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Mexicans, Missionaries, Mandarin, and Memphis

God has certainly blessed me by letting me witness the beauty of his church and the love and faithfulness it demonstrates in this world. The kingdom of God is full of cultural diversity and richness that reflects the power, beauty, compassion, and fun of living in the same Spirit for the shared goal of praising God. I first saw this through the work and love of American missionaries in my home congregation in Puebla, Mexico. From my first encounter with Christians, I saw how the love of Christ unites people from different races, cultures, and socio-economic statuses. In Mexico, there tend to be clashes between people of different economic backgrounds. However, I saw how God could bring together a poor single mother praying and growing with a white-collar professional that shares the same struggles and goal—to live for Christ. This purpose is what helped me understand why people would be willing to move to a different country and spread God’s news and love to strangers.

Eventually, I became a missionary too. I moved to China, where I continued witnessing the power of God and the splendor of his kingdom. One thing about China that I found to be very familiar to me is the importance of hospitality. Chinese people, like Mexicans, put a strong emphasis on cooking the best for their guests. Although what constitutes “the best” for one is sometimes another’s stomach nightmare, love and unity is what I saw the most. Turtle or very spicy fish were not my favorite things to eat, but they sure tasted good when the person preparing them was joyfully serving and loving me. Hospitality and food reminded me of a sister in Puebla who prays for her guests as she is cooking a meal (that normally takes 2 to 3 hours to make) for them.

Since returning to the States I’ve been incredibly blessed by living in Memphis, TN. Although Memphis certainly has a bad reputation because of its high levels of crime, I can assure you God is doing powerful things through his people in that city. For example, Chinese immigrants form the Sunday school class that I attend. They try to be a positive influence in Memphis, and continue being involved in spreading the Good News in China through various venues.

Another example of God’s people being humble, faithful vessels in Memphis is HopeWorks. This ministry aims to help the “chronically unemployed” learn how get and keep productive and responsible employment. The students of this program receive Bible, GED, and career development classes, individual and group counseling, internships, hope, and lots of love and support from people in the community that truly want the best for them. I began working in this ministry as a faith encourager, my involvement deepened, and now I’m part of the counseling staff. The servants in this ministry are wonderful examples in my life, and I treasure them with all my heart! Although I can testify to a lot of good things that they do in the name of God, I want to tell you more about a student there, who has become one of our brothers in Christ. He came from another state after being homeless for years. He couldn’t find a job because of his criminal record, and his depression worsened as time went by. One day he decided to search online—“jobs” and “felons”—and he found HopeWorks. Somehow, he was able to put the money together for a bus ticket and decided to get enrolled in the program. Once in Memphis, he walked several miles from the bus station to HopeWorks during a very hot summer day. If you have been in that area during the summer, you know what kind of weather I am talking about. To make a long story short, he was able to start the program, graduated with “best attendance record” (even though he was still living under bridges and in shelters), and eventually found a job that allowed him to serve others. Most importantly, he decided to live for Christ. Today, he is trying his best to spread God’s word and serve as many people as he can. He is a wise, humble, and hardworking man of God.

What do these Mexicans, missionaries, Chinese, and homeless people have in common? The answer includes: being willing to serve our Father; being a blessing to others in God’s name; being faithful and passionate; and being willing to learn from one another, work in unity (despite possible mistakes along the way), and reflect God’s love and presence in a huge variety of ways that only our Father can make possible. God’s children are a beautiful and powerful manifestation of His work and love.

Marisol Rosas is a full-time bilingual counselor working at The Exchange Club Family Center (a non-profit agency in Memphis, TN) and a part-time counselor at HopeWorks. She was born and raised in Puebla, Mexico, completed undergraduate studies at Harding University, was a missionary in China from 2004-2008, and recently graduated with an MA in Counseling from Harding School of Theology.

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The Missional Posture and Our Muslim Neighbors

If nothing else, the meaning of the term “missional” hinges on the idea that mission is always God’s mission, the missio Dei. Mission is not about what we envision and enact in the world for God’s sake or to expand God’s territory, but rather what God wills and what God is doing in the world in anticipation of an open, yet promised future. And we are invited and privileged to collaborate with God and participate in God’s missional purposes. As is often repeated, therefore, a primary requirement of the missional posture is discernment; we are called to have our eyes open and our ears to the ground so that we might perceive God’s presence and calling, and thus position ourselves to be participating vessels and instruments.

Assuming that we can discern something of God’s global calling by reflecting on significant world events, it is hard to ignore the following fact: Many of the most significant geopolitical issues of this era are surfacing along the borders of Islam and Christianity. Religion is not the only relevant category through which to understand geopolitical issues, but Muslim/Christian relations and interactions certainly play a vital role when considering major occurrences in recent decades such as 9/11, the “war on terror,” satirical cartoons of Muhammad in a Danish newspaper and the violent backlash they spurred, Pope Benedict XVI’s Regensburg address in which he made controversial statements about Islam, Christian/Muslim conflicts in places like the Balkans and Nigeria, the Arab Spring, a Christian pastor in Florida publically burning copies of the Koran, the death of Osama bin Laden, and the dramatic growth of Islam worldwide and especially in Europe and North America. These complex and overlapping dynamics are as sensitive as they are unavoidable, and are increasingly important in the global community and in our own backyards. More than acknowledging that these dynamics are newsworthy, however, the missional posture seeks to find in them signs of God’s purposeful presence: What does God desire in these interactions? What is God trying to show us about ourselves and our Muslim neighbors? What might God be calling us to see and to be? How can we participate and contribute?

Unfortunately, the corresponding Muslim/Christian interactions are often about as rational and helpful as what is depicted in the comedy routine between Steve Carell and Stephen Colbert on the Daily Show in which they argue over which religion is better (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32QFWMQzgQ4). Like all good comedy, this piece entertains while it delivers a sharp indictment. It mocks the inappropriate ways Christians and Muslims often employ apologetics or “power encounter” tactics; it belies assumptions that Christian/Muslim interactions must involve political positioning and debates over superiority, or that the primary purpose of interactions is to address conflicting visions of salvation. It also playfully critiques the idea that the only Christian/Muslim alliances that are possible are those built on the shared mistrust of a common opponent (e.g., Jews). As Christians, we need to promote a different posture for Christian reflection and missional engagement with Islam and our Muslim neighbors.

Currently, one of the most significant voices from the Christian side of this engagement, and a voice that represents a more healthy posture, is that of Miroslav Volf of Yale University and Divinity School. Volf is well known for his masterful studies of reconciliation, ecclesiology, and the Trinity, among others. But through his new book, Allah: A Christian Response (HarperOne, 2011), Volf turns his attention to Muslim/Christian relationships and interactions. Specifically, he addresses a question that is relevant for many of our century’s most sensitive geopolitical concerns: Do Muslims and Christians worship the same God? Volf acknowledges that this may not be the most important question to ask, but it is certainly one of the most common and is, therefore, a good place to start. From this starting point, he explores both the remarkable similarities between the faith and practice of the two religious communities (they are, he suggests, “sufficiently similar” to claim that mainstream Muslims and Christians do, in fact, worship the same God), as well as the significant and irreducible differences between the two (what he calls “rival versions of the Master of the Universe”). He then is able to explore and assess the theological, political, and existential implications of the issues, highlighting what he finds to be opportunities for more peaceful engagement, as well as opportunities for authentic Christian mission. Volf’s views will certainly produce much discussion and debate, but in the pluralistic world in which we find ourselves, his voice is an important one as we strive to live and serve in ways which are faithful to Christ.

Recently, at Rochester College’s Center for Missional Leadership, we hosted Professor Volf as part of our annual Streaming Conference, and he presented his material from Allah. As part of the program, we also practiced the kind of dialog promoted in the book by organizing a panel discussion between Volf and two other special guests: Saeed Khan, a Muslim scholar and commentator from Wayne State University in Detroit, and Mark Kinzer, a Messianic Jewish rabbi and scholar from Ann Arbor, Michigan. The discussion not only probed and critiqued some of Volf’s materials, but it humanized the whole issue as we struggled with each other on a few points, laughed together on some others, and forged relationships that will extend beyond the discussion.

Some immediate outcomes of the panel discussion include the following: Two audience members, one Muslim and one Christian, discovered their shared backgrounds in South Africa and went to lunch after the conference and are now keeping in touch with one another; two other participants, again one Muslim and one Christian, discovered that their daughters attended the same local high school and made plans to get their families together for dinner; two of the panelists (myself and Saeed Khan) will be co-teaching a class at Rochester College this fall on “Christian/Muslim Interactions” using Volf’s book as the text; and there are already plans to reassemble the panelists (including Volf) to continue this discussion next summer at the Christian Scholars Conference at Lipscomb University. These are just a few examples of the missional interactions which developed and were nurtured as a result of the panel discussion.

The link below features a sampling of the panel discussion. Beyond being merely a fascinating dialog, it offers an invitation into discernment processes for one of the most important missional issues of our time.

God is moving and calling. Are our eyes and ears open?

Rochester College has graciously made available a taste of the discussion surrounding Dr. Volf’s book: http://photos.rc.edu/2010-2011/events/Streaming11/17132702_4B439z#1370817846_XBMvQ6m-M-LB

(One can order the materials from the Streaming Conference by contacting Phebe Dollan at pdollan@rc.edu).

John Barton is currently the Provost at Rochester College in Rochester Hills, Michigan. He and his family lived and worked in Jinja, Uganda, East Africa, from 1994 to 2002 as part of a church-planting mission team. While in Uganda, John completed a Ph.D. in philosophy at Makerere University in Kampala. His special areas of interest include African Philosophy, inter-cultural and inter-religious dialog, and reconciliation studies. Recent publications include articles in Philosophia Africana, Restoration Quarterly, and Missiology (forthcoming).

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The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Scott Momaday, American Indian writer, professor of literature in Southern California, tells this story. When he was a small boy, his father woke him early in the morning and said, “I want you to get up and go with me.” His father took him by the hand and led him, sleepily, to the house of an old squaw, and left him saying, “I’ll get you this afternoon.” All day long the old squaw of the Kiowa tribe told stories to the boy, sang songs, described rituals, told the history of the Kiowa. She told the boy how the tribe began out of a hollow log in the Yellowstone river, of the migration southward, the wars with other tribes, the great blizzards, the buffalo hunt, the coming of the white man, the starvation, the diminished tribe, and finally, reservation, confinement. About dark his father came and said, “Son, it’s time to go.” Momaday said, “I left her house a Kiowa.”

Fred Craddock tells that story and then asks the question, “When youngsters leave our church building, do they leave Christian? To be Christian is to be enrolled in a story, and anybody who can’t remember any farther back than his or her birth is an orphan.”1

An orphan is anyone who doesn’t have a story.

If I’ve learned anything in the ten years I’ve given to ministry, it’s this: Because we are narrative creatures, our primary orientation in identity is inextricably linked to the narratives that comprise our memories, conversations, and emotional responses. To say it plainly: We are the stories we tell ourselves.

A cursory consideration of modern life in America underscores this point. We are the stories we tell ourselves.

There are multiple divisions within the American political arena offering fundamentally different narratives.

Northerners scoff at Southern racism as if racism is only a Southern problem.

Muslims are treated as terrorists even though most Muslims are peaceful and honorable people (Muslims and Christians make up half the world’s population—we have to learn to live together).

Local churches wage wars between ministry teams, elder boards, and laity regarding the role of women because of generational and interpretive stories undergirding the entire debate. Unspoken stories are the most dangerous.

Family systems are held hostage by individual family members who are unable or unwilling to tell truthful memories.

Hundreds of pastors were willing to throw Rob Bell (author of Love Wins) under the bus (tweeting “farewell”) before they even knew the story Bell was telling himself and others. Why? Because they had already constructed a story about their own theology and Bell’s theology, and in that story there’s only room for the one true story—the story they’re selling.

We are the stories we tell ourselves. We become the stories we privilege.

Flannery O’Connor—a required reference in any presentation dealing with the power of story—never said that “we are the stories we tell ourselves.” She actually said it better. She wrote, “It takes a story to make a story.”2 Leave it to the preacher to complicate what the writer already settled concretely.

It takes a story to make a story. How significant is it that Scripture, which the church believes possesses the sacred words of God, comes to us primarily in narrative form (not formulas, doctrinal proofs, or diatribe).

If this is true then Scot McKnight’s suggestions in his provocative commentary on James cannot be ignored.3 His work is dynamite. I don’t mean “awesome”—I mean his work is going to literally rearrange some stuff; it’s going to remind us of the power of the church’s witness in local communities. The church isn’t simply about reforming individual components of culture, we exist to bear witness to the truth that when God raised Jesus from the dead God definitively dealt with sin, death, shame, injustice, oppression—God has dealt with the dead parts of our story.

As I read Scot McKnight’s recent commentary on James, I was taken with the following observations: (1) James is Torah in a new key. That is, James is to the Sermon on the Mount what the Sermon on the Mount is to Torah. James is wiki-version of Torah. (2) James read Torah like his brother. He read Torah through the interpretive texts of Deut. 6:5 and Lev. 19:18—loving God and loving others. Some, including McKnight, have helpfully coined this The Jesus Creed.4 All of us privilege certain texts over other texts. How are you working the texts? What texts do you privilege? If you aren’t sure, I bet your congregation knows.

