Showing posts with label social critique. Show all posts
Showing posts with label social critique. Show all posts

Sunday, August 30, 2015

James! Finally!

Sermon at Transfiguration Church, Mesa
Year B, Proper 17


Have you ever spent time looking at pictures of yourself from 2 years ago?  5 years ago? 10 years ago? Longer?  What comes to mind for you as you look at those pictures?  Is there some surprise about yourself?  Perhaps you can remember the dreams you had for yourself or those close to you when the picture was taken.  Perhaps you remember the hopes that turned out to be dashed. The hopes that should never have been hopes in the first place. The forgotten dreams that brings regret once remembered. The fulfilled dreams that brought great joy. 

Perhaps you’ve even looked back at old journals?  Or old lists of goals stuffed in a book somewhere that you come across when it’s time to do a deep cleaning.  I wonder what folks think about when they read those lists.  I wonder if we remember something about a better part of ourselves that we may have forgotten.

Let’s come back to that later, but I’m curious,
What are your favorite books of the Bible?

Part of the genius in the use of the lectionary—the three-year cycle of readings that are appointed for use in worship—is that it gives us a systematic breadth of biblical material over those three years.  One advantage is that we are not simply subjected to the whims of preachers who may want to simply stay in their own comfort zone or only preach their favorite passages.  But sometimes, if the preacher is patient, their favorite passages come around.
So I am excited to be here with you this morning!  Not only because I have always felt so welcomed in this community, but because I get to talk about the letter of James— my favorite!—one of the most radical and one of the most slandered books in the Bible! 

Elsa Tamez, a Latin-American feminist theologian, once noted that:

If the letter of James were sent to Christian communities in certain countries that suffer from violence and exploitation, it would very possibly be intercepted by government security agencies.  The document would be branded a subversive because of the paragraphs that denounce the exploitation by landowners (5:1-6) and the carefree life of merchants (4:13-17).  The passage that affirms that “pure, unspoilt religion, in the eyes of God our Father is this: coming to the help of orphans and widows when they need it, and keeping oneself uncontaminated by the world” (1:27) would be criticized as a reduction of the gospel or as Marxist-Leninist infiltration in the churches.  The community that was to receive this letter would become very suspicious to the authorities.[1]

Tamez was speaking in the context of civil unrest and revolution, and oppression in many Latin American countries.  The disappearances. The torture chambers. The assassinations.  Her point remains. 

The letter of James has had to deal with similar interceptions over its history.  This letter has made church authorities suspicious since the beginning, and perhaps the only reason it made it into the canon of scripture was the hard-fought consensus that it may have been written by James, the brother of Jesus.  And at that point it’s included because, hey, its Jesus’s brother.  Even then, its position as scripture was not solidified until the 400s. 

Further, In the Reformation, the letter suffered more malignment.  Reformers like Luther downplayed James’s letter for two reasons.

1)      Western Christianity has in general been more interested in figuring out the philosophical underpinnings of the faith than the implications of that work.  The controversies in Western theology have been more invested in who Jesus is and the fully human and fully divine nature of Christ.  Important work, to be sure; but in the meantime, a letter about the implications of living a holy life loses its luster or importance in the mainstream theological debates of the day.

2)      The reformers were concerned with how salvation works.  Is it by faith or works?  James was seen as too focused on works as opposed to Luther’s faith by justification alone.  There is a definite preference for Paul among the reformers.
a.      And actually, Luther said “St. John’s Gospel and his first epistle, St. Paul’s epistles, especially Romans, Galatians, and Ephesians and St. Peter’s first epistle are the books that show you Christ and teach you all that is necessary and salvatory for you to know, even if you were never to see any other book or doctrine.  Therefore St. James’s epistle is really an epistle of straw, compared to these others, for it has nothing of the nature of the Gospel about it.”[2] 

Harsh!

The malignment did not end at the Reformation.  With the ascendance of historical-critical biblical criticism in the 1800s-1940s, many commentators simply thought that the letter of James was “too Jewish.”  The anti-Semitism exhibited in the scholarship showed up as some argued that the letter is actually a Jewish letter with references to Jesus added in later.  So it seemed to many to be an un-Christian letter in the New Testament.  Remember this is the anti-Semitism that set the stage for the holocaust, so naming something as “Jewish” was a way to dismiss it.  Never mind that even though James does not talk about who Jesus is, it is chock full of what Jesus said.  

But it’s not just in theology that James is not talked about.  The letter is frequently and historically cherry-picked in worship. We only hear it once for a few weeks every three years. Rarely is it preached upon.  In fact, missing from our lectionary are the first six verses of the fifth chapter of James, which read:

Come now, you rich people, weep and wail for the miseries that are coming to you. Your riches have rotted, and your clothes are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver have rusted, and their rust will be evidence against you, and it will eat your flesh like fire. You have laid up treasure for the last days. Listen! The wages of the labourers who mowed your fields, which you kept back by fraud, cry out, and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts. You have lived on the earth in luxury and in pleasure; you have fattened your hearts on a day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered the righteous one, who does not resist you.

