Saugatuck Congregational Church, UCC
© Rev. Alison J. Buttrick Patton
September 6, 2015
Scriptures: Proverbs 22: 1-2, 8-9, 22-23 and James 2:1-13
I suspect that NY Times columnist David Brooks would hit it off with James, author of the letter from which we read a few verses this morning. Somewhat famously, David Brooks has recently remade himself from a conservative political pundit into something of a popular theologian and social ethicist. In his newest book, The Road to Character, David Brooks explores the difference between resumé values and epitaph values – that is, the difference between the things we do because they will look good on a resumé, and the things for which we’d like to be remembered after we die; the difference between keeping up appearances, and cultivating character; between saying something, and living it out.
James is all about putting our faith into action: doing, not just saying: “Do you really believe in Jesus Christ? Really? That’s interesting, because I notice that you have a tendency to pick favorites; plus, you act as if you are entitled to something that others don’t deserve. Funny, I don’t remember Jesus doing that. Ever.”
The author of this letter may well have been James, the brother of Jesus – in which case, he had a court-side view of what Jesus did. Now he’s writing to the early church. Scholars suspect that this was a general dispatch, rather than a personal letter to a single house-church – a kind of first century newspaper column. James wants to get the word out: You don’t get to be a Christian just by calling yourself one. You have to act like it, which means act like Jesus – or at least, follow his lead. (He concludes this section of his letter by writing, “Faith without works is dead.”) Today, he’d have his own Twitter feed: #ShowMe. His Prius might sport that bumper sticker that declares, “Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.”
Ouch. (For the record, I happen to think that going to church CAN make you a Christian – at least, it’s a good start. Where else can we rub elbows with folks on the same journey, hear the stories, be challenged, practice being faithful … But more on that in my fall preaching series!)
Anyway: some folks find James to be a bit harsh. We’re called to be faithful, not perfect. And who is James to point fingers, anyway? But I think James is just grappling with the big questions, like David Brooks, trying to get to the heart of the matter. James wants to break it down, wants to know what it looks like, feels like, lives like to be a Christian – in practical terms; David Brooks puts a more ecumenical frame on his inquiry, asking, “What does it look like, feel like, live like to have moral depth?”
For James, perhaps for David Brooks, too, one of the essential guide posts for living a moral life (James would say a Christian life) is the Royal Rule, the heart of Torah (Jewish holy writ) and of Christ’s teaching: Love your neighbor as yourself. Treat others as you would be treated. It’s that necessary reminder that life is not all about me; it’s about us. I am not the center; there are others to consider – others whose lives matter as much as my own.
We are accustomed to organizing people into categories: successful (or not); educated (or not); stylish (or not); Patriots fan (or not). Neurologically, these categories are necessary. They establish continuity, allow us to recognize that if it’s round, red and crisp, it’s an apple; and if it’s a white, square-ish building with a cone on top, it’s probably a church. Imagine the time and mental labor that would be required if we had to rediscover and label an object every time we encountered it. Round-red-crisp … must be an apple. Round-red-crisp … that must be an apple, too… Healthy mental functioning depends on the use of categories. (something we learn from the late doctor and writer Oliver Sacks, author of the Man Who mistook his Wife for a Hat, who died earlier this week, and who taught us a great deal, about neurological disorders, yes, but also about cherishing every person’s humanity).
See, the bugaboo comes when we put people into categories, and then assign value to those categories; when we encounter a person and think, consciously or unconsciously, “blind – must be incapable;” “well-dressed … must be smart,” “tattoos … must be sketchy;” “clean-shaven … probably trustworthy;” “disheveled … must not be very bright.”
That’s when we assign seats: upright citizens at the front; those less seemly folks, at the back. And lest we conclude that this was a first century hang-up, remember that our own Congregational ancestors assigned pews according to the size of a member’s financial pledge – with the most generous contributors sitting right up front. We don’t do that anymore (and if we did, I suspect the highest bidders would contend not for the front pew, but for the one at the back!). But it’s possible that we still have favorites. For example: Even though we celebrate newcomers, isn’t there a certain status that comes with many years of membership? Do we give less weight to the insights and contributions of folks who have just arrived? Perhaps it happens without our even realizing it, but James says, ‘Watch out!’
That kind of sifting and sorting, picking and choosing, is utterly incompatible with the Jesus-Way. In the divine calculus, everyone is equally valued; everybody counts – rich and poor, snappy dresser and fashion disaster, long-time member and newcomer.
