Pentecost 17 B
James 2:1-5; 8-10; 14-18
10/05/03
A woman called her doctor one morning, complaining that her husband had a snoring problem that kept her awake all night. She asked him if there was anything he could do to help out.
"Well,” he said, “there is an operation I can perform that will cure your husband, but it is really rather expensive. It will cost $10,000 down, and payments of $450 for 24 months."
"Oh my!" the woman exclaimed, "That sounds like leasing a new sports car!"
"Hmm," the doctor murmured, "I guess I was a bit too obvious, huh?"
Some things are rather obvious and can’t be hidden, some things like faith. Perhaps you can recall what happened when the Jewish leaders saw "the boldness of Peter and John" in the days following Pentecost. At first the leaders were confounded by the confidence with which these men carried themselves because they figured them to be "uneducated and untrained." But then they realized who Peter and John really were. They recognized that they had been with Jesus (Acts 4:13).
That’s because a saving faith in Christ Jesus, can’t go unnoticed. It stands out for all to see. It shows itself in its expressions of care, in its deeds of love, in its works of affection; which might well explain why James writes as he does in our text, that “faith without works is dead.” It’s not really faith at all.
Some people say that James and Paul are at odds with each other when Paul writes that “8…it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God-- 9not by works, so that no one can boast.” But their concerns were different. Paul was writing to Christians who were being influenced to believe that they could “work out” their own salvation, when in truth Christ has already worked out our salvation as a gift of grace on the cross that is received by faith. James wouldn’t disagree with Paul about this at all, but he would go on to add that such a saving faith gives itself away. In fact it can’t help it.
You see, James was dealing with a different set of circumstances. He was dealing with people who were developing a rather inactive faith, a superficial kind of Christianity; a people who were being told that they could have a faith in Christ that need not impact their way of life, what they would do, how they would live.
But there is no such thing. By nature saving faith can’t sit still. It must do what is good; so that even someone like Martin Luther, who focused his entire ministry on stamping out the idea that our human works can somehow save us, was willing to express it in his preface to the Romans. “Oh, it is a living, active, energetic, mighty thing, this faith, so that it is impossible that it should not work what is good without intermission. It does not even ask whether good works are to be done, but before one asks it has done them, and is ever doing. But he who does not do such works is a man without faith…” Works do not save, but saving faith will always give evidence of itself and its connection with Christ – in the same way an apple tree distinguishes itself from another – by its fruit.
And this begs the question today, “Is it obvious to folks around you as to why you behave the way that you do? Is it readily apparent to others that you too are someone who "spends a bit of time with Jesus?”?
Clearly, that’s what James wanted his people to consider as he tells a scenario that is likely playing out in many of the congregations to which he is writing. In contemporary terms the story goes like this: A man pulls up to church in a jag. He’s wearing fine clothes, with an heirloom ring on his finger. Immediately after him comes another. It’s more than obvious that he does his shopping at Good Will and Dumpster Dan’s. The usher greets the rich guy with a warm handshake, takes him to the front to introduce him to the pastor, and seats him in the finest seat in the house. But when he sees the other fella, he comments to his neighbor, “Well, hell must have frozen over after all.” Then he goes over to the man and says, “Here. You sit right here in the back next to me where I can keep a good eye on you!”
It hurts doesn’t it? It hurts because while it may be a little exaggerated, it comes pretty close to the truth, and with terrible consequences.
In his autobiography, Mahatma Gandhi wrote that during his student days he read the Gospels and seriously considered converting to Christianity. He believed that in the teachings of Jesus he could find the solution to the caste system that was dividing the people of India. So one Sunday he decided to attend services at a nearby church and talk to the minister about becoming a Christian. When he entered the sanctuary, however, there were people who refused to give him a seat and suggested that he go worship with his own people. Gandhi left the church and never returned, “If Christians have caste differences also,” he said, “I might as well remain a Hindu.” Prejudice not only betrayed Jesus but also turned a person away from trusting Him as Savior. And that’s what troubled James more than anything else.
It’s what troubled a 4th century monk by the name of Telemachus. During Telemachus’ life the gladiatorial games were very popular. People were fascinated by the sight of blood and gore upon the arena floor. And that alone was enough to bring the criticism of bishops and priests from within the church. But worse than all of this was the fact that most of the gladiators who fought in the arena were not there voluntarily. Most were slaves, political prisoners, those considered to be the dregs of the society who were forced to train and fight for their lives for the sheer entertainment of others, many of whom were Christian. Emperor Honorius was well-known as a Christian and yet he sponsored the games and many of his fellow Christians sat in the most prominent seats within the arena.