Throughout history, in churches where royalty, feudal lords, landowners, slave owners, corporate executives, and the richest donors to the church may be sitting in the front pew, few pastors have wanted to spend long commenting on that passage.  But it is a prophetic piece. And by prophetic, we do not mean just telling the future, but naming what is wrong in the community and larger society.  In essence, prophets are those who bring social critique, and in the Biblical sense; always point out when the poor are not being taken care of, which signals to the prophet that justice is not being served.  Because of this, James’ letter is in line with the prophets of the Old Testament (and Jesus!).                                                                                               

There are three angles through which to view the letter, and I commend these angles to you as you hear the passages from James as they are read over the next few weeks.  These angles are helpful in that they help illuminate in our own context the ways this letter still has much to say.

The Angle of Oppression and Suffering: There is a community of believers that suffers.  There is a group of rich people who oppress them and drag them before tribunals.  There are peasants who are exploited, Christians and non-Christians, by rich farmers who accumulate wealth at the expense of the workers’ salaries.[3]  There is a class of merchants who lead a carefree life with no concern for the poor.[4]

The Angle of Hope: The community of believers needs a word of hope, of encouragement, of reassurance concerning the end of the injustice.  James gives it to them from the very beginning of his letter.  We see hope in James’s greeting, his insistence on exhorting the community to faithful expectation and happiness in the face of unrelenting BS, in his words about God’s preference for the poor, God’s judgment against the oppressors, the anticipated end of that oppression, and the coming of the Lord.

The Angle of Praxis (practice):  The content of the letter is concentrated in this angle.  For James the denunciation of the present situation and the announcement of hope are not in themselves sufficient. Something more is needed: praxis [action, a practice].  He asks of these Christians a praxis in which they show a resolute patience; a consistency between words, belief, and deeds; a power with prayer; an effective wisdom; and an unconditional, sincere love among the members of the community that does not make distinction between members based on wealth [—or rather, to elevate the poor since the status of the rich so often guarantees that they will get respect.[5]][6]

This emphasis on the practice of faith is where James will concentrate for the rest of Chapters 1 and 2 in his letter, beginning with his admonition to “be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” 

This brings me back to the questions I started with.  Time has a way of dissolving one’s attention, intention, and resolve.  As James says, “if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like.”  There are times in our faith that are like us coming to our senses, like looking up and breathing deeply of fresher air than the drudgery of life might normally allow, gaining a perspective so much greater than our own, only to then find our lives return to  tunnel vision in the act of existing.  But it’s amazing how soon the memory of our intentions can come back to us when we are confronted with it face-to-face.  That project you always wanted to do.  The commitment to spend more time with your loved ones.  Exercising the gift you offer to the world’s great need. The persistent sin that remains unaddressed.  How many times have you committed to something only to later discover much later that it had become forgotten?  How often have those commitments represented the better of your intentions and an impulse given to you by God through the Spirit?

James’s letter will cover a lot of ground in the next few weeks.  They are words well worth marking.  And it’s worth seeing that it is a letter that speaks to hope, oppression and suffering, and the shape of the holy life in ways immediately relevant to our own lives. 

I suggest that questions that confront us today are these:  Is there a greater purpose of your life that has been forgotten that needs to be recovered?  What is the thing God wants you to hold onto as your own precious work for the Kingdom we proclaim in word and deed?  How will you own this truth, and hold it as the gift it is in the days, weeks, and years to come?

May God bless us in both our hearing and doing, as we proclaim and build for the Good of the Kingdom.



[1] Tamez, Elsa. The Scandalous Message of James: Faith without Works Is Dead. Rev. ed. (New York: Crossroad, 2002) 1.
[2] Wittenburg, 1522.
[3] Jas. 5.
[4] Jas. 4.
[5] Jas 2:1-6.
[6] This list of interpretive angles is found in Elsa Tamez, The scandalous message of James: faith without works is dead, Rev. ed. (New York: Crossroad, 2002), 11.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

"Something there is that doesn’t love a wall"

Robert Berra
Sermon, St. Matthew’s, Chandler
Proper 11, Year B
Track 1


A photo of the barrier separating Palestine from Israel, taken by a fellow pilgrim (who I would credit if I could remember who took it!).

Rain quietly spattered on the windows of the bus as we made our way west from Jericho to Bethany on our way to Bethlehem.  This was day 4 of our trip. We had left the north of Israel and our time around the Sea of Galilee, and we were coming to spend two nights in Bethlehem and then three nights in the Old City of Jerusalem.  The politics surrounding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict were present on our first days of the trip, but muted.  In the Galilean countryside, the conflict seemed far away.  Now, as we set our faces to Jerusalem, we had some idea that our guides were going to take us square into elements of the conflict.  This pilgrimage was going to be political as well as personal.  As we traveled from Jericho to Jerusalem, we left the main highway for a side trip. There is a church along the road that commemorates the raising of Lazarus and the conversation Jesus has with Mary and Martha about choosing the better way.[1]  Going through the urban area, I noticed a lot of trash piled near the crowded streets.  Many of the buildings looked like they were suffering from deferred maintenance.  It looked like an economically depressed area.   After we finished our worship and tour of the church, we pulled our rain gear over us to re-board the bus and be on our way.  As we traveled, we saw more of the same.  A lot of men standing and talking.  Grocers trying to sell their goods at curbside markets.  We then came to what our guides wanted us to see.  On the most direct path from the church we visited to Old City Jerusalem stood a wall of grey concrete nearly 30 ft. tall with an imposing guard tower in the distance.  As we stared at this wall through the rain-beaded windows, and as the driver turned us around on a path to the nearest checkpoint, our guide read this bit of scripture: 

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us…that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it.