Case Study: Otter Creek Church

My assignment as preacher is to demonstrate what it means for the preacher to be the local theologian; the resident interpreter of the intersection of Jesus’ life on earth and the local church. Specifically, I want to use my current context, the Otter Creek Church in South Nashville, as a case study of sorts. I’m trying to do what Miroslav Volf calls, “remembering rightly.”5

Background: Otter Creek is a large, mostly-white, well-educated, affluent Church of Christ located in one of the wealthiest counties in the United States (Williamson County). How do I say this politely—I don’t think James would have applied for the Senior Minister position, nor do I think the search team would have put him at the top of their prospective candidate list.

Right now, someone’s thinking: “What does that say about you, Josh?”

My only response is that when it comes to the Sermon on the Mount, James, the kingdom of Jesus, and our own individual lives—we’re all hypocrites; we all fall miserably short. However, I’m learning to see the world, as Jews have historically believed, that God’s more interested in me as part of a community. South Africans have famously adopted the belief in Ubuntu—a person is a person through other persons. For my purposes, I’d say it like this: my story is a story because it’s part of a bigger story. When I read the story of Otter Creek Church, not Josh Graves, alongside the teachings of James, a different picture emerges. Maybe that’s a take-away for preachers and pastors—we’ve got to get our people to stop thinking about the kingdom in terms of their individual lives (successes or failures). We need to help our churches see their story as part of a great, big story.

This is an exercise in remembering rightly.

I could ask Mrs. Campbell who, in 1929, saw that several children in her immediate neighborhood lacked a community of faith. She felt compelled to do something. She did what any smart wife would do—she enlisted her husband, a bus driver, to round up all the children so they could share stories about Jesus. Two things got into the DNA of Otter Creek Church—a healthy respect for the vision and leadership of women and a passion for those, in the neighborhood, who are most vulnerable to being story-less; orphans in the spiritual sense. This acute awareness of something being wrong is the birth of the Otter Creek Church. I imagine a conversation with Mrs. Campbell might go like this:

Josh: Mrs. Campbell, what part of James moves you the most?

Mrs. Campbell: For Mr. Campbell, I like 1:19: “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.” These two passages spoke to me in those early years: 1:26 “As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead” and 4:13 “Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why? What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that’ . . . Anyone, then, who knows the good she ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins,” (4:13-15, 17).

If I asked Ruth Rucker, founder of Otter Creek’s first pre-school and kindergarten (one of Nashville’s first schools of its kind started at a time when it was controversial in the U.S. to educated children prior to the first grade), about James, I suspect the conversation might take this course:

Josh: Mrs. Rucker, what part of James moves you the most?

Mrs. Rucker: 3:1ff.: “Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.”

If I asked the group of men and women who started Korea Christian College after the Korean War because they wanted the kingdom of God to be the last word and not the gun—if I asked them what part of James inspires them, I suspect they might suggest 3:17-18: “But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace raise a harvest of righteousness.” Or, they might highlight 3:9: “With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God’s likeness” (sounds like Gen. 1 and the imago Dei pillar of the Jesus Creed).

Bono said we should pay attention to our enemies, for enemies last longer than friends.

By the way, Korean Christian University was recently appraised to be worth just shy of one billion dollars. Their potential for kingdom impact in Seoul and beyond is limitless: “a harvest of righteousness.”

If I sat down with those families from Otter Creek who started AGAPE, one of the largest not-for-profit adoption and counseling justice ministries in Churches of Christ, I suspect they might say that their place in James is 2:18-19: “But someone will say, ‘You have faith; I have deeds.’ Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by what I do. You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that—and shudder.” Someone else would certainly add 2:27: “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”

If I sat down with Deby Samuels and Father Charlie Strobel as Otter Creek and a few other churches first launched Room in the Inn, one of the largest holistic homeless ministries in the South and asked them what texts in James fueled their fire, I suspect they might respond, “That’s easy. 5:1-8: ‘Now listen, you rich people, weep and wail because of the misery that is coming upon you. Your wealth has rotted, and moths have eaten your clothes. Your gold and silver are corroded. Their corrosion will testify against you and eat your flesh like fire. You have hoarded wealth in the last days. Look! The wages you failed to pay the workmen who mowed your fields are crying out against you. . . . You have lived on earth in luxury and self-indulgence. You have fattened yourselves in the day of slaughter. You have condemned and murdered innocent men, who were not opposing you.”

If I interviewed Otter Creek stalwarts Dr. Jerry and Sandy Collins, co-founders of the Wayne Reed Center—a school led by women with the intention of reaching Nashville’s poorest 2-5 year olds (and their parents) what texts in James give them hope on gloomy days, I’m sure they’d say, “5:1-8: ‘Now listen, you rich people. . . .”

We are the stories we tell ourselves. The Otter Creek story, like James, is a wiki version of the Jesus Story.

It takes a story to make a story. The Otter Creek Story started with a visionary woman with a heart for the vulnerable in her neighborhood. And that story was replicated because we are the stories we tell ourselves. These early stories have become newer stories: Made in the Streets (an outreach to holistically change the lives of street kids in Nairobi) and Living Water (planting 25 water wells all over the world in 2011). As one of my mentors likes to say, “What you win them with is often what you win them to,”—I suspect that’s true in all of our communities of faith.

What kind of stories shapes the identity of your congregation? Of course, we’re like any church. We’ve got our crazy aunts, weird uncles, and immature family members, but the larger church is being shaped by the stories we tell ourselves.

We are the people who get on a bus on a Sunday morning because God gave us children to save us from ourselves.

We are the people who believe that the imagination of a child is sacred.

We are the people who believe that God is turning swords into plowshares and preparing fields of inquiry and wisdom in the university setting.

We are the people who believe that God has no step-children and that the greatest response to the abortion epidemic in the West is not picketing or politics but adoption.

We are the people who believe that Jesus is found among the homeless; the poorest and most vulnerable among us.

We are the people that believe it’s insane for a rich white church to educate their own and not also seek to bless others as God spoke to Abraham in the beginning.

Chutzpah

The fundamental challenge of leadership (here’s my fundamentalist statement for the day) is not about getting everyone in our churches to believe the right things. Nor is it to get everyone to have the same passion for justice. The fundamental challenge of leadership is to instill and cultivate a prophetic imagination. After all, doctrine and work won’t move us further into the kingdom. It’s not about believing or doing. It’s about sight. Can we see as Jesus saw?

Can we see the gay community as another group we’ve loved to hate instead of Jesus’ command to love others as our test of how much we love God? Can we see the single mother? Can we see our Muslim neighbors? Can we see the family paralyzed by addiction and secrets?

One of my teachers at Columbia Seminary, Barbara Brown Taylor, tells the story of a student in a class who bore a tattoo that simply read, “And.” When Taylor saw this tattoo after class, she asked her student, “And. And what?”

“Oh this?” she said pointing to her tattoo. “It’s part of an experiment. Actually, a living novel project. “

“Huh” responded Taylor.

“Many of us have a favorite author. He created the living novel project. He’s recruiting people to take one word and tattoo it on their body.”

“And this means something to you?” Taylor asked.

“Yes. It means a lot. I don’t have to bear the whole story. I just have to bear one word.” Taylor goes on to say that she loves the idea of God as this particular author. The author looks around, knowing he’s given each person one word. Just one word to bear before the world’s eyes.

What’s your word?

I’ll never forget Dr. Loren Siffring, over French toast and chocolate milk, telling me that my word was “truth-seeker.” You can’t overestimate how important it is for a young man to be spoken to in that way.

I think this is how God works. I think this is how we appropriate James in our cities. It takes a story to make a story. We are the stories we tell ourselves.

Don’t get me wrong. James cares about belief (the entire letter is an ethical treatise). James also cares about action (assuming you’ve read it, I don’t have to elaborate). But what James is most interested in is neither belief nor action. James is most interested in convincing you that the God who spoke to Abraham; who spoke to Jacob who spoke to Moses who spoke to Deborah who spoke to Esther who spoke to Isaiah; who spoke to Mary; who spoke to Jesus; who spoke to Paul; who spoke to Luke; who spoke to James—the same God is speaking.

And when this God speaks, new worlds form and old worlds fade away.

And that will radically mess with the way you see God’s world.

While so many of us in the U.S. spend our time obsessed with what CNN/FOX are saying; what Rush or Colbert think—can we, the baptized community, recognize that the bankrupt stories of nationalism, consumerism, and competition are stories not worth telling ourselves?

Because we are the stories we tell ourselves.

Do we believe it? . . . is a decent question.

Do we live it? . . . is a good question.

Do we see it? . . . is a great question.

May Father God, who loves stories, name us.

May Brother Jesus show us our role in the plot.

May the Spirit aid us in faithful improvisation of the kingdom on its way.

Amen.

Josh Graves is the preaching and teaching minister for the Otter Creek Church in Nashville, Tennessee. He is author of The Feast: How to Serve Jesus in a Famished World (Leafwood, 2009). In addition to other articles and essays, he also wrote the study guide for Mere Discipleship (Brazos Press, 2008). Josh speaks at churches and conferences all around the United States. He is currently a doctoral student at Columbia Seminary, studying the relationship of postmodernism and Christianity. Josh is married to Kara—the daily source of joy in his life and the real theologian in the family. They have one son, Lucas. You can read his blog at http://joshuagraves.com.

1 Fred Craddock, “Preaching as Storytelling: How to Rely on Stories to Carry Spiritual Freight,” Preaching Today, http://www.preachingtoday.com/skills/2005/august/132—craddock.html.

2 Flannery O’Connor, Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose, ed. Sally and Robert Fitzgerald (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1969), 202.

3 Scot McKnight, The Letter of James, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011).

4 Scot McKnight, The Jesus Creed: Loving God, Loving Others (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2004).

5 Miraslov Volf, The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in a Violent World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006).

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Talking with James

[Reading: James 1:22-27]

Be doers of the word,

Not hearers only

who deceive themselves.

For if any are hearers of the word

and not doers,

they are like those

who glance at themselves in a mirror;

walk away,

and immediately forget

what they look like.

But those who gaze into the perfect law,

the law of liberty,

and persevere,

Become not hearers who forget

but doers who act—

they will be blessed in the doing.

If anyone thinks he or she religious,

and does not bridle the tongue

that heart is deceived

that religion is worthless.

Religion ~

pure and undefiled

before God, the Father,

is this:

to care for orphans in their troubles

to take the side of widows’ in their distress

thus keeping yourself

unstained from the world.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … …

How ironic ~

to have someone like me ~

a rhetorician ~

assigned a text like this.

A rhetorician ~

who specializes in words ~

handling a pericope that claims:

  • “Words are not enough”
  • That “Genuine faith is . . .

. . . faith that works”

How ironic to have someone like me ~

a Church of Christ preacher ~

assigned a text like this.

A Church of Christ preacher

who cut his teeth on

  • 2 Sunday sermons (AM and PM)
  • Sunday School
  • and mid-week classes,
  • not to mention seasonal duties

with Ladies Bible Class

  • and if things go well ~

“here’s another

Sunday AM sermon to deliver.”

  • Which is to say ~
  • I spent all my time
  • talking
  • or preparing to talk.

James seems to have little taste

for all that talking.

How ironic

~ for one not endowed with the “gift of gab”

~ Bothered by the odors

of hospitals and nursing homes

~ and taught from his youth up

  • that city streets ~
  • with their taverns and clubs ~
  • were temptations to be avoided

How ironic to hand this text

to someone like me.

And, how ironic for a group like us

to be considering a text like this:

We who were part of the 1980s television studio audience

on the gospel program:

“Discovering Grace”

when Paul and James

were the last two left on the island ~

and we voted James and his “faith + works”

off the island

  • for his bad theology
  • and vowed never again

to preach from that book ~

  • a vow every grace – oriented

Church of Christ preacher has kept.

There’s great irony

for us today

to take up this pericope.

Though I must say ~

I am not opposed to this text.

Quite the opposite ~

As a rhetorician ~ I am attracted

to this passage’s particular form ~

its arrangement ~

its dispositio

its mini chiasm ~

its useful inclusio ~

what undergrads like to call

a “sandwich.”

I’m referring, of course,

to this passage’s

A B A′ pattern:

A: “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only”

B: Metaphor of mirror and forgetting

A′: “Be not hearers who forget

but doers who act”

“Doers and not hearers only” (A and A′)

are the bread in this sandwich,

the inclusio’s frame

And the mirror metaphor

in the middle

is the mesquite smoked BBQ meat

Compress the sandwich ~

and out oozes true religion:

Assisting orphans and widows

in their distress ~

thus keeping oneself

unstained from the world.

Much like the sandwich

near the end of Mark’s gospel ~

where the cursed and withering fig tree

are the framing pumpernickel

in that sandwich

while the temple’s overturned

money changers’ tables ~

the corned beef in the middle.

Compress that sandwich

and out oozes true religion for Jesus

~ prayer, faith, and forgiveness.

Rhetoricians ~

find this intriguing ~

attracted to the pericope’s form . . .

because . . . this form

so effortlessly

with such ease,

carries it’s content

and emphasizes its meaning.

You can’t miss it.

How could anybody miss it?

And the powerful little metaphor ~

~ the mirror ~

~ what’s not to like?

It stirs every homiletic mind

although James’ mirror ~

is not the Carnival mirror

that distorts:

fattens,

shortens,

or elongates,

anything to provide relief from reality.

Nor will you find James’ mirror

at Rochester Hills Mirror and Glass,

which features designs

to make the room look deeper,

or accent the finest furnishings,

or allow you to keep

an eye on the children

from any room in the home.