Telemachus wondered if there could possibly be anything further from the Spirit of Christ than the total disregard for the lives of these men on the part of his fellow believers. So disturbed was he that he felt something had to be done about it. Something more than just words condemning. So he set out for Rome.
When Telemachus entered the city, the people he met had gone mad with excitement. "To the Coliseum!", they cried out. "The games are about to start.!" So Telemachus followed the crowd and was seated among all the other people when the gladiators came out into the center of the arena. Everybody was tense. Everybody was silent as the two men faced each other. The men drew their swords. The fight was about to be on and it was expected that one of them would be dead within minutes.
But at that very moment Telemachus took a fateful action. He rose from his seat and ran down onto the arena floor. Holding high the cross of Christ, he threw himself into a position between the two gladiators and cried, "In the name of our Master, stop fighting!"
The two men put their swords away, but the crowds went wild. Telemachus had robbed them of their bloody entertainment which they were determined to have in one way or another. If it wasn’t going to be the life of one of these men it was going to be the life of the monk. And they took it.
Far down in the arena lay the battered body of the monk. Suddenly the mob and the spectators who had remained in their seats grew quiet. A feeling of revulsion at what had been done swept over them. Emperor Honorius rose and left the Coliseum. The people followed him, and abruptly the games were over. They were really over. In the matter of day Honorius issued an edict. And so it was, that because one individual, filled with the love of Christ, dared to say, "No!", all gladiatorial games ceased.
It cost him his life, but Telemachus got his brothers and sisters in the faith to ask the all important questions. Is your life of faith readily apparent to all you meet? Do they recognize faith’s fruits? Can they see the love of Christ who showed no favoritism, but died for all, in the way you treat and respect everyone? Is it readily apparent to others that you are someone who “spends time with Jesus”? Or is it something else they see?
They’re questions, all of them, that we could very well ask of ourselves; hopefully without the necessity of my dying to get your attention. And, if we’re honest, we ought to come to the same eye-opening conclusion. Our lives are often out of step with the life of love our God has shown toward us by His Son. Unlike our heavenly Father, we have frequently played the game of favorites, valuing some while discounting the lives and the souls of others. It’s our shame.
But now understand it’s also very much our hope today for our Lord and Savior “is” quite “unlike” us. By our own standards we would well expect God to reject us outright, showing favoritism to those whose lives and motives and actions are purer than our own. But in mercy He does no such thing. Everything we saw in Telemachus we see in our Lord Jesus and even more. We see regard for the weak, help for those seeking the healing of their spirit. We see compassion on the lowly, grace for those humble in spirit who despair of trying to cover up their sins with gaudy works of their own righteousness and instead appear before God, counting on His forgiving love. In our Lord Jesus we see that love unconditional for those exposed in their sins.
And that’s what we are. A few years back Life Magazine did a photo essay where they took people from various walks of life, from street people to fortune 500 executives and photographed them undressed except for a bath towel. And you know what? They all basically looked the same.
Which is exactly how it should be, since this is how our Lord sees us too; from the basement apartment to the penthouse view; all of us exposed for who we are and everyone a sinner? Yet he would love us none the less; forgive our faults, fill us with His Spirit, lift us up to be a child of the King of Kings, call us to faith and with that faith He would call us to a new life of love and devotion that reflects His own for us.
It’s what we see by his resolve in the Gospel lesson today. It’s a determination foretold in the OT lesson today that was fulfilled in Christ who without hesitation set himself toward Jerusalem where he knew he would meet more than opposition. He knew he would face His death. But it would be for us and for our salvation.
That’s what our faith and life with Christ are all about. Some people got it all wrong. They think to themselves:
Blow the trump and ring the bell;
Dress it up and make it sell;
Fill it with the rich and well;
And count the heads.
We’re doing well!
But where’s the faith?
Read the creed and get it right;
Hold it fast with all your might;
Close the door and bolt it tight;
We’ve no need for further light!
But where’s the faith?
Build the church and make it grow,
Cushioned pews in classic row;
Made for comfort we love so.
Come in, relax, enjoy the show!
But where’s the faith?
Like James said, that’s a whole lot of religious activity, but it’s not saving relationship of faith with our Lord Jesus Christ. But…
In the sickroom on the bed –
Invalid, helpless, but not dead
Hear her praying through the pain,
"May my suffering be your gain."
There’s the faith.
Here a loving mother gives,
With all the reason that she lives,
To strive against unnumbered odds
And bring her children to know God.
There’s the faith.
’Surprising, isn’t it, where the faith is found;
Not where reigns the world renown,
But in the din of work and strife,
Where the Cross meets daily life.
There’s the faith.
It’s all tied up in Christ and giving itself away in everything we do and say; to his glory and for the salvation of all.