It was a calculated move on the part of our guides, and knowing that it was intentional felt like some of us to be manipulation for dramatic effect.  Perhaps it worked; I’m telling you this story today. 

We had to go back the way we came to swing west and then south through Jerusalem to Bethlehem.  It was then that I realized and confirmed with our guides what I suspected.  The path we had taken which would have lead from Jericho to the Old City of Jerusalem was at one time a major thoroughfare.  Now, with the wall in place, the entire community was essentially turned into a cul-de-sac and cut out of the tourism trade.  What used to be a 10-minute walk from Old Jerusalem to that community can now be a 3 hour drive; that is, assuming you are allowed through the military checkpoint.  As a result, few people pass through, and the major industry of that area has shriveled, Folks are cut off from services, such as one’s doctors, from one side of the wall to the other. That, among other things, explains the economic depression we saw along the way.  The barrier was ever-present for the rest of our trip as we drove through both Israeli and Palestinian territory.

And lest we think that we can claim some sort of moral superiority over either side, it is worth noting that our nation currently has one of the largest walled borders in the world, portions of which run through our very state.  And lest we be tempted to think that we can sit back and claim that the barrier is an overreaction, or a sign of collective madness, let me say this.  From 2000 to 2003, 76 suicide bombings occurred in Israel. That is a land space that roughly covers a triangle from Tucson to the Grand Canyon, through Phoenix to Globe; but all of those attacks occurred in urban centers.  After the building of portions of the wall, from 2003 to 2006, only twelve suicide bombings occurred, and the number has gone down from there.[2]  

As a father, if I were in a similar situation and someone promised me that I could send my children out in the world more-confident that they would not be blown up in a suicide attack, I would face a difficult decision.  While I like to think I’d be brave enough to live boldly in a dangerous world as a sign of my trust in God’s good purposes and ends, I may indeed be willing to trade the human dignity of many (reducing their freedom, stopping their movement, taking their land) if I receive a sense of security for my family. (We, sitting in this sanctuary, have certainly benefitted from the historical taking of other people’s land by our forebears who wanted that security and felt entitled to take what they wanted by force.) It might be worth it to think that I’ve done what I can so that when he’s old enough I can send Colin shopping without wondering whether he would be blown up by a suicide bomber. 

I have some very definite ideas about the morality of these situations, but at the moment I simply say that the decision-making process is not “crazy” or “delusional.” Reserve those words for actual psychological diagnoses, because what we are talking about is the human instinct of survival.

Survival is the human instinct that drives us to build walls.

And there are so many walls. 

International borders. 
Occupied territories. 
No man’s lands.  
Demilitarized zones. 
Gated communities. 
Ghettoized neighborhoods (which in the U.S. are the legacy of white flight and the practice of redlining).[3] 
Our own notions of race, class, sex and gender identity, and religion.  
Our political leanings.  
Our propensity to wall ourselves from those who have wounded us or disagree with us.  (How long is your list of those people?  My list is in the double digits, I think.)

Walls keep us safe.

In fact, their existence is touted as a virtue.  Benjamin Franklin once quipped “love thy neighbor, yet don’t pull down your hedge.”  The poet Robert Frost is perhaps most credited with how we often hear this wisdom from his poem “Mending Wall”: “good fences make good neighbors.”[4]  And this is a notion that one can find expressed in many different cultures.[5]

However, Frost’s poem begins with this line: “Something there is that doesn't love a wall.”  Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, would agree.[6]

In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, Paul is writing to a church community primarily made up of Gentiles.  In so doing Paul is making the case that God has done something radical and new in Jesus Christ.  On the one hand, there are the gentiles, strangers and aliens, far from God and unaware of God’s covenant and promises made to Israel.  On the other hand are the children of Israel, near to God in covenant and law, but are indicted by that very law as disobedient.  “Both groups, Gentiles and Jews, for different reasons, are estranged from God.  And both groups are estranged from and live in hostility to one another.”[7]  The heart of the text is Paul’s reminder these two distinct people, Jews and Gentiles, have become one new humanity, writing that “Christ might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it.”[8]  Christ brought down the dividing wall.  This is the reality of God’s ministry of reconciliation, and it would have been a shocking image.  These two groups would not even deign to eat together.  And yet, “when the neighbors in ancient Ephesus saw who was eating together in the little church, they were shocked.  And when the preacher in that infant congregation saw those shocked faces, all that needed to be said…was “you are witnesses to God’s kingdom come, God’s will done.””[9]  No one is thrown out.  No one is cast aside.  Everyone is invited.