The mirror in James has a different purpose ~

This polished bronze

is used for personal inspection

and adornment ~

grooming,

dressing,

applying,

adjusting,

and checking ~

You glance ~

it’s momentary and fleeting.

You glance ~

it’s casual and hasty.

You glance ~

and you walk away

already forgetting what you saw ~

forgetting who you are.

James’ mirror is a useful mirror ~

meant for adjusting and applying

helpful and necessary ~

but with one fundamental problem ~

The problem of the metaphor . . .

is with us ~

we, who “catch a glimpse”

and then forget our essential identity.

Objective rhetoricians approve of this

stout,

powerful,

hard working metaphor ~

the mirror.

How it teaches,

how it instructs.

But for those of us who have

a subjective connection

to the world James envisions

A lingering worry begins to throb ~

what have we forgotten?

Some rhetoricians

(should I say, the sophists among us)

Immediately want to distract us . . . .

find another appealing element

in the metaphor ~

its potential for humor.

You look in the mirror

immediately forget what you see

Oh! Forgetting has lots

of funny possibilities.

Especially if you have a

comfortable,

middle aged

well-healed audience:

this passage has comic potential.

Captured in Billy Collins’ poem “Forgetfulness”1

which begins:

“The name of the author is the first to go

followed obediently by the title,

the plot,

the heartbreaking conclusion,

the entire novel

which suddenly

becomes one you have never read,

never even heard of,

as if,

one by one,

the memories you used to harbor

decided to retire

to the southern hemisphere of the brain,

to a little fishing village

where there are no phones. . .

with those who have forgotten how to swim,

even forgotten how to ride a bicycle.”

Which is enough to cause James

to step out of the pages

and look the sophist in the eye and say ~

“Stop dancing with this verse

Don’t use this text

as part of your stand up routine.”

James says to all of us,

“‘Forgetting’ isn’t a humorous topic.

Your light heartedness

only prevents you

from taking me seriously.

“There was nothing funny

When I asked, ‘who are you?’

and you replied,

‘I forget.’

That’s not funny!”

James is right.

Forgetting is a chronic problem in the Bible

and addressed with stern warnings

Especially troublesome

when we forget

the paradigmatic message of Scripture.

Don’t forget that when

we were slaves to Pharaoh,

the Lord brought us out from Egypt

with a mighty hand”

“Beware, lest you forget,

and when you have eaten and are satisfied,

and move into the best neighborhoods

and build large cathedrals

and assemble attractive people

that you think,

“by Our power

and by the strength of Our hands

We have made this wealth”

Biblical forgetting

Is not the funny kind of forgetting

about which

wealthy 50-somethings

elbow one another.

So, James leads us back to the mirror

And says,

“Quit talking about how I said it,

Take a good hard look at what I said”

So we lean over and look in . . . .

Now not glancing but gazing.

The mirror

that once reflected

our ears and brows and nose ~

This mirror has changed

and now it’s become the perfect law ~

the law of liberty.

And James says, “Take a good hard look”

and we peer into the law

and the prophets

and the writings ~

James says, “Do you see your crop of Barley?”

(we nod)

“When you reap your harvest and leave a sheath

Don’t go back and get it ~

It shall be for the alien, orphan and widow.”

(We scrutinize and examine this picture)

James says, “Look at your orchard”

(we look at our olive grove)

“when you beat your olive tree

don’t go over the boughs again

It shall be for the alien, orphan and widow”

(We inspect this image)

James says, “Consider your vineyards”

(we look)

“when you gather your grapes

don’t harvest a second time

It shall be for the alien, orphan and widow”

(We contemplate, deliberate and remember)

“We were once slaves in the land of Egypt”

We mull this over. We meditate.

We say,

“This is how God treated us

this should be how

we treat the poor

and the marginalized.”

We think about it,

think it over,

think it through.

We say,

This is our single defining characteristic ~

to be like God

who cares for

the endemically impoverished”

James says,

“You’re right!

Now, weigh it

rehearse it

start to train in it

“Until you’ve learned it by heart,

transformed in the process,

remembering and becoming, again,

Who you are:

Caring for the marginalized in their distress,

thus keeping yourselves

unstained by the world.”

This is what we’d forgotten.

And, I don’t know why.

Was it our affluence?

What created our amnesia?

With Peter Wagner, we had dreamed a church

  • Where Nicodemas ~ of John 3 vintage ~

is the lead elder

  • and Pilate uses his influence

to support important church projects,

  • where we believe

there is a way to “win Herod” for Christ.

In this church of our dreams

  • we are on a first name basis with

the Governor

  • we’re asked to give the invocation

at the century club

  • And we believe Billy Graham

Is having a good influence

on Richard Nixon.

But James de-constructs

this dangerous make-believe world.

James rebukes

those who favor the rich over the poor

“into your assembly struts a man

with gold rings and fine clothing

at the same time in shuffles a poor man

in shabby dress” ~

and you say to the rich man:

“have the seat of honor”

and to the poor man,

“make yourself scarce”?

James says,

“that’s not how God judges!”

[2:1-7]

James insists on helping the needy

“don’t say to the marginalized ~

Persons without clothing and food ~

‘go in peace, be warm and filled.’ ~

do something!”

[2:14-16]

Then James takes the microphone

and addresses Nicodemas and Pilate

and looks us in the eye,

taking his cue from Jesus, he says

  • “your riches will rot,
  • your garments will be eaten by moths,
  • your gold and silver will rust!”

He asks:

“Are you paying a living wage

  • to the ones who launder your clothes
  • who mow your lawns?

God listens to them!

God hears their cries for justice!”

[5:1-6]

When we voted James

off the island

We were voting

Jesus off, too.

Five years ago

The Sermon on the Mount

was the theme for the 2006

Sermon Seminar2

held in this building

with plenary addresses

from the provocative

Stanley Hauerwas, Warren Carter and others.

It was a disturbing conference

because of the way we read the Sermon on the Mount

envisioned a real world

that invited us to enter ~

and live

and we were threatened.

At the close one preacher confessed,

“I need to throw away all the sermons

I’ve ever preached on the Sermon on the Mount” ~

so unsettling was our new understanding.

But the strongest comment

came during the evaluation meeting

weeks later.

Larry Stephens

one of a dozen who met

to critique logistics of the event ~

opened that meeting

with this engaging question:

“Friends, what are we to do

with the Sermon on the Mount?

Seriously.

What are we to do?

I mean, are we supposed to sell

our church buildings

and give the proceeds to the poor?”

which triggered one person

amongst the 12

to make a sound ~

interpreting Larry’s remark

as a joke.

But Larry struck again,

“I’m serious.

How does God want us to live?”

Five years ago we took Larry seriously ~

but pushed his question

into the theoretical realm.

Five years later ~

his question is only

the first in a series of sound alternatives

~ and live options

for a people

who are ready

to take seriously

the paradigmatic

narratives of Scripture

and proclaim ~

that true religion is simply this ~

care as God cares for the marginalized.

Why?

Because this is how we’ve been treated.

Because this is how God acts.

This is who we are.

But, the greatest irony of our day ~

is that everyone ~

except, it seems,

for some Christian conservatives ~

Everyone seems to know

that true religion

means to help those on the margins

  • It’s the singular message of so much popular non fiction for example the New York Times decade long bestselling Nickel and Dimed
  • It’s the sub plot of so much popular film, for example the gripping drama currently airing on Masterpiece Theatre
  • It’s even in the caustic message of the atheist blogger in last month’s Holy week missive and a million other persons

and organizations that “know” ~

if not the exact words ~

at least the spirit

of Jesus’ damning message to the hypocrites:

  • “You tithe mint, dill, and cumin,
  • but neglect the weightier matters of the law . . . .
  • justice, mercy, and faithfulness.”

All the world seems to know

that the essential factor

in God’s judgment of humankind

will be our answer to 1 question:

did you clothe the naked,

feed the hungry,

visit the imprisoned . . .

in a word . . .

did you care for the

marginalized?

You are your congregation’s rhetorician

You are the one with persuasive skills.

You have words, like James,

with focus and function

to describe our essential humanity

our basic identity

Or, as James phrases it: “their true religion”

You are your community’s resident theologian

Connecting identity with opportunity

To lead your people

into the world Scripture envisions

where true religion is simply this ~

Not just to say,

Not just to know,

But to care as God cares

for the marginalized.

Because this is who you are,

ready for any situation that arises:

“The courtroom walls are bare and the prisoner wears

a plastic bracelet, like in a hospital.

Jesus stands beside him.

The bailiff hands the prisoner a clipboard and he puts his thumbprint on the sheet of white paper.

The judge asks,

What is your monthly income? Hundred dollars.

How do you support yourself? Carpenter, odd jobs.

Where are you living? Friend’s garage.

What sort of vehicle do you drive? I take the bus.

How do you plead? Not guilty. The judge sets bail

and a date for the prisoner’s trial, calls for the interpreter

so he may speak to the next prisoners.

In a good month I eat, the third one tells him.

In a bad month I break the law.

The judge sighs. The prisoners

are led back to jail with a clink of chains.

Jesus goes with them. More prisoners

are brought before the judge.

Jesus returns and leans against the wall near us,

gazing around the courtroom. The interpreter reads a book.

The bailiff, weighed down by his gun, stands

with arms folded, alert and watchful.

We are only spectators, careful to speak

in low voices. We are so many. If we—make a sound,

the bailiff turns toward us, looking stern.

The judge sets bail and dates for other trials,

bringing his gavel down like a little axe.

Jesus turns to us. If you won’t help them, he says

then do this for me. Dress in silks and jewels,

and then go naked. Be stoic, and then be prodigal.

Lead exemplary lives, then go down into prison

and be bound in chains. Which of us has never broken a law?

I died for you-a desperate extravagance, even for me.

If you can’t be merciful, at least be bold.

The judge gets up to leave.

The stern bailiff cries, “All rise.”3

How will we respond?

Will we have the courage

to speak like James:

to act like God?

Is there hope?

Absolutely!

For . . .

“Every good thing bestowed

and every perfect gift is from above,

Coming down from the father of lights

With whom there is no variation

and no shifting shadow.”

[Benediction: James 1:17]4

David Fleer is Professor of Bible and Communication and Special Assistant to the President at Lipscomb University and adjunct Professor for the DMin program at Abilene Christian University (annual summer cycle courses). For the last six years he has served as advisory board chair for the Christian Scholars’ Conference. His teaching focus is homiletics, and for twelve years he directed the Sermon Seminar in Rochester and Nashville and now oversees Lipscomb’s Preaching Workshop. From 1995 to 2007, Fleer was Professor of Religion and Communication at Rochester College. He has published articles in peer reviewed scholarly and popular journals and initiated extensive collaborative editing projects resulting in fifteen books and four journal issues in the last decade. He has been active on the editorial boards of Leaven (since its inception in 1990) and Restoration Quarterly. Most recently, he edited and contributed to Corageous Compassion: A Prophetic Homiletic in Service to the Church (ACU Press, 2011).

1 Billy Collins, “Forgetfulness,” Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems (New York: Random House, 2002), 29.

2 The Rochester Sermon Seminar (1998-2007) was the predecessor to the Streaming conference.

3 Debra Spencer, “At the Arraignment,” in Pomegranate (Santa Cruz, CA: Hummingbird Press, 2004).

4 Luke Johnson notes that this verse “was such a favored text through the entire Eastern tradition that one is not surprised that in the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom as it is celebrated to this day, James 1:17 is the last citation from Scripture heard by the worshippers before leaving the liturgical assembly” (Luke Timothy Johnson, The Letter of James, Anchor Bible Commentary [New Haven: Yale University Press], 204-205). That was enough reason to allow this verse to have the final word in this sermon. Johnson proved an invaluable conversation partner in initiating exegetical trajectories in the sermon’s development.

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Thoughts on the ‘Missional Manifesto’

The Missional Manifesto1 is a statement from one group of Christian leaders describing themselves with the term missional. I have read works by several of the authors, for whom I have great respect. They are each thought-leaders in their own spheres of influence. The Manifesto comes as welcome clarification of what this significant group of leaders means when it uses the term missional.

The term missional can be confusing because of its similarity to the terms missions and missionary. There is much overlap and shared theology and history with overseas missions. Both, for example, see Christians as entering a non-Christian culture to spread the Word of God. But overseas missions is not the focus of the Missional Manifesto.

Those aligning with the Missional Manifesto do see themselves entering a non-Christian environment, but that environment is North America as much as any place else. Whereas overseas missionaries are sent abroad, the Missional Manifesto says Christians are sent on a mission from God wherever that leads, whether in one’s home country or abroad as a missionary.

The key phrase in the Manifesto, but not original to it, is this:

Although it is frequently stated “God’s church has a mission,” according to missional theology, a more accurate expression is “God’s mission has a church.”

By inverting the relationship between God’s mission and God’s church, mission is larger than the church. God’s mission includes his work in the world outside the church, such as nature itself. The church is a tool for achieving God’s mission.

For those from the heritage of the Restoration Movement, such an inversion is both startling and welcome.

We may find the Manifesto startling because Restoration Movement thinkers, ministers, and members have often equated the kingdom of God with God’s church. If one is in the kingdom, one is in the church; and vice versa. The church for us—and the restoration of church worship and organization to what is seen in the primitive church of the First Century—was the climax of the story. Our goal was to restore the church.

Now the Missional Manifesto challenges us to think that God’s purposes are larger than the church. Which, if true, means our vision has been narrower than we thought. We thought our focus on matters of ecclesiology were all encompassing. The Missional Manifesto suggests our focus was important but not ultimate.