The challenge – our challenge – is learning to act as if this were so; recognizing and rewriting our mental scripts, those assumptions that operate just below our cognitive radar, dictating how we treat the folks we encounter over the course of our day. Do I acknowledge the store clerk on my way past? Do I speak respectfully to children? Do I make eye contact with that person in a wheelchair, or with the caregiver pushing the wheelchair, or neither? Or both? To whom do I give my attention, and (more importantly) whom do I overlook?
A reporter once told a story about meeting Mother Theresa in Calcutta. She was sitting on the ground, absorbed in conversation with a poor and bedraggled-looking man. She did not acknowledge the reporter, but remained focused on the man, until he had finished his thought. Finally, she turned to the reporter and asked, “Now, with which one of us did you want to speak?”
That story sticks with me, because had I been in Mother Theresa’s sandals, I suspect I would have assumed that the reporter wanted to speak to me – the volunteer, the do-gooder, the one in charge, right? Her gracious inquiry convicts me as surely as that letter from James, reminding me just how challenging it can be to live out that Holy Rule to love your neighbor as yourself.
On this Labor Day weekend: I am also thinking about the laborers in our midst: especially the ones on whom we rely to make and mend our clothes, harvest our food, build our stuff and keep the electricity flowing. If you work with your hands: if you are a mechanic or a plumber; if your job requires that you stand on your feet all day; if you know, first hand, what it’s like to be ignored, disrespected or overlooked by those who rely on your services, I want to say, forgive us, and thank you. You are among the first citizens of God’s kin-dom. You are smart in ways I will never be, skilled in ways on which this country depends. If your clothes are disheveled, it’s a sign of how hard you work, and the difficult conditions under which you labor. We owe a debt of gratitude to you, so today I give God thanks.
And to the rest of us: may this weekend be occasion to take James’ words to heart, to join him, and David Brooks, and others in contemplating just what it means to live out our faith; to act like Jesus, maybe even to apply a little Jesus-style turning of the tables, by giving our full attention on those that too often get relegated to the back of the room.
It’s true: when we interact with those who think/process/work/move through the world differently than we do, it can cause us anxiety. We may not know what to expect.
But we can start here: expect that this person sitting across from you – across the room, across the counter, across the table … is a person every bit as precious as you. Every bit as deserving of dignity. Every bit as likely to long for love; to live with pain; to have a dream. Be curious: Ask: How did God make YOU? How do YOU move through the world? What inspires? What have you to offer? What have I to learn?
I believe we are supposed to rub elbows with each other; that there’s inherent value in getting folks from all those categories into the same room – or sitting around the same table. That mixing and matching – that’s what Church is! Church is where we revel in the differences – collectively awe-struck by the one thing we hold in common. In the words of the Proverbs: The rich and the poor have this in common: the LORD is Maker of them (us!) all.
Scriptures
Proverbs 22: 1-2, 8-9, 22-23 – New Revised Standard Version
1A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches,
and favor is better than silver or gold.
2 The rich and the poor have this in common:
the Lord is the maker of them all…
8Whoever sows injustice will reap calamity,
and the rod of anger will fail.
9 Those who are generous are blessed,
for they share their bread with the poor…
22 Do not rob the poor because they are poor,
or crush the afflicted at the gate;
23 for the Lord pleads their cause
and despoils of life those who despoil them.
James 2:1-13 – The Message Paraphrase
2 1-4 My dear friends, don’t let public opinion influence how you live out our glorious, Christ-originated faith. If a man enters your church wearing an expensive suit, and a street person wearing rags comes in right after him, and you say to the man in the suit, “Sit here, sir; this is the best seat in the house!” and either ignore the street person or say, “Better sit here in the back row,” haven’t you segregated God’s children and proved that you are judges who can’t be trusted?
5-7 Listen, dear friends. Isn’t it clear by now that God operates quite differently? [God] chose the world’s down-and-out as the kingdom’s first citizens, with full rights and privileges. This kingdom is promised to anyone who loves God. And here you are abusing these same citizens! Isn’t it the high and mighty who exploit you, who use the courts to rob you blind? Aren’t they the ones who scorn the new name—“Christian”—used in your baptisms?
8-11 You do well when you complete the Royal Rule of the Scriptures: “Love others as you love yourself.” But if you play up to these so-called important people, you go against the Rule and stand convicted by it. You can’t pick and choose in these things, specializing in keeping one or two things in God’s law and ignoring others. The same God who said, “Don’t commit adultery,” also said,
“Don’t murder.” If you don’t commit adultery but go ahead and murder, do you think your non-adultery will cancel out your murder? No, you’re a murderer, period.
12-13 Talk and act like a person expecting to be judged by the Rule that sets us free. For if you refuse to act kindly, you can hardly expect to be treated kindly. Kind mercy wins over harsh judgment every time.