Even though Paul is speaking specifically to the separation of Gentiles and Jews, this passage speaks to our separations today, our situations that need reconciliation.  We are not invited to reconcile ourselves to God and consider our life’s work done; our space in paradise reserved.  That is a purpose too small for God—who desires no less than the reconciliation of all to all, so that God can be all in all.[10]  And God has given us the ministry of reconciliation that not only brings us into a more perfect communion with God but to make us one through Christ with those we once called enemies.[11] 

But even more audacious than the claim of a new humanity is Paul’s other claim.  Are you ready for this?  Because Christ is our peace, bought through the cross, we Christians proclaim that peace has already been made.  Just as death has been destroyed, just as death is no longer the end; hostility, and war, bloodshed are not the final destiny of humankind.  Aggression and hatred are shadows, intended to pass away.  As Paul wrote, “Christ is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall…the hostility between us.”[12]

It is this abiding peace of Christ that we are called to witness to, and it is this peace that creates the conditions for the walls to come tumbling down.  It is God’s desire for this peace that propels Christians into the world, into situations that seem hopeless.   But the work is difficult.

You see, even at their best, walls do not create peace.  They are the tools of temporary cease-fires, of truces that may end, of stand-offs that can last years and decades, in situations both political and personal.  They are testimonies to humankind’s inability to effect reconciliation and a just peace, and so instead we stall.  The situation still exists, but building the walls allows us to think that we have a solution, and that our attention is now better spent elsewhere.  And when the walls we built seem insufficient, we build bigger and better walls.  Bringing down the wall, however, is not good enough, nor does the simple demolition of boundaries create peace.  The walls we create are symptoms of the hostility behind them. Peace comes only when that hostility is eliminated, and that is the work God calls us to participate in and witness in action. This is bitter, difficult work, well worth the effort and joy that comes with its completion.

“Something there is that doesn't love a wall
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it, 
And spills the upper boulders in the sun, 
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.[13]

And God commends the same to us.
----------------
May we consider these questions:
Where is God inviting us and equipping us to confront a hostility within ourselves or within our world?
Where might we rejoice to take a stone off the walls we have built?
Where might we point with joy to crumbling walls, and testify to God’s work?





[1] Luke 10:42.
[6] Paul’s authorship of Ephesians is contested in modern scholarship.  It is possible that a follower of Paul’s school of thought wrote the letter.  This sermon is written assuming the tradition of Paul’s authorship while noting the uncertainty of that authorship.
[7] George Stroup, “Ephesians 2:11-22: Theological perspective” in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 3,  256.
[8] Eph 2:15-16.
[9] Edwin Searcy, “Ephesians 2:11-22: Homiletical perspective” in Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 3,  257.
[10] 1 Cor 15:28.
[11] 2 Cor 5:18.
[12] Eph 2:14.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

The Currency of the Kingdom of God

Year A
Proper 24
St. Matthew's, Chandler

Exodus 33:12-23

Psalm 99

1 Thessalonians 1:1-10
Matthew 22:15-22

In the fall of 2007, as I began my student teaching, I was also deciding that I wanted to go to graduate school. I had taken a history class on holy war, and the subject fascinated me. I’ve always been interested in why people do the things that they do, and the class ignited within me a desire to study how religion can be used to make people violent. That’s how I ended up at ASU from 2008-2010, studying for my master’s degree. I was in the Religious Studies department studying the things that interested me:  politics, religion, war, the use of torture, the relationship between the religious and the secular, and the role religion plays in conversations about sex and gender.

Perhaps you have noticed—none of these topics are considered polite dinner conversation.

And there are reasons for this.  Politics and religion are difficult to talk about.  The political climate in our country is incredibly polarized and often reduced to talking points being hurled back and forth.
And so I come to find out that thanks to the preaching rotation, the Gospel reading from the lectionary that I am preaching on is one of the Bible’s most explicitly political passages.

What do you do with that?

Contemporary American thought tends to support keeping religion and politics separate. We do not often want to hear politics preached from pulpits. We tend to think that religion and our faith is above politics—or at least that it should be. We tend to think that religion should remain unstained by political processes.

Or maybe it’s the other way around.

Maybe religion stains politics. We’ve seen through history and in current events that mixing religion and politics can yield deadly results and oppressive policies. Maybe, we think, it’s better to see religion as purely the realm of the spiritual, and politics the realm of the physical and material—what we experience in the real world, outside of the church. And so we separate Church and state in our own lives and minds.

Still, the Gospel reading shows Jesus in the thick of a political situation, and reminding those around him of their responsibilities to God.

I beg your indulgence, because in a time when many of us tend to live dualistic lives in between the secular and the religious, I believe it makes a difference if one’s faith leads one to allow constraints and divisions and oppressions that are already present in the world (and in the church), or leads one to participate in a faith that seeks to reconcile all to one another.

I’ll come to that in a moment, but let’s begin at the beginning. What’s going on in this story? What is so political about it? Jesus has come into Jerusalem just days before his death. He and his large crowd of disciples and followers are in the temple. He has been telling parables in which the Pharisees appear in a bad light. Jesus makes them appear to be hypocritical and unbending religious purists.
The Pharisees have had enough. So the Pharisees think about ways to embarrass and discredit Jesus. Maybe, they think, we can get him to say something embarrassing or treasonous. The Pharisees send some of their own to Jesus with a question, along with some folks named in the gospel as Herodians.