But even with its challenges the Missional Manifesto can still be refreshing to those of Restoration Movement heritage. It roots its theology in God and his work in Christ. It is a clarion call to seek the truth in the Bible, not in our experience alone. These have been flagship doctrines of Restoration churches, and the Manifesto affirms them clearly.

The Manifesto also affirms what we have typically called evangelism, a notion that has always played a vital role in our self-understanding. The missional view of evangelism is broader than mere baptizing of individuals. This, too, should be welcome to Restoration churches because we have (with notable exceptions) typically sought to grow members in their faith after their initial conversion.

And I think the Restoration Movement has a word of advice for the authors of Missional Manifesto. Our heritage has been anti-creedal. For good reason. We expect every individual to explore the Bible to find God’s will. Creeds, in our experience, typically begin as rallying cries around a noble cause (read: manifesto). However, creeds over time exclude as much as they include. Creeds, by their very nature, can be used to draw people together or push people away. As long as the Manifesto remains an attempt to clarify, it has great value. If and when it becomes a measure of faithfulness, then it has become something it does not currently want to be.

Mark Parker is the Director of Admissions of Harding School of Theology. He was a missionary to Zagreb, Croatia from 1991-1996. Mark has completed an MDiv and an DMin (ABD) at Harding School of Theology. He is married and is currently raising two dozen rose bushes and two boys. His personal website is http://realspirituality.org. Follow him on twitter at http://twitter.com/themarkparker.

1 “Missional Manifesto,” http://www.missionalmanifesto.net.

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Review of Dyron B. Daughrity, The Changing World of Christianity: The Global History of a Borderless Religion

Dyron B. Daughrity. The Changing World of Christianity: The Global History of a Borderless Religion. New York: Peter Lang, 2010. 302 pp. $34.95.

Ever since I started teaching a class called “Global Christianity,” I have wished for a single-volume, comprehensive, summary textbook. The volume edited by Adrian Hastings (A World History of Christianity, Eerdmans, 2000) is a valuable resource, but I was hoping to find the unified production of a single author. For this reason, I was glad to discover Dyron Daughrity’s new book, and I was eager to evaluate it. Could it be the textbook that I had been seeking? I wondered how he would tackle this enormous, variegated subject. Would he approach it region by region, or would he attempt to weave every region into a single chronological narrative? I was also curious to see if he would broach the thorny issues of contextualization and syncretism. Would he define the limits of Christian doctrinal flexibility, or would he merely pose the questions?

Daughrity’s approach is clear from the beginning, as he introduces his readers to eight different “cultural blocks”: the Middle East, Eastern Europe, Western Europe, Latin America and the Caribbean, North America, Asia, Africa, and Oceania. One might quibble with his decision to treat China and India together, or with his inclusion of Egypt, Libya, Algeria, and Morocco with the nations of sub-Saharan Africa; his arrangements, however, are thoughtful and calculated, and they take history, politics, and language into account. Each cultural block is treated in a separate chapter, and the coverage begins with an encyclopedic narration of statistics: populations, birth rates, percentages of religious adherents, and life expectancies are among the details. These, in turn, are used to introduce regional overviews that place Christian developments in a larger historical framework. Each chapter concludes, then, with brief nation-by-nation summaries that provide information pertaining to the current state of Christianity. These sections offer a mixed and unpredictable bag of details: Italy seems to be secularizing (but not as quickly as France); Zimbabwe has criminalized witch hunts; and unemployment has reached 90% in Nauru.

The encyclopedic sections can make for tedious reading, and statistics can be misleading. To his credit, Daughrity calls our attention to the most significant data, and he is willing to call the numbers into question. He has noted, for instance, the imprecision of the Dalit census in India, which directly influences the reported percentage of Christian adherents. There are other contexts, however, where the distortions are more serious: to cite one important example, Daughrity says that African Indigenous Religions are losing statistical ground to Christianity. Those numbers, however, cannot reflect the ways in which Christianity has been blended with the African Indigenous Religions, making it difficult, at times, to ascertain which faith is gaining and which faith is declining.

The most fascinating discussions are the ones that seek to interpret the events that are being examined. This can be seen when Daughrity muses about the secular future of Europe and North America. He is well-informed about the theories and trends, and his observations deserve careful attention. He is also quite honest with the sordid history of European colonialism, and he is refreshingly fair-minded when he discusses the missionaries who worked in that context. He asks some crucial (and difficult) questions: Why did conquered peoples adopt the religion of their oppressors? Is there something innately imperialistic about religious missions? He does not define the limits of Christian doctrine, but he calls attention to problems of translation, contextualization, and syncretism. Which elements of doctrine must a person embrace (and which ones must be rejected) before that person can be counted as a Christian?

With a citation from the Kenyan John Mbiti, Daughrity implies that the traditions of the Western Christian heritage have handled Christianity “as they wished” (211). Indeed, until we recognize the way our own theologies have been determined by our own circumstances, we will struggle to think responsibly about the way foreign cultures have defined the Christian faith. This kind of self-examination will be essential as the global church attempts to evaluate Chinese interpretations of the cross, Indian definitions of God, or African perspectives on marriage and family. This book is not designed to investigate the problems of historical contingency, but it certainly points the reader toward a lively discussion of that issue.

One might question some of the statements in this book: Ramadan, for instance, is a lunar month and does not occur “roughly in September and October” (11). Also, there were no Nestorian missionaries in the fourth century (172). The Changing World of Christianity, however, is laden with good information from many diverse sources, and it represents a striking achievement. Daughrity should be congratulated for creating an informative, provocative introduction that brings some order to this bewildering new frontier in the study of Christian history. In the coming semester, my students will need to order this book!

Keith B. Huey

Professor of Religion

Rochester College

Rochester Hills, Michigan, USA

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James and the Gospel

The gospel according to James resonates deeply with the apostolic gospel. This gospel is not to be confused with the popular notion of personal salvation. Rather, James understands the gospel to be the culmination of Israel’s story in the story of the Lord Jesus Messiah—his life, death, burial, resurrection, exaltation, and consummation. Because this saving story is gospel, James is a rich resource for missional praxis.

Come hell or high water, Luther said what he thought and acted on it. In the first edition of his New Testament translation, called the Septemberbibel, Luther placed the letters of James, Hebrews, Jude, and Revelation at the back of the Bible. His infamous words about James were that it was “an epistle of straw,” and the reason for his comment I shall take up with you today. He said, “. . . for it has nothing of the nature of the gospel about it.”2 Well, there you have it: James can be discounted because it has no gospel. Moreover, if mission is connected to that gospel of Luther’s, then James has nothing to do with mission. I’ll challenge this in what follows, but first I want to turn to a recent discussion of the “gospel” of James, that by Rob Wall, who has written one of the finest and most stimulating commentaries on James that exists.3

Wall’s approach to the “gospel” of James is to set out the “master story” of James. Wall proposes a “pattern of salvation,” which is “vaguely covenantal in substance and narrative in shape,” and this forms a “theological subtext for the entire composition.” For Wall, James becomes a tool for mission. He finds four elements to this narrative theology in James. First, the sovereign God is able to save and to destroy (4:12); second, this one true God sends forth the “word of truth” (1:18); third, this sent word saves those who humbly receive it (1:21), and fourth, those who receive that divinely-sent word will be saved at the coming triumph of God’s reign (1:12; 2:5; 5:7–9). Well, yes, but there’s a problem. Having taught James for nearly three decades now, and having written a commentary that is longer than it ought to be, I read this list and I say to myself, “Well, yes, Rob, but I’m not sure that’s what James is about.” Wall makes a connection between the word “gospel” and the word “salvation” and then reframes both into a narrative approach—and I can’t say I disagree with anything in his narrative ideas. What I do wonder about is why the word gospel got filtered through the word “salvation.” Is the gospel the same as “salvation”? Well, of course, some of you will say “What a stupid question.” But I’m going to stake a claim now that gospel is not the same as “salvation” and that, while I like the substance of Rob’s narrative, calling that narrative the “gospel” for James misses the point.

If Rob Wall’s approach is not completely satisfactory, and if Luther’s is unacceptable, I suggest that the problem with both is how they define “gospel.” Even though Luther could say things closer to what I shall contend later, what is clear about Luther’s problem with the gospel in James is that Luther’s gospel is about justification by faith, and since James gets this exactly backwards in 2:14–26, and since James seems to be so in love with “Torah” (read: Law), James doesn’t have the gospel. Luther’s equating of gospel with justification by faith has become the custom in Protestant and evangelical circles. Let’s make this clear. When you ask the ordinary Protestant and evangelical the question “What is the gospel?” you will get variations on one theme: the gospel is about what God has done to save us from our sins so we can be reconciled with God and spend eternal life on the other side of hell. If this is the case, then James is of little use in missional praxis in the church today.

I begin with D.A. Carson, who in a Gospel Coalition address, summarized the gospel for many in these words:4

The gospel is integrally tied to the Bible’s storyline. Indeed, it is incomprehensible without understanding that storyline. God is the sovereign, transcendent and personal God who has made the universe, including us, his image-bearers. Our misery lies in our rebellion, our alienation from God, which, despite his forbearance, attracts his implacable wrath. But God, precisely because love is of the very essence of his character, takes the initiative and prepared for the coming of his own Son by raising up a people who, by covenantal stipulations, temple worship, systems of sacrifice and of priesthood, by kings and by prophets, are taught something of what God is planning and what he expects. In the fullness of time his Son comes and takes on human nature. He comes not, in the first instance, to judge but to save: he dies the death of his people, rises from the grave and, in returning to his heavenly Father, bequeaths the Holy Spirit as the down payment and guarantee of the ultimate gift he has secured for them—an eternity of bliss in the presence of God himself, in a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness. The only alternative is to be shut out from the presence of this God forever, in the torments of hell. What men and women must do, before it is too late, is repent and trust Christ; the alternative is to disobey the gospel.

Carson’s appeal to the storyline of the Bible is shaped by what might be called the plan of salvation. In shorter compass, Tim Keller sees much the same plan at work though he ups the ante by seeing cosmic redemption at work in the gospel. But by the time he’s done, his gospel is more or less the personal plan of salvation:

The ‘gospel’ is the good news that through Christ the power of God’s kingdom has entered history to renew the whole world. When we believe and rely on Jesus’ work and record (rather than ours) for our relationship to God, that kingdom power comes upon us and begins to work through us. . . . Through the person and work of Jesus Christ, God fully accomplishes salvation for us, rescuing us from judgment for sin into fellowship with him, and then restores the creation in which we can enjoy our new life together with him forever.”

And J. I. Packer joins Carson and Keller:

I formulate the Gospel this way: it is information issuing in invitation; it is proclamation issuing in persuasion. It is an admonitory message embracing five themes. First, God: the God whom Paul proclaimed to the Athenians in Acts 17, the God of Christian theism. Second, humankind: made in God’s image but now totally unable to respond to God or do anything right by reason of sin in their moral and spiritual system. Third, the person and work of Christ: God incarnate, who by dying wrought atonement and who now lives to impart the blessing that flows from his work of atonement. Fourth, repentance, that is, turning from sin to God, from self-will to Jesus Christ. And fifthly, new community: a new family, a new pattern of human togetherness which results from the unity of the Lord’s people in the Lord, henceforth to function under the one Father as a family and a fellowship.

Tom Wright thinks this approach is fine so far as it goes, yet as he has said in numerous settings, what they are saying is true, though it is not what Paul meant by the term “gospel.” So Wright formulates the gospel in other terms:

The gospel is the royal announcement that the crucified and risen Jesus, who died for our sins and rose again according to the Scriptures, has been enthroned as the true Lord of the world. When this gospel is preached, God calls people to salvation, out of sheer grace, leading them to repentance and faith in Jesus Christ as the risen Lord.

So, when we ask about James’ gospel, and about mission as its corollary, we have to decide if we are really asking this: Did James teach the plan of salvation? That is, did James teach that God loves us and that God is holy? That we are sinners? That we need forgiveness? That Christ died in our place and for our sins? That we need to repent and believe? If that is the gospel, I’d have to say I can’t know from his letter that James believed in that gospel and it puts the book in jeopardy for anyone who cares about that kind of missional praxis. Rob Wall did explore one way of doing this, and it’s as good as it gets in James, but if we mean personal plan of salvation when we say gospel, then I’d have to stop now and say we’re wasting our time.

Obviously, I wouldn’t have chosen this topic if that is as far as we could go. So I must have something up my sleeve, and I do, and I want now to explore what that is. I’m going to suggest that Tom Wright is more or less right, that the gospel and the personal plan of salvation are not one and the same thing, and that we can discern the gospel from the apostolic writings and that once we do that, we can explore all over again if James teaches the gospel. And I will suggest he does and that the book of James is therefore of value for missional praxis today. But it’s going to take us awhile to get there. That’s okay, we’re academics, and we like tedium. It sure beats getting your book scorched in the media and having prominent pastors “farewell” you in Twitter-world.5

The Apostolic Gospel

Before we can turn to James, we need to get the apostolic gospel on the table and make it abundantly clear. How do we do that? I suggest we ask the apostolic authors themselves, and when we ask that question we are forced into a new set of categories. There are three places to go to discern how Jesus and the apostles understood the gospel, and it all begins with a simple observation. To gospel was to announce or to proclaim or to declare good news about something—like a wedding or a military victory. So when Jesus and the apostles were talking about the “gospel” they were talking about some kind of declaration they were prepared to make. What was that declaration about?

