas of influence are much more modest. But that doesn’t mean that we, too, in
our own communities, in our own ways, can’t also be inspired by James’ call to
be not only hearers of the word, but also doers, whether we are liberal
Democrats or conservative Republicans, or anything in between.
Touching the lives of others. Bringing comfort where there is
sorrow. Bringing hope where
there is despair. Working to liberate those suffering under oppression. Making lives better. You know, the name of this
church–Emmanuel–means God with us. I
don’t think that this presence, God’s presence, is simply limited to our hearts
and souls; rather, at its best it radiates out from there and extends also to
our hands and our feet, empowering us to bring God to others, to make God’s
presence known and felt throughout the world, where ever we go. So that all of God’s people may be
blessed and healed and set free.
To God be the glory: Father, Son, and Holy
Spirit. Amen.
© The Rev. Matthew P. Cadwell