Some background may be helpful here, because this is an odd part of the story. And it reminds me of a novel full of political intrigue. You see, the Pharisees and the Herodians would not have liked each other. ‘Herodian’ means a supporter of Herod Antipas, who was not a very nice guy. He’s the guy who had John the Baptist, Jesus’ cousin, beheaded.
Now, imagine, if you will, that you live in a country in which a close family member was executed. Imagine this family member was executed on the whim of a state official. Now imagine that this official’s flunkies come up to you to question you about patriotism and taxes. You will have some idea of how Jesus felt when confronted by the Herodians.

Herodians were folks who supported the Roman occupation of Jerusalem. Pharisees did not like the Herodians because the Pharisees were not fans of the occupation; the Pharisees thought the Herodians were sell-outs to Rome. But a mutual hate can make for strange friends, and Jesus made both the Pharisees and the Herodians nervous. Jesus threatened the power they had fought to keep. For the Pharisees’— it was their bid for the people’s religious lives. For the Herodians— control of the occupational government. This meant that both groups had the most access to power; and someone like Jesus, who called their use of power into question, was a problem to be ‘resolved.’

The group comes up to Jesus, and they ask their trick question; a yes or no question which should have embarrassed Jesus no matter which way he answered it. If Jesus said to pay the tax, He would appear to be a sympathizer of the oppressive government and lose credibility with many of his followers; in that case the Pharisees win.

If Jesus said not to pay the tax, he would be guilty of treason. An agitator. The Herodians would not let someone who openly protested their rule live. Rome does not like rebels. If Jesus says not to pay the tax, the Herodians could have him killed, and the Pharisees still win.

Pretty brilliant, right? Politics as usual in occupied territories.

Jesus throws them a curve ball by asking for the coin. The coin was a denarius. And it looked a lot like coins we would see today, but with a major difference. Our quarter doesn’t name George Washington as God; the denarius did name the emperor as God. For a Jew to be carrying a coin that called anyone but the God of Israel divine—in the temple of all places!— would have been embarrassing. That the Pharisees and Herodians could produce the coin probably made them a bit sheepish.

Jesus then asks who is on the coin. They answer ‘the emperor,’ and Jesus famously replies “Give to the emperor that which belongs to the emperor, and to God what belongs to God.”

With this response the Pharisees and the Herodians are humiliated. They walk away amazed; surprised that they did not see that response coming. Jesus managed to take their yes or no question about taxes and turn even that to God.  What Jesus did was take the limiting question posed by those who ruled a worldly kingdom and he expanded the vision upward.

I want to suggest that the gospel reading for today is more than Matthew bragging on Jesus’ rhetorical skills, more than a tale showing Jesus’ political prowess, more than a scriptural permission for Christians to pay taxes, and more than a handy reading to pull out and read for church pledge drives.

The gospel reading today is a challenge to us because we are all called to ask a few questions:

If we owe something to God, how do we tell what it is?
Just as the denarius bears Caesar’s image— what bears the image of God?
What is the currency of the Kingdom of God?
Does this have bearing on our politics today?

In asking these questions we are called to a process of formation; a process of sifting through our lives to find out what bears the image of what would want to rule over us in this world; and what bears the image of God. It is a matter of discerning what is from the kingdoms of this world, and what is part of the Kingdom of God.

This is an act of discernment that we engage on our own and in community.

What makes this task difficult is that we are not just in the world or just in sync with God. We are both of God and in the world.

We look at both the best and the worst of what we carry within us—our actions, our thoughts, our reactions—and like coins in our pockets, we prayerfully examine these things closely to see whose image we find on them.
In allowing God to do this work inside us, we learn something about God and God’s desire for the world we see before us.

Then we begin to see the world according to the economy of the Kingdom of God—that every person bears the inscription of God. Remember the line from the Book of Genesis (1:27):
So God created humankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.
This is the point of departure about who we as people of faith say we all are. And it was so important that it was repeated three times in the same breath. All humankind—all—bear the image that God created, the image shared by Christ when he walked the earth as God incarnate, and the image which the Spirit enlivens daily.


But sometimes that image of God in other people is hard to see. The world and other people try to stamp other inscriptions on us all. Inscriptions of race, gender, nationality, ability, wealth, and many others.

How do these inscriptions influence us to act?

To take a look around our country:

Inscriptions of race can determine whether one’s death is considered a tragedy or an event to be written off and ignored because the media reports that the person “was no angel.”

Inscriptions of gender can determine what positions one can hold in business, government, the church—if not on paper, at least in practice.

Inscriptions of nationality can determine whether or not one can be treated as a person by the government-- Whether or not one is known as an ‘illegal’ or subject to enhanced interrogation techniques, otherwise known as torture.

Inscriptions of ability can determine whether you are seen as a child of God or a cross to bear for family and friends.

Inscriptions of wealth can determine whether or not you are respected, or considered a human being of worth.