First, according to the apostle Paul there was an already existing tradition that outlined or stated what the gospel was. Paul is either passing on that tradition by quoting it, or he is summarizing what the tradition was, in 1 Cor 15. There is some dispute here, and without time to develop this I will only state my view: the apostolic tradition of the gospel is found in 1 Cor 15:1–28 and not just in 15:3–8. In other words, the apostolic gospel includes the life, the death, the burial, the resurrection, the exaltation, and the consummation of all things. There’s more here. The apostolic gospel deals with these facts about Jesus in a narrative framework: the gospel is to declare the Scripture story to have found its fulfillment, its completion, its zenith, its telos-point in the Story of Jesus. And there’s yet another point to make: this Story about Jesus is a saving, forgiving Story. The gospel, according to this apostolic tradition, is to declare the Story of Jesus, who is Messiah (which means King), Lord, and Son. It is to declare that the Story of Israel has found its way to Jesus and this Story is now complete, and it saves. We should observe also that there’s nothing here about God loving us—though God does; there’s nothing here about how the cross does the atoning work—all we get is “for our sins.” There’s more here than any of our gospel tracts imagine, including the Story of Israel as the only imaginable context, including the consummation of all things before the Father. There’s a whole lot here about Jesus as Lord and Messiah and King. There’s stuff here about exaltation. And there’s stuff here about resurrection. But there’s not much encouragement for that plan of salvation approach to the gospel. It’s in your Bible, so I encourage you to sit down with 1 Cor 15:1-28, read it, and to ask what the gospel looks like if this is what it is. And it is.

Second, too many Bible readers pick up Matthew or Mark or Luke or John, see the title page where it says, “The Gospel According To,” and, if they think about it, take the word “Gospel” as a kind of book. In other words, “Gospel” means Gospel genre over against, say, Acts or an apocalypse or an epistle/letter. But the Gospel of Mark opens with a line that is as much a title to the whole book as anything else: “The beginning of the Gospel about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God” (1:1), and a text like Mark 14:9, which says that “wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” Now this has to be the Story of Jesus and nothing else, and is a shorthand way of Mark’s speaking about his own book. Others have suggested that Matthew, too, uses the word gospel for his book, as in Matt 24:14. What is clear is that Jesus’ preaching is a gospel message, and that encompasses much of each of the Synoptic Gospels.

I belabor these points slightly because I want to say this: there must have been a reason why Mark and probably Matthew, and all the early Christians, referred to these four books as The Gospel. Not the “gospels” but The Gospel. Why did they call them The Gospel in four different forms? Because they were the gospel. What they are not, unless you are as creative as Stephen King, is an outline of how to get saved that one finds in the plan of salvation approach to defining the gospel. In other words, although the elements are present, one doesn’t find in The Gospels an orderly sorting out of how to get saved. What you do find is an orderly account of the life of Jesus. Over and over, and on every page of each of the Four Gospels, the background music to the separable stories about Jesus is Old Testament and Jewish stories. If there’s a geneaology in Matthew, there are ones in Genesis and Chronicles that Matthew picks up and—surprise, surprise—then cleverly arranges into three groups of fourteen, and David’s name in gematria6 adds up to fourteen. That’s what we mean by “gospel.” The Story of Israel is finding its wandering way into the Story of Jesus, and telling us that the Story is now complete in Jesus is just what the apostles said the gospel was all about. I could go on, but we’re trying to get our way to James, remember.

Third, long ago C. H. Dodd wrote a brilliant little book called The Apostolic Preaching and Its Developments, and there he made the point that the Gospels are a fleshing out of 1 Cor 15:1–28.7 But what he was really on about was the preaching in the Book of Acts, and what he found there was the apostolic gospel itself. Where? In those gospel sermons in Acts. Where? Acts 2, 3, 4, 10–11, 13, 14, and 17. Did they preach the plan of salvation as we saw above? No. What did they preach? The gospel that Paul passed on, 1 Cor 15 and the gospel that is being told in the first four books of the New Testament. What Peter and then Paul preach over and over is the same apostolic gospel: the Story of Israel has found its way in the Story of Jesus, and this Story is a saving Story for those who turn to God from their sins, believe in Jesus as Messiah, Lord, Son, and Savior, and get baptized in his name. We don’t have time to sketch each, so let me simply quote what is the most pregnant statement of the preaching of the apostles in the Book of Acts. I will quote 10:34–43:

Then Peter began to speak: “I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right. You know the message God sent to the people of Israel, announcing the good news of peace through Jesus Christ, who is Lord of all. You know what has happened throughout the province of Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John preached—how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power, and how he went around doing good and healing all who were under the power of the devil, because God was with him.

“We are witnesses of everything he did in the country of the Jews and in Jerusalem. They killed him by hanging him on a cross, but God raised him from the dead on the third day and caused him to be seen. He was not seen by all the people, but by witnesses whom God had already chosen—by us who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one whom God appointed as judge of the living and the dead. All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.”8

What I’m contending is that this is the gospel itself. To “gospel” is to tell the Story of Jesus; to tell it as the fulfillment of the Story of Israel; to declare that Jesus is Messiah, Lord, Savior, and Son; and to summon people to repent, believe, and be baptized. If they do this, they will be forgiven and can be part of God’s messianic people, the new Israel, the church.

Now a summary: the gospel, we are arguing, saves, but it is not the plan of salvation. Nor are we led by these fundamental statements in the New Testament to think that outlining how to get saved, or arranging the various salvation statements into a powerful method of persuasion, is the gospel. No, the gospel is the announcement that Jesus completes Israel’s Story because he is the Messiah, Lord, and Savior.

What is mission then if this is the gospel? It is to announce the Story of Jesus, it is to talk about Jesus, and it is to show how the Story of Jesus completes the Story of Israel. It is to announce God, and who is God, and how we are to live before God and under God. It is to live under Jesus’ authority and wisdom, it is to bring others under that same authority and wisdom. It is to point people to Jesus, and it is to point the whole world to this Jesus. First and foremost, then, mission is about Jesus.

We can now ask if James taught the gospel, but in so doing we are not asking if he taught salvation, as Rob Wall did, but if he saw Jesus as the fitting completion of Israel’s Story. If he did, then James indeed is a gospel book, and perhaps Luther will restore James back to its proper place in the New Testament. And if James did this then we can look to James for missional wisdom.

James as a Gospeler

We begin at the beginning. Here’s how James begins his letter: “James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ” (1:1). While we are at it, I will cite the only other reference to Jesus in James. At 2:1, James says, “My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ?” There are some very interesting debates about how best to translate these lines, especially those in 2:1, but those aren’t of significance to this discussion. What is of significance is that James twice mentions Jesus, and both times he attaches to his name the Greek word that translates the Hebrew word for Messiah. For James—and tradition tells us they were brothers, though it gets sketchy in the tradition just how they were brothers, depending on which theologian you believe: Jerome, Epiphanius, or Helvidius. For James, Jesus and Messiah go together. The fundamental claim of the gospel is to declare that Jesus, this brother of James’, was indeed the true king of Israel, the true son of God, the Messiah himself.

We need to remind ourselves of this simple fact: to call Jesus “Christ” was to call him “Messiah,” and to call him “Messiah” was to call him “King.” Yes, King of Israel, but the eschatological expectations of Judaism were not just that they would get that final Moses figure who would be also a Davidic descendant and would rule in Jerusalem. No, the expectations in the Jewish world were of a final single world ruler who would rule the nations (with a rod of iron) from Jerusalem. When the apostles and someone like James called Jesus “Messiah” they were making more than a soteriological statement. It was much closer to a liberation theology and to a political theology than a claim about personal redemption. They were saying Jesus was that long-anticipated and final Messiah who would wrap up God’s plan.

I’m thinking we could stop right here and say to Martin Luther: “Yes, Mr. Martin Luther, we know what you mean about James and the Torah, and about James and justification, but there’s plenty of gospel in this book. Mr. Luther, the sixth word of James’ letter is ‘Messiah,’ and that in and of itself is the gospel message the apostles declared.”

But this immediate strike with the word Messiah is not enough. We want to ask if James fits the apostolic gospel of 1 Cor 15 and the Gospels and the sermons in Acts. To do that we have to ask more questions, and they look like this:

  • Does James talk about the life, death, burial, resurrection, exaltation, and consummation with Jesus as part of that Story?
  • Does James set the Story of Jesus in the Story of Israel?
  • Does James see the Story of Jesus as saving?

The Story of Jesus, From Death to Consummation

So now to those questions. We begin with the first one: Does James talk about life, death, burial, resurrection, exaltation, and consummation? Yes, to the “life” question. I will develop this in a second article: James’ letter resonates all over the place with the teachings of Jesus. Those emerged from his life. To back up one step in all fairness to the apostolic gospel: the apostolic gospel focused on the death, burial, resurrection, and exaltation of Jesus as Messiah and not on his life. The incarnation theology we find in John’s Gospel is not present in the apostolic gospel tradition.

On the death and burial the same thing can be said. Not a word. But let me speculate for a moment, knowing this is not to be taken as anything like a conviction. We can assume that James knew that Jesus died; we can assume that James knew that Jesus died on the cross. No one who followed Jesus as James did could have been ignorant of the fact that he died on a cross and was buried. So, we can guess this: when James calls Jesus “Messiah” he assumes the cross was not the last word about Jesus, his brother. Therefore, it seems reasonable, if speculative, to say: when James calls Jesus “Messiah” in 1:1 and 2:1, he is calling the One who was crucified the Messiah of Israel. There is no cruciform theology here; there’s no soteriology-through-the-cross theology. But at the bottom layer there’s a story of the Jesus who was killed by the authorities in Jerusalem and crucified. That person is for James the Messiah.

But what about resurrection and exaltation? We’ve got something to go on here. In James 2:1 we have a set of words that confuse the grammarians. The problem is clear: there were some believers9 who were partial against the poor and believed in “our Lord Jesus Christ of glory.” That’s a literal rendering of the Greek. The expression “of glory” is at the end of the long phrase and leads me to think the most accurate translation is “our Lord Jesus Christ, the Glorious One” or “the glorious one, the Lord Jesus Christ.”10 Permit me to quote from my commentary:11

Glory (doxa) could be conveying a translation of the Hebrew kabod or perhaps hod, shekina, or tip’eret. The term could be (1) incarnational or theophanic (e.g., 1 Cor 2:8) and suggest the very splendor and presence of God, which would render favoritism especially hypocritical. Or it could be (2) eschatological and suggest the resurrection and exaltation of Jesus Christ after his humiliation and poverty (e.g., 2 Cor 8:9; cf. John 3:14; 8:28; 12:32), which would in turn put the behavior of the messianic community under the threat of judgment. In which case, the text of James echoes texts like Deuteronomy 10:17-18 and Sirach 35:10–15:

For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the strangers, providing them food and clothing (Deut 10:17–18).

Give to the Most High as he has given to you,
and as generously as you can afford.
For the Lord is the one who repays,
and he will repay you sevenfold.
Do not offer him a bribe, for he will not accept it;
and do not rely on a dishonest sacrifice;
for the Lord is the judge,
and with him there is no partiality.
He will not show partiality to the poor;
but he will listen to the prayer of one who is wronged.
He will not ignore the supplication of the orphan,
or the widow when she pours out her complaint
(Sir 35:12–17; cf. also 10:30–31; 11:1, 4, 12–13).

If one favors the suggestion of the previous paragraph and translates “the glorious one,” there is a slight tip of the hat toward the first interpretation since the weight of the expression is on an attribute of the Lord Jesus Christ – he is the glorious one and therefore the one deserving of honor. Nonetheless, that consideration does not compel either interpretation and can be made to fit with either the theophanic or eschatological view. Sophie Laws is right: “James is not here concerned with the definition of christology [which the theophanic view emphasizes] but with the relation between faith and behaviour.”

Inasmuch as James has no other references to glory and no christology outside this passage, we are left with the option of leaving the two views in balance. If we take the theophanic view, contextually James could be emphasizing that the Lord Jesus Christ left the glorious presence of God, entered exemplarily into the impoverished state of the human condition, and has now returned to that glorious state of splendor: he is the poor and now exalted one. Therefore, the messianic community should be shamed in not identifying with the doubly glorious one who humbly identified with the poor. If we take the eschatological view, James could be exhorting the messianic community to recognize that they will have to render an account for their deference to the rich and their systemic mistreatment of the poor to the all-glorious Lord of the judgment, who, after his earthly ministry, was exalted to the right hand of God (cf. 5:7).

Either way, James assumes both resurrection and exaltation of the one who was crucified and now is the Lord Messiah. I tie this question with this observation: at the heart of the apostolic gospel was the declaration that this Jesus, the Jesus whom they had killed, God raised and exalted to the throne of God to rule alongside the Father. My contention is that James reflects the apostolic gospel tradition’s emphasis on resurrection, exaltation, and rule, while assuming without statement the crucifixion.

Before we move to our next question, one brief point about an issue that matters here: the word “Lord” in James is confusing. We can’t know always if he is referring to God, to the Father, or to the Son. But one text seems to be clearly in favor of it referring to Jesus Messiah as Lord. James 5:7, when we observe that James calls Jesus Lord at 1:1 and 2:1, perhaps refers to Jesus’ return/parousia: “Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord” (5:7).12 The exaltation and coming of the Lord were a part of the apostolic gospel.

