James 1:17-27
Stained by the World
James Sledge September
2, 2018
There
was an article in The Washington Post recently
entitled, “Are rich people more likely
to lie, cheat, steal? Science explains the world of Manafort and Gates.”[1]
If you followed Paul Manafort’s recent trial, you know about the $15,000
ostrich and python jackets, the exorbitant lifestyle and the lengths he was
willing to go to maintain that lifestyle.
And of course Manafort is but one example in a
litany of cases involving insider trading, misuse of campaign contributions,
and so on. According to the Post article,
a growing body of scientific evidence finds that wealth, power, and privilege “makes
you feel like you’re above the law… allows you to treat others like they don’t
exist.”
Among the scientific studies was one where researchers
watched four-way stop intersections. Expensive cars were significantly less
likely to wait their turn than older and cheaper cars. The same researchers
sent pedestrians into crosswalks and observed which cars obeyed the law and
stopped when someone was in the crosswalk. Every single one of the older,
cheaper cars stopped, but only half of the expensive cars did.
Drawing on many different research studies the Post article said, “That research has
shown the rich cheat more on
their taxes. They cheat more on their romantic
partners. The wealthy and better-educated are more likely to
shoplift. They are more likely to cheat at
games of chance. They are often less
empathetic. In studies
of charitable giving, it is often the
lower-income households that donate higher
proportions of their income than middle-class and many
upper-income folk.”
This sort of research is relatively new, and so
there is a lot it cannot say about why or how this all works. But the evidence
is pretty compelling that being wealthy and/or powerful has a tendency to make
you an awful person. And perhaps that’s exactly the sort of thing our scripture
is worried about when it to keep oneself
unstained by the world.
The New Testament often speaks disparagingly of the
world. It’s not referring to Creation, of course, any more than we are when we
speak of “the ways of the world.” For many of the New Testament writers, “the
world” is shorthand for an arena, a culture, a way of living and being that is
opposed to God. God loves this world and seeks to redeem it, to set it right,
but the world resists such efforts. The cross speaks both to the level of the
world’s resistance and to God’s determination that this resistance will
ultimately fail.
But two centuries after the New Testament was
written, when Christianity became the state religion, the idea that culture and
society were hostile and corrosive to the ways of God, began to change. Over a
long period often labeled Christendom, culture and society and government were
presumed to be Christian in some way. In many parts of Europe the state and the
church were completely intertwined. America was somewhat different in that no
official state religion was permitted, but still, culture and politics were
presumed to be Christian in something of a de facto, state-sponsored,
non-denominational Protestantism.
When culture is presumed to be Christian, the world
poses less of a threat than it did to New Testament writers. It was a Christian
arena, a Christian society, so it couldn’t be opposed to God and God’s ways.
People recognized that evil was still a problem that had to be guarded against,
but the nation, the culture, the society were not themselves the problem.
Christendom has largely collapsed in our day, and
despite the nostalgia some have for a day when the culture overtly and
unapologetically propped up Christianity, there is no going back. But a number
of Christendom assumptions still survive. Among these is the notion that
participation in the civic, cultural, or economic systems of our society is not
in any fundamental way at odds with Christian faith. And that’s a dangerous
assumption.
Every day, all of us, young and old, are shaped by a
Madison Avenue liturgy that tells us we will be happier and content if only we
have more. It is a consumerist religion of acquisition that sends us out to get
more. And as we participate in regular practices of acquisition, experiencing
the momentary high of getting something shiny and new, we are shaped more and
more into consumers, faithful adherents of this religion of acquisition.
Christian
faith, by contrast, is a religion of letting go, of denying self and giving up
things for the sake of the other. It does not celebrate power but rather
weakness, and it sends out its followers to be servants who are especially
attuned to the needs of “the least of these.”
These two religions have many points of conflict and
few that are shared. But in a Christendom hangover, many still act as though
being a good citizen, a good American, equals Christian living, with Church all
about worship and the finer points of the faith. This church part is private
and personal, relegated to one’s inner being.
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. So writes James in our scripture reading for today. For James, Christian
faith cannot be constrained to the private, to belief or faith alone because
the liturgies of the world, whether those of Rome or Madison Avenue, inevitably
pervert and corrupt the message of the gospel. The antidote to this corruption
is to embrace the ways of living taught by Jesus and the commands found in
scripture. For without resisting the religion of Rome or consumerism, we will
inevitably become captive to its ways, stained by the world.
_____________________________________________________________________________
When Martin Luther inadvertently kicked off the
Protestant Reformation 500 years ago, he focused almost totally on faith. He
even campaigned to remove the book of James from the Bible, thinking it contradicted
Paul’s message of being saved by grace through faith. For Luther, the Law and
commandments served two purposes: to restrain evil and to make us despair at
our inability to keep them, thus driving us into the arms of God’s mercy.
John Calvin, about twenty five year younger than
Luther and the theological founder of our tradition, accepted Luther’s two
purposes of the Law, but he insisted on a third: the Law as guide to holy
living. For Calvin, gratitude to God for love and grace so freely given should
motivate people to love God back, to do things that please God. And what better
guide than God’s laws and Jesus’ teachings, a veritable roadmap to what pleases
God.
In traditional Lutheran liturgy, a summary of the
Law was read prior to the prayer of confession as a reminder of one’s need for
forgiveness and grace. But in Reformed, Presbyterian liturgy, that same summary
of the Law was moved to after the assurance of pardon. You are forgiven,
restored to right relationship with God, and so now follow the law. Live in
ways pleasing to God, ways that shape you for the new life Jesus brings.
God’s love for you is beyond measure. Nothing you
do or fail to do could ever change that. In Christ, God’s heart overflows
in love and grace, forgiving, embracing, calling you a beloved child. And so in
gratitude, seek to show your love for God. Be doers of the word. Care for the
weak and vulnerable in their distress. Love the Lord your God with all your
being, and love your neighbor as yourself so that you may be shaped by the ways
of God’s new day, and become more and more like your brother Jesus.
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