These inscriptions are powerful. They still have a hold on me: on how I see others and on how I see myself. It takes a daily effort not to see the person in front of us as the sum of what marks society inscribes on us, but as Children of God, bearing God’s image, and of precious worth.

Then we are called to act on our discernment. To act as though our recognition of what is God’s and what is the world’s has meaning that is more than a theological proposition, but a compass to guide our actions in life. This may have political consequences.

The effort is to see what God sees; to acknowledge the different set of standards of God’s Economy— an economy based on life, and redemption, and warmth, and love—instead of an economy of cold metal, and paper, and scarcity, and apathy.

Then we give to God what is God’s by recognizing the image of Christ in the stranger and the friend, the sick and the well, the hungry and the filled, the imprisoned and the powerful, the rich and especially the poor.

And ultimately, we may find that recognizing what belongs to God is more rewarding than to bow to the inscriptions the world fosters, or bow in homage to systems that betray or deny the inherent worth of others. In so doing, we give back to God— and give to neighbor— that which bears God’s inscription: love, hope, light, pardon, faith, and help.

To recognize the dignity of others in spite of what the world has set as important is a step toward acknowledging a part of the reign of God; and acting on that reality. The acknowledgement sets our sights higher than the powers and principalities and rulers and authorities of this world.
…and that may have political consequences.

May your discernment of what bears God’s image in your life be fruitful.

Amen.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Liberating the Letter of James


Given that Rick Warren is on record as saying that he is in favor of 'wealth creation' instead of 'wealth redistribution,' I think a paper I recently wrote brings James "the brother of the Lord" into the picture as a dialog partner, and has some explanatory power as to what is going through Rick's head.

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The Letter of James has had something of a checkered past, and probably ranks as one of the most forgotten, dismissed, or attacked books in the Western canon of scripture.  In terms of abuse, famous is Luther’s characterization of the letter as “an epistle of straw.” The Letter of James also took much abuse in the late nineteenth century, such as being regarded as the “least Christian book in the New Testament.” [1]   Some interpreters went so far as to say that the text is actually Jewish with references to Jesus added later in its development.[2]  One can imagine that, in a more anti-Semitic age in Europe, such a judgment of the letter would be used to marginalize its place in the canon.  More recently, Elsa Tamez—a Methodist Latin-American feminist theologian—speaks of the Letter of James as a letter that would be ‘intercepted’ by national security agencies in certain countries and branded as subversive, due in part to its denunciation of exploitation by wealthy landowners.[3]  

But the notion that the letter would be considered too hazardous for some to read is an alien concept to me.  When I entered debates about the importance of ‘works’ in the life of faith—the purview of ‘James versus Paul’—I was still situated in a context that favored abstract discussions of the method of eternal salvation, which was the context in which I was raised.  The life of faith in my former Southern Baptist context was occupied with correct belief and the avoidance of sin.  Those who were kind and generous are/were admired, but the conscious understanding of works as being an active component of faith was not present because “works” were thought of in caricature—as a way for humans to try to tip the salvific balance in one’s favor.  The debate never tipped into considering the experience of oppression.  Indeed individualism reigned as the frame of reference.  The Letter of James was rarely consulted in the Southern Baptist context in which I moved.   The oversight now strikes me as egregious.  

So, my goal is to suggest the possibility of the Letter of James being ‘intercepted’ shows that the primarily theological debate between faith and works is not the most important legacy of the letter.  The letter is a prophetic call to care for the poor, for which James 2:14-28 serves as a theological underpinning.  I also wish to suggest that the way James speaks of the rich and the poor, and the favoritism showed to the former, are immediately applicable in the context of issues of class in the United States.  As such, James challenges American churches.  This post will proceed as follows.  I will offer a critique of some of the intentional and unintentional ‘interceptions’—by which I mean the marginalization of the letter as a whole— of the Letter of James in scholarship and ecclesial settings.  I will then move to consider what the Letter of James can offer in terms of understanding first century class distinctions (the difference between the destitute, the ‘working poor,” and the wealthy),  which can also speak to—and challenge—  twenty-first century Americans.

One unintentional interception is the preoccupation with debating modes of salvation and how we read James as being a debate partner of Paul.  Luke Timothy Johnson notes that there is a pervasive fallacy in Biblical studies to assume that Paul “has to figure in the equation somewhere.”[4]  While James 2:14-28 has been historically read as a contradicting Paul (while in actuality Paul and James are in some agreement), Johnson is rather rightly annoyed that “scholars continue to read whatever is different from Paul with reference to Paul, rather than allow it to stand as simply different.”[5]  For better or worse, I would say my own approach to the letter fell into the fallacy Johnson wrote about:  my preoccupation was to read James in light of Paul because what I was raised to consider important were the mechanisms of eternal salvation.  Given that much of scholarship of the letter has revolved around this theological debate, I would say my preoccupation with just James 2:14-28 is part and parcel of a Western privileging of abstract thought.  Johnson posits that the preoccupation with the theology of Justification by works and/or faith is the result of the historical-critical paradigm and the “purportedly “scientific” study of the Bible.”[6]  I would argue that this paradigm is a ‘Western’ invention and while it is an important conversation, debating faith and works interferes with the call to care for those who are oppressed. [7]