The Story of Jesus in the Story of Israel

The question can be asked in a number of ways. Is the “narrative” at work in James an Israel Story narrative? Does James set the teachings of Jesus into the context of Israel’s Story? Does James set what he thinks about Jesus into Israel’s Story? And does James set his own teachings in the Story of Israel? I’d say yes to each of these, and I’d like to develop the use of the Shema in Jas 1:12 and 2:8–9, his use of the Old Testament all over the place, as well as, again, his appeal to Jesus as Messiah. But I will limit my comments to one text, Jas 1:1. James begins in a most unusual way.13 He calls his audience the “twelve tribes in the dispersion.” In this expression a hermeneutic is revealed.

The singular question is actually two/four-fold: does this pregnant expression describe an ethnic body (Jews or messianic Jews) or a metaphorical body (anyone Jewish or messianic or Christian)? And, does “Dispersion” refer to physical distance from the Land (in the physical Dispersion) or to the metaphorical sojourn-life on this earth the Christian is called to endure (in the spiritual Dispersion)?

The principles for detection of a metaphor are critical here. For a term to be metaphorical, there need to be some clues: the presence of a metaphor signifier: “as” or “like”; the impossibility of rendering something literally, as in the rich man “withering away” in 1:11; low correspondence between metaphor and analog, as would be the case if we knew that James was addressing the messianic community in Jerusalem and he used “Dispersion”; and, finally, sometimes an expression is so clearly developed that one must conclude it is metaphorical, as when James describes temptation in 1:13–15.

Do any of these apply either to “twelve tribes” or to “Dispersion”? First, this language is typical for Jews when referring to themselves as an ethnic body in the Dispersion—in other words, this is ethnically- and geographically-oriented language, and there is nothing that indicates it is a highly developed metaphor. Second, this language is dropped from this point forward, foreclosing any chance of peering into the mind of the author through other evidence. Third, the expression “Twelve Tribes” could be seen as almost per definitionem metaphorical: ten of those tribes have been lost since the Assyrian captivity. But it’s not that easy: Jews with plausible connections back to the 8th century deportation were present in the Diaspora in the 1st century and the hope of their return was a routine feature of Jewish eschatology. So, since that return is expected but has not yet occurred in the ethnic sense, to use “Twelve Tribes” must be a reference to all of Israel, and this expression probably also included the eschatological hope of reunion.14 This is how Jesus used “twelve” (Mark 3:13-19; Matt 19:28) and for Jesus there is a reconstitution of that twelve-tribe group for those who follow him and his apostles. Which means, since James stems from a messianic community shaped by a messianic hermeneutic, it is highly likely that James is writing to the “Twelve Tribes” in the sense of those ethnic Jews who are part of the apostolically-led messianic community. The single text that should clinch this for understanding James is found in Acts 15:13–21 (esp. 16–18a), when James addressed the Apostolic Conference in these words from Amos 9:11–12:

After this I will return,
and I will rebuild the dwelling of David, which has fallen;
from its ruins I will rebuild it, and I will set it up,
so that all other peoples may seek the Lord—
even all the Gentiles over whom my name has been called.
Thus says the Lord, who has been making these things
known from long ago.

Clearly, James sees the work of Jesus to be one of restoring Israel, and the specific shape of that restoring work is the messianic community of Jerusalem led now by the twelve apostles who could easily be seen as the new heads of the twelve tribes of Israel.

Now a slight clarification of the Christian emphasis just made: the border line between this messianic community and the rest of the Jewish community is amorphous. James 2:1–13 unveils a community that still meets in a “synagogue” (2:2), and the rest of James only uses the word “church” one time (5:14). Which means that twelve tribes is both messianic and still ethno-religiously inseparable from the Jewish community. We conclude then that on balance it is more likely that James writes his letter to the messianic Jewish community, or to messianic communities, who remain attached to the non-messianic Jewish community, but who also are residing in the Dispersion, and which messianic community James understands to be the foretaste of the kingdom of God.

Our question, if you remember, is a gospel one. Does James see the Story of Jesus in the Story of Israel? If the answer is yes, then we have clear evidence of James telling us the gospel. The answer is, in light of 1:1, yes. James gospels directly when he sees his community as the community of Jesus and that community as the one that fulfills the expectations of a twelve-tribe Israel in the kingdom of God.

Now we can return to Luther.

The Story of Jesus as Saving

Luther struggled with James, and to be honest, many Christians have, because they’ve been taught to read the Bible through the law/grace dialectic or because they’ve been taught to read it through the lens of a Christian soteriology. Once soteriology was equated with gospel, James got himself in trouble. Had he known, some must be thinking, he would have clarified his thoughts.

I want to suggest both that James does have a soteriology but that James’ gospel is not a soteriological one. First, consider James and salvation. Five times James mentions salvation:

    1. Therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls. (1:21)
    1. What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? (2:14)
    1. There is one lawgiver and judge who is able to save and to destroy. So who, then, are you to judge your neighbor? (4:12)
    1. The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven. (5:15)
  1. You should know that whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner’s soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins. (5:20)

“Souls” and “you” and “sinners,” as well as the “sick” are in need of salvation. The salvation James has in mind appears to be final in 1:21 and 2:14 and 4:12 and 5:20, but in 5:15 it is probably healing. We can complicate this for an endless discussion if we recognize that for James “save” and “justify” are synonyms at some level. If 2:14 says such a faith cannot “save,” that same topic and the same audience is told such a faith cannot “justify” in 2:20–26. To be sure, James gets “works” in here in ways that bugged Luther mightily, and I don’t want to pretend there are not major interpretive difficulties here (and not just because gospel and justification were equated), but the word “justify” and “save” are nearly synonymous.

What James does not tell us is whether Jesus Christ is the one who saves or justifies or whether faith in Jesus Christ is what saves. James tells us about “faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Glorious One” in 2:1, but he does not tell us much about that faith—except that such a faith and partiality are a living, dangerous contradiction. We could guess that anyone who said “You see that a person is justified by works and not by faith alone” in 2:24 when Paul was alive and thriving would know that the word “faith” had as its object the Lord Jesus Messiah. But James does not say that. And James speaks of forgiveness in 5:15: “and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven.” But he says not a word how that might happen, and does not connect it to the cross or resurrection.

We can again guess: if James knew Jesus was crucified, and if James knew he was raised, and if he could call that Jesus the Messiah and the Lord and the Glorious One who would return, then we can guess that he thought that Jesus was also Savior. We’d be theologically solid, but we would not be fair to James.

If gospel is equated with salvation, justification, and forgiveness, we cannot say James “gospeled.” But if the apostolic gospel was about the Story of Israel finding its lost way to Jesus Christ, and if it meant announcing that Jesus was the Messiah and Lord, then James is full of gospel.

James and Mission

Now let me draw all of this together in the space that is permitted, which isn’t much. When it comes to mission we learn from James to live and to teach in light of the teachings of Jesus who is Lord, Messiah, and the Glorious One. I will develop this in our next lecture.

We also learn that being missional is to point to Jesus in all of life: when we suffer and when we do not; when we are tempted and when we are obedient; when we see the poor and how we treat the poor; when we see injustice and when we seek to establish justice. What might matter more in today’s world than ever before, and this because of the ubiquity of talk on the Internet, is that James teaches us how to live under Christ in how we talk. I’m big on the word “civility,” though I’m not sure James always lives up to what we mean by civility. But neither are we in James’ world: what James tells us is that we will be judged by our words and that as teachers we ought to teach wisely and well and reduce our words, and because he says that, I shall take his cue and conclude. Right now. On that missional note.

Scot McKnight is the Karl A. Olsson Professor in Religious Studies at North Park University (Chicago, Illinois). He is the author of acclaimed works such as The Jesus Creed: Loving God, Loving Others (Paraclete, 2004) and The Blue Parakeet: Rethinking How You Read the Bible (Zondervan, 2008), as well as various New Testament commentaries, the most recent of which is The Letter of James (New International Commentary on the New Testament; Eerdmans, 2011). His award-winning blog, Jesus Creed, is found at http://www.patheos.com/community/jesuscreed.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Dodd, Charles H. The Apostolic Preaching and Its Developments. New York: Harper and Rowe, 1964. http://www.religion-online.org/showchapter.asp?title=539&C=607.

McKnight, Scot. The Letter of James. New International Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011.

Meriam-Webster Online, s.v. “gematria.” Accessed August 14, 2011. http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/gematria.

Mussner, Franz. Der Jakobusbrief. 5th ed. Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 13.1. Freiburg: Herder, 1987.

Wall, Robert W. Community of the Wise: The Letter of James. New Testament in Context. Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1997.

Wax, Trevin. “Gospel Definitions.” http://trevinwax.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/Gospel-Definitions1.pdf.

1 This essay is an adaptation of a lecture presented at the Rochester College conference, “Streaming: Biblical Conversations for the Missional Frontier,” May 16–18, 2011.

2 The German reads: “Darumb ist sanct Jacobs Epistel eyn rechte stroern Epistel gegen sie, denn sie doch keyn Euangelisch art an yhr hat.” See Franz Mussner, Der Jakobusbrief, 5th ed., Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 13.1 (Freiburg: Herder, 1987), 44.

3 Robert W. Wall, Community of the Wise: The Letter of James, New Testament in Context (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1997), 27–34. All quotations are from these pages.

4 I take the following examples from the carefully prepared PDF of Trevin Wax, “Gospel Definitions,” which can be found here: http://trevinwax.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/Gospel-Definitions1.pdf

6 Gematria is “a cryptograph in the form of a word whose letters have the numerical values of a word taken as the hidden meaning.” Meriam-Webster Online, s.v. “gematria,” accessed August 14, 2011,
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/gematria.

7 Charles H. Dodd, The Apostolic Preaching and Its Developments (New York: Harper and Rowe, 1964), ch. 2, http://www.religion-online.org/showchapter.asp?title=539&C=607.

8 Scripture quotations are taken from the New International Version.

9 On “faith” as being that of the partial ones and not Jesus, see Scot McKnight, The Letter of James, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 176–77.

10 Ibid., 177–78.

11 Ibid., 179–80.

12 For my more extensive discussion, where I conclude tentatively that it may instead refer to God/Father, see McKnight, 405-409. But one can’t be sure, and for that reason I provide the alternative interpretation in the text with the proviso that one ought to be cautious.

13 The following is an slight adaptation of McKnight, 65–68.

14 See Isa 11:11–16; Jer 3:18; 31:8; 2 Chr 29:24; 30:1; 34:9; Pss Sol 17:28; 1 Esdr 7:8; 2 Esdr 13:34-47; Sib Or 2:170; T Abr 13:6; 1QS 8:1; 1Q28a 11–12; 4Q159 frgs. 2-4:3-4; 1QM 2:1–3; 4Q164 2:1–3.

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James and Jesus

For James, Jesus is the Sage. Jesus’ teachings echo throughout the Book of James, because James has absorbed them and, in the tradition of the Jewish sages, re-embodied them for the communities of messianists to whom he writes. His writing therefore exemplifies a neglected but important dimension of missional theology: wisdom.

James may be an anomaly for many in the Christian church, not the least of whom was Luther, but that has not stopped many from scrutinizing this letter from cover to cover. Besides the relation of James to Paul, there is the relation of James to Jesus or to the Gospels. Patrick Hartin, one of the leading lights today on the book of James, said this: “There is nothing in the Letter of James that does not conform to the vision, teaching, and mission of Jesus.”2 Scholars have narrowed their focus and have argued that James is dependent on the Sermon on the Mount—some on Luke’s version while more on Matthew’s version—and others say James is dependent upon Q. If there is a consensus, it is with the view that James is connected more to Matthew than to any of the other Jesus traditions.

Plotting New Testament figures, authors, and books is a game scholars play, and it is also a game pastors play if they have the time. There is something intoxicating for many to explore how things moved, changed, shifted, developed and evolved. Some like to take the plot from the New Testament to Nicea, while others like the Reformation, and still others like to talk about Karl Barth and his influence in theology today. Often this game is nothing but the game of history with results being little more than the resolution of intellectual curiosity. Questions about truth are often not even asked. Questions about mission, then, are also not asked.

I want to suggest today that there’s something in this game of connections with the James debate for missional theology, but to get to that missional theology we have to dig around in James and the Gospels first. Once we’ve done that, I will draw the threads together before making a few suggestions for missional praxis.

James “Quotes” Jesus

James quotes Jesus only one time and, when James does quote Jesus, what James says strikes the reader as unusual. Out of nowhere, in 5:12, James says, “Above all. . . .” We are led to expect a summarizing word for the whole letter, something that ties together the Torah, the rich and poor problem, the persecution problem, and the tongue problem. Something like the Great Commission, or a summarizing doxology from the end of one of Paul’s letters, or at least some “Great so-and-so;” but not James. “Above all,” James says, “Do no swear, either by heaven or by earth or by any other oath, but let your ‘Yes’ be yes and your ‘No’ be no, so that you may not fall under condemnation.”3 How in the world legal oaths can be of such paramount significance to be the “above all” final exhortation is beyond us, since James hasn’t mentioned oaths once. Franz Mussner, to translate his German, translated the Greek into this: “Above all, before I forget.”4 We can drop this “above all” conversation for the new heavens and the new earth when love is winning over everyone and everything. Or is it? I’m not concerned today about the “above all” but about what follows.

James more or less quotes Matt 5:33–37:

Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.

There is no need to dabble in the details here, except to note that this is the only direct quotation of Jesus in James and it illustrates the game of connections we need to play today.

