The Straw Letter

9-9-18 (Proper 18/Ordinary 23 B, Semi-Continuous)

James 2:1-17; Mark 7:24-37

The Straw Letter

Last October, we spent a good portion of the month celebrating the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther and the beginnings of the Protestant Reformation.  We explored many of the ideas that fueled Luther’s movement to reform the Catholic church in his time, celebrated our own heritage as Presbyterians, and explored how we as the church are “always reformed, ever reforming according to the word of God.”

One of the things that we didn’t explore very much during that Reformation month was the relationship that Martin Luther had with the letter of James.  Of all the books of the Bible, all the letters in the New Testament, all the myriad works that make up the canon of our scriptures… James was the one that Luther disliked most.  Luther didn’t mince words when it came to this epistle - he called it “the epistle of straw,” suggested removing it from study in Wittenberg as it barely mentions Christ but once, and had even said at one point that “I almost feel like throwing Jimmy into the stove, as the priest in Kalenberg did.”

Luther understood James to be almost in direct opposition to the writings and theology of the apostle Paul - where Paul’s works place an emphasis on grace through faith in Christ, the passage we hear today from James takes a different angle, telling us that “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.”  For Luther, this aversion is understandable - the Catholic church in Luther’s day put such a strong emphasis on performing specific works and “earning” one’s way into Heaven that reading James’ emphasis on living out your faith through righteous deeds might have put a sour taste in anyone’s mouth.

Luther seems to have come around a bit, however, as time went on.  In some of his later writings, including later editions of the very work in which he called James the “epistle of straw,” Luther admitted that he had gone too far - he removed that sentence from his introduction to the New Testament, and in his own preface to this letter, he writes that he considers James to be “a good book, because it sets up no doctrines of men but vigorously promulgates the law of God.”  Luther’s thought it was a good piece of scripture, but that it didn’t have the same weight and importance as other parts of Scripture that spoke more about Christ and the faith to which we are called.  Where Paul emphasized our deepest need to believe in Christ and in the grace which Christ alone provides for us, James speaks of a faith that goes beyond belief and translates into action.

I don’t know that Martin Luther ever fully came to this conclusion - at least, not outright - but I truly think we need both of these perspectives and that we lose out entirely on the full depth of our faith and tradition if we lean too heavily on Paul or James alone to shape our belief and practice.  We need look no further than the Gospels themselves for the proof of this, especially as we approach today’s reading from Mark.  It’s an interesting passage, especially when taken side-by-side with James’ letter.

If we rewind a little bit to where we left off from last week’s reading, you’ll remember that Jesus has just finished some pretty scathing remarks against the Pharisees as he calls out their hypocrisy over some disparaging remarks about hand washing and following the “tradition of the Elders.”  We’ve just heard him talk about how it’s the things that come from within a person that truly defile them.  We’ve heard him chastise the Pharisees for placing a greater emphasis on their own traditions than on truly righteous living.

So when we hear Jesus scorn this Syrophoenician woman and refuse to help her because “it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs,” it should give us pause.  What’s going on here?  Why does Jesus use such a demeaning phrase toward this woman who has come seeking his help?  It’s a jarring moment that many scholars have tried to gloss over by saying that the term Jesus uses is more like calling her a “puppy” or even that Jesus was simply testing the woman’s depth of faith… but I think there’s a simpler explanation that doesn’t require a lot of theological gymnastics to arrive at: Jesus made a mistake, and he got called out on it himself.

Now, perhaps that makes you uncomfortable.  And rightly so - we’ve always been taught in Sunday School that Jesus was perfect - that Jesus doesn’t make mistakes.  It may be challenging, and even a bit heretical, to suggest anything to the contrary… but it also makes sense when we consider the context, the situation, and the culture in which Jesus was raised.  On the one hand, this passage shows us a Jesus who is harried.  He’s ducked into this house seeking a moment of solitude to regather himself and escape notice for a bit, and instead he ends up being further harangued by yet another person who wants him to help her out by casting out a demon from her daughter.  And it’s not just any person, but a Syrophoenician and a woman to boot.  She’s a woman and a Gentile, and in Jesus’ culture that means she already has two strikes against her.  Add in a grumpy Jesus who just wants a little peace and quiet, and… well, what would you do in that situation?  How many times have you lashed out at someone who didn’t deserve it in the least, just because you were having a bad day or you hadn’t even had your first cup of coffee in the morning, and they happened to come into the wrong place at the wrong time?  I’ll be the first to confess - it happens, and we often feel pretty small afterward.

What’s amazing, though, is that Jesus’ terseness with this woman doesn’t deter her.  She’s quick with a response as she reminds him that “even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”  And in that simple, earnest response, Jesus seems to realize his error.  Here he is, having just laid into another bunch of people for being stingy with God’s grace, and yet here he is doing exactly the kind of thing that had made him so angry in the first place.  I can’t help but imagine the Great Shepherd getting a bit of a sheepish look on his face as he looks with new eyes upon the woman before him and tells her “For saying that, you may go - the demon has left your daughter.”

It may be challenging to see Jesus take a slice of humble pie for himself… but at the same time, I find it comforting as well.  If there are times when even Jesus needs to recognize his own privilege and cultural biases, then we can find comfort in knowing that it’s a struggle that all of us face, that all of us need to get better at being more aware of, and that all of us can continue to overcome with humility and grace.  It’s an easy trap to fall into, especially in a time where there are so many things out there right now trying to set us off.  It’s so easy for us to lose sight of the things that matter when we’re constantly bombarded by little detail after little detail.  Just last Sunday, for example, I couldn’t have known how ironic it would be that my sermon title and our church sign said “Just Do It” right before Nike would come into the crosshairs for their new ad campaign - and while I’m amazed that there weren’t calls to the church about this unforeseen coincidence, what amazes me more is the whole can of worms that it has opened up.  While some folks are boycotting the company and destroying their clothing and shoes, others are rushing out to purchase more apparel to show their support.  And all the while, Nike is raking in money using sweatshop labor and exploitative practices to fuel their profits.

Needless to say, today’s passage from James really spoke to me this week.  And it reminds me yet again of how important it is that we take that time to think, to be in prayer and discernment, and to let the Spirit work in us to see the bigger picture of what it is that God wants us to pay attention to as opposed to the multitude of other things that try to pull us away and distract us.  We need to be open to letting ourselves be challenged, and then we need to take the places where we’re being challenged and ask how God is calling us to act on them.  For example, in light of this whole Nike uproar, there are many churches throughout the country who are offering opportunities for folks who are upset about the situation to donate their apparrel instead of destroying it so that it can go to provide much-needed clothing and footwear to folks who are homeless or otherwise in need - many of whom are also often veterans.

      James calls the church out for its preferential treatment of the wealthy over the poor - he points out the times when they saw a person with gold and rings and welcomed them to come sit at the table, all the while telling the people who most needed their compassion to stand to the side or to sit at their feet.  And it makes me wonder - how many times have we seen “dogs” come before us and not even wanted to share crumbs with them, let alone our finest food?  Where are the places where God is calling us to recognize those moments where our actions are not mirroring the faith which we profess?  And how can we work toward bringing those two into better alignment with each other?

Jesus recognized a woman’s need after she was bold enough to persist.  Luther recognized when he had gone too far in criticizing James and was able to find good things in the letter which he wanted to lift up.  May we have the grace, the humility, and the wisdom to know the places where God is calling us to change, as well.  And may we be bold enough to take action on those changes, to see what God is opening our own eyes to, and to follow God wherever that may lead.  To God be the Glory.  Amen.