Moving into the Episcopal Church in my early twenties meant coming into a denomination in which there was a stereotype (and a waning reality) of wealthy congregations.  But my move also brought me into the orbit of liberation theologies, which have brought me further into the other issues in the letter of James. Liberative theological work, such as that of Tamez, rightfully points us to the fact that there is more to James’ letter than a refutation of Paul.  James has an agenda of his own.  But moving into certain churches does not guarantee one will hear James proclaimed in worship.  Other forms of interception occur.  Tamez notes that the reasonableness of faith is valued more than the practice of faith, and so it is not unusual that “as least in [many] Protestant churches…Paul is read and quoted more than the Gospels which speak of the life of Jesus.[8]  She charges Western society with a preference for what is said about Jesus (the building of a theological concept of Christ) as opposed to what Jesus said (presumably the active component stemming from belief in Jesus as Lord).  This was certainly the experience of my childhood.  

Further, Tamez notes that the letter’s “radical critique of the rich” has made its proclamation rare.[9]  She writes that she: 

“knows of churches where the letter is skipped over in the liturgies because there are many rich members in the congregation, and it is very uncomfortable to speak against them when they are sitting in the front seats.  Certain parts of James, especially chapter 5, are very concrete and very difficult to spiritualize.”[10]

Indeed, if a church is following the Revised Common Lectionary, James 5:1-6—the warning to rich oppressors—is skipped over; though one will hear that they are to remain patient in suffering (James 5:7-10).[11]  Unlike the terms of debate over faith and works, which garners those who contest the means of salvation and so maintain a focus on that particular issue, the selection of the lectionary is an intentional ‘interception’ in which churches and committees choose which texts are worthy to be proclaimed, or which texts need to be skipped for reasons of comfort or political maneuvering.  

The final method of interference I’d like to mention could be used by both academicians and church authorities.  Tamez notes that Martin Dibelius, who wrote one of the touchstone modern commentaries on the Letter of James, wrote extensively on the paraenetic character of the letter.[12]  He also wrote that a document of moral exhortations is relevant for a certain period of time and place, but the exhortations may no longer have bearing outside of that context.[13]  One may hear something similar in other matters in which debates of ethics and the Bible arise.  However, like Tamez, if we take James’ central message to be the defense of, solidarity with, and care of the oppressed, then we should ask when there has never been a group oppressed.  Since it is historically unlikely that there has been such a utopian society, the Letter of James may have something to say to us.  One thread which can be pulled from Jame’s liberative stance is the solidarity of the poor in opposition to the oppression of the rich.

One trouble that James was addressing was the issue of identification with—and favoritism toward—the rich (2:1-13).  It is this problem that sets the context for the theological instruction in James 2:14-28 on the matter of faith and works.  James mentions two different classes of ‘the poor’ in the letter.  The first is the ptochos, which most often refers to a penniless alms beggar, and is the term James uses in 2:2 when speaking of a poor person in dirty clothes.[14]  The other class is the penes—those who had a job but did not own property.[15]  Although the word penes does not appear in the letter, these are who James means when, in 5:4, he speaks of laborers and harvesters whose wages the rich hoard by fraud.  These were laborers who were a day’s wage away from becoming the ptochos.[16] It is both of these classes of the poor whom James seeks to protect.

What James seems to know about wealth is that it can garner considerable respect from those who do not have wealth.  James knows that the regard of the identifiers of worldly status and wealth can lead communities to forget that there is to be a preferential option for the poor, and so the rich are treated with respect and the best of the community while the poor are forgotten and further marginalized (‘Sit at my feet’ (2:3)) in the very community of the God who made them “heirs of the Kingdom (2:5).”  In order to countermand this tendency to respect the rich over the poor, James reminds them that the “royal law” is no defense:   “You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors (2:8-9).”[17]  

It is this community issue which sets the stage for James’ reminder of who is actually important within the community.  One may have faith, and one may seek to follow the perfect law of liberty (1:25), but one is to not simply be a hearer of the word.  One is to be a doer (1:22-25).  And what seems to James to be so disturbing is that one will show favoritism to the rich while allowing the poor to continue to suffer: 

“If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill’, and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead (2:15-16).”

Indeed, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world (1:27).”  And given the surrounding context of the letter, one may imagine that James is attempting to keep communities “unstained by the world” by reminding them of their responsibility to the poor as opposed to their favoritism of the rich.