I suggest another connection of James to Jesus, but this time it is indirect. In Jas 2:8–9 James quotes Lev 19:18. He is quoting from the Old Testament here, but what is noteworthy is that from the time of this text, Moses or otherwise, no one quotes this text explicitly until Jesus, and then it starts showing up in the apostolic writings. Thus, Paul quotes Lev 19:18 three times in ways that it appears he believes just what James does: the entire Torah can be reduced to loving your neighbor as yourself (Gal 5:14; Rom 12:19; 13:9). Paul is quoting a text that was given new life by Jesus and which the early apostles found to be so pastorally, missionally, and ethically useful. It appears to me that James learned the power and pervasiveness of neighbor-love from his older brother, which leads me to see an indirect quotation of Jesus in Jas 2:8–9. That is, while James is quoting the Old Testament, he learned the value—as did Paul—from Jesus celebrating the hermeneutical cruciality of neighbor-love for understanding the entire Torah and Prophets. I see, then, another connection to Jesus, an indirect one, in James’s appeal to neighbor-love.

But James slightly morphs this use of Lev 19:18 in 2:8–11, and this morphing both shows another connection to Jesus and at the same time opens up doors for us to explore a kind of missional theology on the part of James. I shall try to explain this in as few words as possible. A rich man comes to Jesus and asks what he needs to do to get into The Age to Come (Matt 19:16–22). Jesus’ response is not what the typical evangelical or Luther would like to hear. Instead of laying out the plan of salvation, Jesus lays out the Ten Commandments, with a twist. Here’s what Jesus says:

If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.” He said to him, “Which ones?” And Jesus said, “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; Honor your father and mother; also, You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

Jesus reminds the rich man of commandments six (murder), seven (adultery), eight (theft), nine (false witness), goes back to commandment five (Sabbath); and then, from nowhere, a twist: Jesus adds Lev 19:18—love your neighbor as yourself. Jesus uses this commandment, not one of the Ten, to drill deeper into the rich man’s heart and says, in effect, If you love your neighbor as yourself, which is the fundamental idea at work in the second table of the commandments, you will sell your possessions and give to the poor. The story did not turn out well for those hoping for the conversion of a celebrity figure, but that’s not of interest to us now.

James seems to know of this exchange. In Jas 2:8–13 he begins with Lev 19:18 because he’s concerned with partiality toward the rich and against the poor, and sees partiality as breaking the commandment to love your neighbor as yourself. Only then does James press the matter home by saying, If you are a transgressor it really doesn’t matter which of the Ten Commandments you break—whether it be murder or adultery. Yes, there’s some slight morphing of what Jesus said to the rich man, but we’ve got the same interest in the second table of the commandments, two of which Jesus mentioned in his exchange with the rich man, and an addition of Lev 19:18: love of neighbor means caring for the poor and not caving in to the rich. From a different angle it is the same thing Jesus taught. In addition, it is how James begins this discussion that ought also to concern us: He speaks of the “royal law,” which means this is the preeminent command of the entire Torah—and again he sounds like Paul, but even more like Jesus, who reduced the Torah to love of God and love of neighbors.

And now an observation for missional theology, one I want to develop in our time together. Like Paul, James has done all of this without quoting or mentioning Jesus once. Herein lies, I suggest, a fundamental feature of genuine missional praxis. Our task and our mission is to re-embody the teachings of Jesus. In the rest of our time I want to illustrate how James consistently, one might say relentlessly, re-embodies the moral vision of Jesus for his messianic community.

James Embodying the Teachings of Jesus

To make this easier to follow, there will be four separable dimensions of the teachings of Jesus that I will contend are embodied in the pastoral and missional theology of James. I begin with the theme of “perfection.”

Perfection

Surely one of the more interesting words in James is “perfection,” which in Greek is teleios. Doug Moo’s second commentary on James is shaped by this term, which he translates into “spiritual wholeness.”5 Thus, his outline: the pursuit of spiritual wholeness (1:2-18), the evidence of spiritual wholeness (1:19–2:26), the community dimension of spiritual wholeness (3:1–4:3), a summons to spiritual wholeness (4:4–10), a second part on the community dimension of spiritual wholeness (4:11–12), and the worldview of spiritual wholeness (4:13–5:11). Moo is a Lutheran-nurtured evangelical, whereas Patrick Hartin is a Catholic, but Hartin’s book on the Christian life according to James is entitled A Spirituality of Perfection.6 For him perfection refers to wholeheartedness in dedication to God. In other words, wholehearted in that faith leads to works, wholehearted in that the follower of Jesus is characterized by integrity, and wholehearted in showing compassion for the poor. Getting evangelicals and Catholics to agree on “perfection” is not an easy task, so let’s take their agreement seriously.

All of this to show how important the idea of teleios is to James. Where did James get this emphasis? First, a brief sketch of the term in James:

And let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. (1:4)

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. (1:17)

But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing. (1:25)

You see that faith was active along with his works, and faith was brought to completion by the works. (2:22)

For all of us make many mistakes. Anyone who makes no mistakes in speaking is perfect, able to keep the whole body in check with a bridle. (3:2)

The apostle Paul uses this term in significant places, as well. For instance, “Yet among the mature [or perfect] we do speak wisdom” (1 Cor 2:6). Paul also uses perfection eschatologically, for when love wins—“but when the complete [perfection] comes, the partial will come to an end” (13:10; see Eph 4:13; Col 1:28; 4:12). Paul urges his followers to become “mature” (or perfect) in 1 Cor 14:20 (see Phil 3:15). Paul’s emphasis is eschatological. But Paul’s focus is not James’, and it leads us to ask if James’ understanding of “perfection” is to be connected to Jesus’ own teachings.

Once again we are back to Matthew, and Matthew alone. Twice Jesus uses this term in the First Gospel. I quote both:

Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. (Matt 5:48)

Jesus said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” (Matt 19:21)

God is perfect; the followers are to be perfect. Too many moral theories have been spun from this term, not the least of which was John Wesley’s, but we can leave those to another discussion for now. Closer inspection of Matthew reveals that perfection means a life of loving others by extending compassion to the poor. The most accurate way to read “perfection” in Matt 5:48 has a noble history, and I was struck by the number of scholars who argue this while recently working on a commentary on this passage. What view might that be? Many scholars have understood “perfection” in 5:48 as nothing more than a summary term for enemy-love in the verses preceding it, namely 5:43-47. Fittingly enough, this is more or less the way Luke saw it when he either edited or translated the original into the word “merciful” at Luke 6:36. He said, “Be merciful as your heavenly Father is merciful.” Mercy and enemy-love are two clear indications of what “perfection” means for Jesus. It is not without importance that the rich young ruler was told to be perfect and the very thing he was told to do was to love the poor by selling what he had to help them. It’s not quite enemy-love, but it is love, and it is the concrete love of helping others that Jesus had in mind.

As Hartin observes, James breathes the same air that Jesus breathes—which is, by the way, Jewish air. To be “perfect” means to be whole or complete, and that means to be all you were designed to be. Perfection connotes giving oneself to God and to others. When it comes to perfection in the book of James, then, James is not only Jewish, he sounds like the Jesus-kind of Jewishness. He wants the messianists to be perfect (1:2), and God is perfect (1:17), and perfection means obeying the Torah, now understood to be the “law of liberty” and the “royal law” or love of neighbor, and it means using one’s tongue properly—for that is the instrument with which one often treats one’s neighbor. The connection is not without importance for history. Like brother, like brother. Perfection and love of neighbor are one and the same for both the Jesus of Matthew’s Gospel and James.

But in seeing this missionally we have to observe: James does not quote or cite Jesus or use Jesus as the one who has said all things infallibly. He simply re-embodies the “perfection” theme of Jesus in his day, where it means to imitate God by doing God’s will in loving one’s neighbor, especially the poor.

Hearing and Doing

A second example touches on the heart of James’ theology. I will quote Jas 1:22–27, and when you “click” on these verses to find resonances elsewhere, the entire letter begins to buzz like an iPhone:

But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing.

If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. 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.

Immediately the close reader of James begins to hear resonances throughout the letter. Thus, we think of 2:1–7 (abusing the poor, shabby man in the synagogue and kowtowing to the fancy dresser) and 2:8–11 (the Jesus Creed in James) and 2:14–17 (taking care of the poor and naked) and 2:18-26 (the famous text on justification) and the use of the tongue in 3:1–12 (which was used to abuse) and the inappropriateness of zeal in 4:1–10 (where the community is at one another’s throats in destructive ways). It’s a theme in James, perhaps his most famous one: hearing the Logos or the Torah is not enough; one must do them.

Those who are familiar with the teachings of Jesus, as James and probably his audience were, think of texts like Matt 7:24–27.

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell—and great was its fall!

In Greek, we are in the same lexicon: both use akouō, or its variant akroatēs, and poieō and poiētēs.7 What is also notable is the parabolic form of both: Jesus tells a story of wise and foolish builders while James tells a story of the one who stares at a mirror. While James does not give the twin in going to extend the positive, as Jesus did with the good builder, James does in effect do this by providing the positive teaching in both 1:25 and in 1:26–27. And James’ morphing is typical: doing the Torah means caring for widows and orphans and keeping oneself unspotted from the world’s violent systems.

Once again, James both doesn’t cite Jesus and at the same time morphs the teaching. The teaching is clear, it is Jewish, and it is characteristic of Jesus—hearing is to lead to doing. Jesus sees this as the invitation of the Sermon on the Mount, but James morphs this into caring for orphans and widows. James takes the teachings of Jesus and extends them to the particular issues in his community, a community riddled with the poor and the abuse of the poor and a bundle of messianists who evidently say they follow Jesus but don’t live out his teachings.

Beatitudinal Perspective

A third example: Beatitudes played an important role in the Jewish world, and one could say living before God in order to be blessed is a beatitudinal perspective. A brief set of statements will sketch that context. (1) Beatitudes go back into the Mosaic Torah, to Deut 28 and Lev 26, but they were often formed in the Jewish world with an accompanying curse (say, Deut 27:15). (2) To be blessed is to have God’s blessings—a theology is at work here. (3) Blessings partake in the conditionality dimensions of God’s covenant obligations: if you do this, you will be blessed, and if you don’t, you won’t be blessed (e.g., Tob 13:12, 14; b. Ber. 61b). (4) At times the Jewish beatitude expressed a stunning reversal of conditions: those who suffer now but who are observing Torah will be blessed while those who are wealthy now but who are not observing Torah will be judged, and this is a theme Jesus taps into in Luke 6:20–26 and Matt 5:3–12. In other words, the term “blessed” entails an eschatology. (5) This eschatology has already been inaugurated in the present time: those who are blessed are already beginning to experience those blessings, which means that to be blessed emerges from a willingness to see beyond circumstances to The Age to Come; that is, it is a life of faith. Yes, there are some subtle differences between the Hebrew ⁾ āšrê and bārûk, but those aren’t nearly as important for our study since both Jesus’ and James’ words are now in Greek (makarios).8 Now on to the game of connections and how this helps missional theology.

Jesus’ beatitudes, found once again in Matt 5 and Luke 6, express this set of factors on a rather unique set of people groups: the poor (or “in spirit”), those who mourn, the meek, the hungry (for righteousness), the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted. There are others—those who are not scandalized by him and his lowly ways (Matt 11:6), those with eyes to see and ears to hear (13:16), Peter for perceiving that Jesus was Messiah (16:17), the faithful servant in the parable (24:46); and the woman who blessed Jesus was told by Jesus that the blessed are those who do the will of God, thus joining a list of others who were told something similar by Jesus (Luke 11:27–28; cf. 12:37–38, 43; 14:14; John 13:17). And the Gospels close off with John 20:29, where Jesus promises blessing to those who believe without having seen Jesus.

It’s a fool’s game to think that because James has the word makarios that he’s borrowing from or adapting Jesus, but it is worth our effort to observe what James does say, because it yields some suggestions. Twice James uses the term: in Jas 1:12 those who endure temptation are blessed, and they get the crown of life because they have loved God (surely an allusion to the Shema). And in 1:25 James says “But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing.” This lands James in the middle of the Jewish world and only a Jesus fanatic would say this term comes from Jesus. But we are not done.

What is suggestive is the presence of the beatitudes of Jesus in the teachings of James, present enough that I think we can say James may well be breathing Jesus’ makaristic air. The posture of taking delight, or some kind of exultant joy, in the testing of faith, which in Jas 1:2–4 very likely refers to the suffering by the poor, is found in Matthew’s beatitudes at 5:10–12. The paramount significance of being merciful comes seemingly out of nowhere in Jas 2:13—“for judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy [which itself evokes the Sermon at 7:1–5]; mercy triumphs over judgment.” And the listing of the “fruit of wisdom” in Jas 3:17 is very beatitude-like: “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield”—and now to our word—“full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy” [yet another Sermon word].” In this last verse is yet another beatitude: peaceable and peacemakers are connected (Jas 3:18 and Matt 5:9). But James’ letter often returns to the need for peace, even if the word is not used. I think of the statement that anger doesn’t produce the righteousness of God (Jas 1:20), which also evokes the Sermon on the Mount at 5:21–26, and James’ seeming nervousness about actual murder (Jas 2:11; 4:2), along with the obvious need to show mercy to the poor in both 2:1–7 as well as in 2:14–17. Back to the beatitudes again: the connection of humility/meekness to final exaltation in James 1:9–11 (poor and rich are reversed) and 4:10 (quoted below) to Matthew 5:5’s blessing of the meek, which blessing concerns the land, provides yet another plausible echo of the Beatitudes of Jesus.

