I’m not entirely sure why he didn’t like it, but he didn’t.
Martin Luther, you know…the famous Reformer, the brilliant theologian, the dedicated
translator, commentator, pastor, or as Pope Leo the 10 th called him… “that drunk little
German.”
Martin Luther was not a fan of James. Martin Luther didn’t like the letter of James. He didn’t
want to include it in the canon of scripture. Not sure of all the reasons…I’m sure there were a
few. He called it an “epistle of straw.” But…he still translated it into German, still took the
time, burning the midnight oil, fingertips stained with ink, bent over a desk, a cold wind coming
through the window, he still took the time to translate it into the common tongue of his people.
It’s quite something, really.
James is a tough read, I think. It seems to be pointed to a community of faith facing issues.
Most of them do. But it’s also, in some ways, placed in the genre of Wisdom literature – it’s
tough. You got to wrestle with James. Because I think James wants to wrestle with you.
Especially in passages like this one from chapter 2…we just heard read. It seems there were
people in James’ church who were receiving preferential treatment. Preferential
treatment!
Why? Because they banked at the right place, dressed in the right way, drove the right cars,
lived in the right neighborhood, kids went to the right schools…they would walk into church on
Sunday mornings and evidently there was a lot of…. “Oh! Right this way, sir. Let me get that
door for you.” AND a lot of “Please, please…sit here mam….May I get you anything? A cup of
coffee, a glass of milk, cookie…….Ovaltine?”
Can you believe that!?! People getting that kind of special treatment just because of money.
Can you believe it?!?
And then…the opposite. Someone comin’ in dressed in the same clothes they’d had on for who
knows how long…smelled funny…just as poor as Job’s turkey. And it was a lot of “Excuse me!
Excuse me…this seat is saved…you need to go to the back.”
Can you believe it?!?
And some of you are sitting there going…”Uhhh…yeah. I believe it.”
And you can believe it…because you’ve seen it. Some of you grew up here, some of you
came with your grandparents here….and you remember…long-long time ago…in the old nave,
the old sanctuary….I’m sure some of you can remember. I have been told by a handful of you
that back then the people with money sat in the balcony. And some of you are getting nervous
right now – “what’s he gonna say?” Don’t’ worry. It’s alright. They’re not here anymore. Most
of them crossed the threshold of this life into life eternal…or at the very least became
Methodists.
It's okay. It happened. A lot of churches were like that at one point. It’s the way things were.
And just look…look now where that balcony used to be. Now this beautiful window…nothing
but sun, and sky, and cloud. But there are times. I imagine them still up there. Almost floating,
apparitions dressed in tailored suits and mink furs, peering over the edge of the balcony rail.
Times have changed though…right? I’m not sure many churches are like that now…I don’t
know.
But preferential treatment…it’s around us…in the world…sometimes it seems hard-wired into
the universe – I don’t understand it. One night you could be on social media seeing posts full of
daddies and daughters showcasing at the symphony ball – beautiful young ladies, dressed in
elegant gowns smiling for an adoring crowd…and not an hour later you’re standing behind a girl
the same age, just as beautiful, in a gas station counting out change so she can buy her brothers
and sisters a gallon of milk and a box of cereal for dinner. I don’t understand.
I don’t understand…Because it seems to me someone got preferential treatment from the very
beginning. And I say… “Is that it God? Is that all? Some people get symphony balls and
others gas station parking lots? What am I supposed to do with that?” And I can get confused,
despondent even. Then…then…if I don’t get some cosmic thump on the back of my head…I
can get a gracious, subtle nudge. A reminder. That there are people all around me mustering all
the courage and faithfulness inside them to see the world with what, maybe, we could call a
holy impartiality.
Like yesterday. Our Vestry gathered for a retreat. People who chose to spend their Saturday –
all day, mind you – discerning together, discussing together NOT how certain people get a
special kind of treatment or doing their part in making sure the Joneses still feel like the
Joneses. NO…they sat around tables all day, working together to discover more and more ways
to connect anyone and everyone who walks through our doors to people, to friends, to
ministries, to the love of God.
And today…today is Rally Day. After the service we get to celebrate together, eat together,
listen to music together, learn more about all kinds of ministries together. And there’s no
reserved tables in the parish hall, no places of honor reserved for a select few, no ministry more
special than the next. It is a day for….everybody.
St. Andrew’s we are not a perfect church. There’s always room for change, always space to
grow into the people God calls us to be in this world…of course.
But, I believe with all my heart, the Spirit is at work here.
A few weeks ago, there was a young woman here, she sat right up front – right on the front
row. She was ill, troubled, tired, talking to herself…messy hair, disheveled clothes. I saw
her…and then I saw two of you get up from your pew and move up not one, not two, but three
rows. I saw you sit next to her and smile, then you shared your bulletin with her, and opened
the hymn book and stood close to her, pointing at each of the verses we were singing, I saw you
share the peace with her…and I saw in her something which began to soften and feel
safe…maybe even at home.
And would you believe it…I looked up and saw the balcony crowd in front of the window there
all the suits and dresses…and would you believe it…everyone of them smiling. And standing
next to them and in between all of them were other people – old blind beggars, ladies with
tattered clothes, vagabonds, ragamuffins, the poor, the down-and-out, I think some of them
might have even been the saints of old…all of them looking over the balcony…smiling.
It reminded me of something we say in here every Sunday…you might recognize the words…
Joining our voices with Angels and Archangels and with….all the company of heaven.
….all the company of heaven.
I can’t help but wonder if I would have looked a little longer up there…if I would have even
seen, way in the back, old Martin Luther, with his thick arm thrown around the shoulder of
James.
The two of them laughing at the joy of it all.
Amen.
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