James further seeks to draw a wide line between the rich and the poor by reminding those he addresses “…You have dishonored the poor.  Is it not the rich who oppress you?  Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you (2:6-7)?”  This seems to signal that the community, in James’ mind, is comprised most properly of the poor, both ptochos and penes, and yet they forget that they are to stand in solidarity.  In essence James may see himself as reminding the poor in the Christian community that there is indeed a divide, and they should not be blinded by the riches of the world, or be tempted to chase them (see 4:1-3 and 4:13-17) for fear of losing sight of God and becoming one who oppresses the Godly.  Indeed according to James, the rich (plousioi) are characterized by their elegant dress (2:2), their use of courts against the poor (2:6), insatiable accumulation of wealth (4:13 and 5:3), their unjust dealing with workers (5:4), luxurious devotion to pleasure (5:5), and their murder of the innocent (5:6).[18]  As Tamez points out, “these are the characteristics of the rich, familiar to the prophets and to Jesus.  It is no wonder James has been called the Amos of the New Covenant.”[19]

So, James was trying to bolster the solidarity of the poor among Christians of varying wealth; in fact, in the letter he assumes varying degrees of wealth even as he tried to create solidarity among the poor over the rich.  He considered most egregious that possibility that the community did not give up the quest for excessive worldly wealth and showed favoritism to the rich while denigrating their poorer brother and sisters.  It is reasonable to assume that the penes in the congregation would be living barely above subsistence, yet were quite happy to say that at least they weren’t the ptochos.  James also assumes that he had to remind the congregations of their responsibility to do something tangible for the ptochos, and not just wish them well (2:15-16).

What does this have to do with the church today?  Something very similar to the situation James confronted has been studied in sociological readings of American society, particularly the national mass media’s portrayal of class in American society.

In an essay on the media’s portrayal of class in American, Gregory Mantsios notes that while American society is one of the most highly stratified societies in the industrialized world, with class distinctions bearing significant weight upon the living of one’s life, the nation is able to maintain an illusion of an egalitarian society by the dismissal of class through and in the media.[20]  Ownership and control of national media is concentrated in a few companies representing corporate interests; and media exercise the ability to define overarching cultural tastes, tell the history of the people, establish our identity, and shape our perceptions about each other and the nature of our society.[21] As the media represents the interests of the affluent in society and help to create the illusion of solidarity between the affluent and the middle class (constructed as a universal ideal), a wedge is driven in between the middle class and the working poor, or simply ‘the poor.’  But the middle class and the affluent class are portrayed as victims of the poor, who threaten the middle class and the affluent’s hard-won prosperity through bad decisions and government redistribution (“welfare”).  The poor are to be feared, and/or cut-off.  In actuality, this construction of the universal middle class and their identification with the affluent does not need to be tied one one’s incomes, “what matters is that most of “us” share an intellectual and moral superiority over the disadvantaged.  As Time magazine once concluded, “Middle America is a state of mind.”[22]

Simply put, American Christians live in a context in which the working poor are primed to identify themselves as the upwardly-aspiring middle class seeking to pull themselves up by their bootstraps; the poor who cannot do so are demonized or rendered invisible.

In the twenty-first century, as in the first century, affluence beckons people toward attainment of wealth and the lionization of the rich is still a habit of human nature, while the poor are castigated and ignored.  American churches are no exception to this trend.  James, then, poses a challenge and a question to Christians in all churches, but particularly in American churches.  With whom will we identify:  the rich who seek to exploit others or those among us who are oppressed?  What shall we chase after:  wealth or God (in this way James mirrors Jesus, we can only serve one master)?  If we have wealth, shall we use it to relive the plight of the oppressed?  These are the questions an ‘intercepted’ letter of James asks of Christian communities.  The hope of a liberative reading of James is that the community will learn that faith is less something to be “understood,” but enacted.



[1] Luke Timothy Johnson, The letter of James: a new translation with introduction and commentary, Anchor Bible Series (New York: Doubleday, 1995), 150-151.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Elsa Tamez, The Scandalous Message of James: Faith without Works is Dead (New York: Crossroad, 1990), 1.
[4] Luke Timothy Johnson, Brother of Jesus, friend of God: Studies in the letter of James (Grand Rapids, Mich.: W.B. Eerdmans Pub., 2004), 115-116.
[5] Johnson, 116.  Johnson here is referring specifically to the faith v. works dynamic present in Paul’s work and Jas. 2:14-28, but the general principle of the fallacy stands.
[6] Luke Timothy Johnson, The letter of James: a new translation with introduction and commentary, Anchor Bible Series (New York: Doubleday, 1995), 156.
[7] By ‘Western,’ I mean Western European and North American spheres of influence.   
[8] Tamez, 5. 
[9] Tamez, 6.
[10] Tamez, 6.
[11] "James." The Text This Week - Revised Common Lectionary,  http://www.textweek.com/james.htm (accessed March 31, 2012).  Interestingly, the Episcopal Church’s lectionary did include James 5:1-6, until the denomination switched to the RCL.
[12] Tamez, 4, quoting Martin Dibelius, James, rev. Heinrich Greeven (Philadelphia:  Fortress Press, 1976), 54.
[13] Tamez, 4.
[14] Pedrito U.. Maynard-Reid,  Poverty and wealth in James (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1987), 108n.3.
[15] Meynard-Reid, 108n.3 and Tamez, 24-25.
[16] Tamez, 24-25.
[17] Meynard-Reid (66) believes this to be the case.
[18] Tamez, 28-30.
[19] Tamez, 30.
[20] Gregory Mantsios, "Media Magic: Making Class Invisible" in The social construction of difference and inequality: race, class, gender, and sexuality, 2nd ed., edited by Tracy E. Ore (Boston, Mass.: McGraw-Hill, 2003), 82.
[21] Mantsios, 82.
[22] Mantsios, 86-87.