Let the believer who is lowly boast in being raised up, and the rich in being brought low, because the rich will disappear like a flower in the field. For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the field; its flower falls, and its beauty perishes. It is the same way with the rich; in the midst of a busy life, they will wither away. (Jas 1:9–11)

Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you. (Jas 4:10)

And, finally, it is not outside of reason to think the patience of the prophets in James who were blessed for their endurance in 5:10–11 (“As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. Indeed we call blessed those who showed endurance.”) has some kind of echo to the last beatitude in Matt 5:10–12.

Five of the nine beatitudes are found in James, the themes of those beatitudes are significant in James, and those themes are the very ones that James urges as the ethics of his followers—well, it is not a fool-proof case but one would be hard-pressed to deny that James’ concern with blessing is not an echo of Jesus’ understanding of who is blessed by God. The connection, once we factor in all the resonances of the specific beatitudes, is plausible.

Missionally-speaking, yet again we find the same pattern: James knows and follows Jesus, and Jesus is his Lord and Messiah, and that means what Jesus valued is what James values. It is not surprising, then, to see him urging blessings from God on those whom Jesus blessed. For James, the way to extend Jesus into this world is to value the same values and to critique the same problems when they veer from those morals. Inherent to James’ missional vision is the extension of the ethical vision into living embodiment in his community, and it involves especially how they treat one another. Which leads to this missional observation: at work in James’ missional theology is a communal embodiment of the moral vision of Jesus. Jesus’ followers, the true twelve tribes, are those who live out the teachings of Jesus. Those who live out that moral vision are the followers of Jesus.

Speech Ethics

A fourth example of James embodying Jesus joins the dimensions of perfection, hearing/doing, and beatitudes. James is particularly nervous about judgmentalism and his concern is how the tongue is used by the messianists against one another. There is a long history in the wisdom tradition of Israel that warns about how the tongue is used. Thus, Prov 17:27: “One who spares words is knowledgeable
[dā⁽ at]; one who is cool in spirit has understanding [tĕbûnāh].” The wise person is counseled to be a good listener and to do what has been heard—this receptive reverence is the essence of wisdom. At work in all of this is the belief in the power of words, and while it is easy here to wander into some theory about the Hebrew belief in released words, I have no interest in that in this context. We are talking about the power of words that we utter to do damage to others.9

Jesus, too, stood in this tradition, and I wish to call our attention to two texts. In Mark 7:14–15, Jesus redefines purity and in so doing shifts it from what goes into a person through the mouth to what comes out of person through the mouth. Here’s how it is recorded by Mark:

Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile, since it enters, not the heart but the stomach, and goes out into the sewer?” (Thus he declared all foods clean.) And he said, “It is what comes out of a person that defiles. (Mark 7:18–20)

What we perhaps ought to explore are the radical implications of this saying in a purity culture, but that is not our purpose. Instead, we need to observe that Jesus thought words were at the essence of spirituality. He has ratcheted up what one finds in most Jewish traditions and what he says lands him in the middle, and perhaps rising above, the Israelite wisdom tradition. And then Jesus utters very strong words about judging others in Matt 7:1–2, which is concretized in 7:3–5, but we can ignore that for this context:

Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. For with the judgment you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get. (Matt 7:1–2)

We are driven by Jesus’ own rather harsh words, say in Matt 23, to interpret these words as a reference to sitting in God’s seat and judging the final destiny of others or to judge the ultimate worth of someone else. So let me use the common distinction that we are expected to discern the true from the false or the good from the bad, but we are not to usurp the role of God in thinking we can sit in judgment on someone else. There’s much to be said here but that would consume another paper, one for which I’m not prepared.

James is obsessed with words and a good case can be made, and I made it (!) in my commentary, for seeing James 3:1–4:12 as one section concerned with teachers and their posture over against others. They will be measured by their words (and this sounds like Jesus). They are to see that “perfection” is control of the tongue, which shoots us back to its sudden appearance in 1:26, and this too sounds like Jesus in Mark 7:14–15. The tongue is omni-powerful, an almost uncontrollable little bit of the body (3:1-8), and we use it both for God and against those made in God’s image (3:9). We are called to be wise, and surely this is about the use of the tongue as well (3:13–18). The problem in the messianic community is warfare between one another, and the tongue once again is involved (4:1–10). James closes off this section in words that draw us back to Matt 7:1–2:

Do not speak evil against one another, brothers and sisters. Whoever speaks evil against another or judges another, speaks evil against the law and judges the law; but if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge. There is one lawgiver and judge who is able to save and to destroy. So who, then, are you to judge your neighbor? (Jas 4:11–12)

You can disagree with Rob Bell on hell but don’t send the man to hell, and the reason is not because it breaches civility—don’t do this because it’s not what we are called to do. God is the judge, we aren’t. James teaches this and so does Jesus, and the connection is once again clear.

If we begin to add our examples together and not just treat them separately, we see a compelling case that James is dependent in significant ways on Jesus. What I find most striking about the letter of James is how James uses Jesus. He doesn’t quote him, which is one way of demonstrating that Jesus is Lord and his authoritative source for truth and wisdom. But there’s another way, the way of wisdom: James has so absorbed Jesus, his moral vision, and his teachings that he thinks and talks like Jesus every time he puts quill to papyrus.

A Missional Theology

From this we can draw together a few dimensions of a missional theology. To begin with, I want to contend in light of my first essay10 that James’ embodiment of the moral vision of Jesus is gospel embodiment. If the gospel is the declaration that Jesus is Messiah and Lord, then listening to Jesus and doing what Jesus says and then urging others to do the same thing is what it means to live under Jesus as King and Lord. Second, at the core of missional work is the endeavor to extend the mission of Jesus, the presence of Jesus, the kingship, lordship, kingdom, and lordly realm of Jesus into new frontiers. One gets the impression from reading this letter of James that this was a struggle—there are indications of verbal fisticuffs if not overt violence. There is indication of rich man versus poor man injustices, and there are indications that teachers were using their positions to domineer and overwhelm. James extends the kingship of Jesus by re-embodying the moral vision of Jesus into those realms of life. Third, missional theology is about creating a community under Jesus where his moral vision flourishes. While I have benefited from, participate in, and written about things commonly connected with the spiritual formation movement, led by such notables as Richard Foster and Dallas Willard, at times that movement concerns me with its overemphasis on personal spiritual formation at the expense of corporate formation. James does not seem as concerned about individuals growing up spiritually as he is with a community embodying the moral vision of Jesus. I want to say this clearly: he does care about individuals but only insofar as they are part of the twelve tribes who are seeking to live out the moral vision of Jesus.

But how can we characterize this missional theology of James, this use-of-Jesus-in-a-newcontext theology of James? The question can be asked in a slightly different manner: Is James’ missional theology Mosaic, prophetic, or sapiential (wisdom-related)? Assuming a more literary perspective now on the Pentateuch, and not getting too nuanced on our capacity to delineate the redactor’s theological overlay, I believe the Mosaic tradition can be characterized as narratival, liberationist, cultic, and legal. That is, the Mosaic tradition is the story from creation to the Jordan River, is about Israel being liberated from Pharaoh, is about a Temple cultus being formed as the meeting place with God and as the place of atonement, and is about laws that both reveal God’s will for Israel and that govern Israel’s behavior. One can pull and stretch the skin of the fox over James to make him sound Mosaic, and he is definitely into the imperative mode, and he definitely believes in the Torah as God’s will, but what needs to be observed is this: James does not treat Jesus as a Moses figure. James’ relation to Jesus is not one in which he says, “Jesus said it, we must do it.”

Does James see Jesus as a prophet? If the fundamental posture of a priest was to represent Israel and Judah to God, the fundamental posture of a prophet was to represent God to Israel, and in the word “posture” I’d include both revelatory words as well what Abraham Heschel called the divine “pathos.” James himself can sound nearly prophetic at times, even if he doesn’t have the “thus saith the Lord” kind of claim. Thus, James 1:9–11 partakes in the prophetic critique of materialism, and I quote verse 11: “For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the field; its flower falls, and its beauty perishes. It is the same way with the rich; in the midst of a busy life, they will wither away.” And James 4:13–17 and 5:1–6 are powerful prophetic-like warnings. But that’s James. You can examine James cover to cover and his Jesus is not a prophet-like figure, his Jesus is not quoted saying anything prophet-like, and it leads us to the conclusion that James’ relation is not of a student to his master prophet. Don’t get me wrong, Jesus himself did have a Moses-like status and a prophetic stance, but that is not how James depicts Jesus.

I suggest that Richard Bauckham and others are right here. James’ Jesus is a wisdom figure. Wisdom traditions were not quotations of other wisdom traditions, and the chasid 11 of a Jewish community didn’t stand up and quote legal rulings or the previous sages. Instead, wisdom was marked by the brief, pointed aphorism that speaks out of experience and into a specific and even general circumstance. One of the distinctive marks of the Israelite wisdom tradition was to add in a creative manner to the wisdom tradition by re-expressing and re-embodying the wisdom of the wise for a new day and in new ways. Thus, Ben Sirach doesn’t so much quote Proverbs or Solomon but instead he perceives and articulates for his community the wisdom tradition of Israel. James’ relation to Jesus then is that Jesus is the Sage. To quote Bauckham, James’ “wisdom is the Jewish wisdom of a faithful disciple of Jesus the Jewish sage.”12 But Bauckham articulates this again in another way:

James, as a disciple of Jesus the sage, is a wisdom teacher who has made the wisdom of Jesus his own, and who seeks to appropriate and to develop the resources of the Jewish wisdom tradition in a way that is guided and controlled by the teaching of Jesus.13

It is right here that I think we can gain insight into missional theology. Without denying the wonderful vistas we have been given into missional and pastoral theology by the missio Dei movement, without setting to the side the holistic perspective on redemption that missional theology presses on us, and without suggesting that missional theology’s emphasis on justice in the church and in the community are at the forefront of God’s mission in this world, I want merely to suggest that a neglected and valuable dimension of missional theology is wisdom. That is, the experientially-derived, circumstance-focused value of aphoristic teaching in a way that makes Jesus’ teachings potent, disarming, deconstructing, and valuable in local churches in our world.

Scot McKnight is the Karl A. Olsson Professor in Religious Studies at North Park University (Chicago, Illinois). He is the author of acclaimed works such as The Jesus Creed: Loving God, Loving Others (Paraclete, 2004) and The Blue Parakeet: Rethinking How You Read the Bible (Zondervan, 2008), as well as various New Testament commentaries, the most recent of which is The Letter of James (New International Commentary on the New Testament; Eerdmans, 2011). His award-winning blog, Jesus Creed, is found at http://www.patheos.com/community/jesuscreed.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baker, Willian R. Personal Speech-Ethics in the Epistle of James. Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2.68. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1995.

Bauckham, Richard. James. New Testament Readings. London: Routledge, 1999.

Bickerman, Elias J. The God of the Maccabees: Studies on the Meaning and Origin of the Maccabean Revolt. Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity 32. Leiden: Brill, 1979.

Blenkinsopp, Joseph. Sage, Priest, Prophet: Religious and Intellectual Leadership in Ancient Israel. 1st ed. Library of Ancient Israel. Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995.

Hartin, Patrick J. A Spirituality of Perfection: Faith in Action in the Letter of James.Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1999.

Hartin, Patrick. “The Religious Context of the Letter of James.” In Jewish Christianity Reconsidered, edited by Matt Jackson-McCabe, 203–232. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007.

Meriam-Webster Online, s.v. “hasid.” Accessed August 3, 2011. http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hasid.

Moo, Douglas J. The Letter of James. Pillar New Testament Commentary. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000.

Mussner, Franz. Der Jakobusbrief. 5th ed. Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 13.1 (Freiburg: Herder, 1987.

1 This essay is an adaptation of the lecture presented at the Rochester College conference, “Streaming: Biblical Conversations for the Missional Frontier,” May 16–18, 2011.

2 Patrick Hartin, “The Religious Context of the Letter of James,” in Jewish Christianity Reconsidered, ed. Matt Jackson-McCabe (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 229.

3 Scripture quotations are taken from the New International Version.

4 Franz Mussner, Der Jakobusbrief, 5th ed., Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament 13.1 (Freiburg: Herder, 1987), 211. His German: “Vor allem darf ich nicht vergessen. . . .”

5 Douglas J. Moo, The Letter of James, Pillar New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 46 and passim.

6 Patrick J. Hartin, A Spirituality of Perfection: Faith in Action in the Letter of James (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1999).

7Akouō and akroatēs mean “to hear” and “hearer” respectively; poieō and poiētēs, “to do/make” and “doer/maker” respectively.

8 All of these words mean “blessed.”

9 On this topic, see Willian R. Baker, Personal Speech-Ethics in the Epistle of James, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2.68 (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1995), 23–83.

10 “James and the Gospel,” also published in this issue of Missio Dei.

11 A chasid “was member of a Jewish sect of the second century BC opposed to Hellenism and devoted to the strict observance of the ritual law.” Meriam-Webster Online, s.v. “hasid,” accessed August 3, 2011,
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hasid. For more information, see Elias J. Bickerman, The God of the Maccabees: Studies on the Meaning and Origin of the Maccabean Revolt, Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity 32 (Leiden: Brill, 1979) and Joseph Blenkinsopp, Sage, Priest, Prophet: Religious and Intellectual Leadership in Ancient Israel, 1st ed., Library of Ancient Israel (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995).

12 Richard Bauckham, James, New Testament Readings (London: Routledge, 1999), 108. This summarizes his extensive discussions from pp. 29–111.

13 Ibid., 30.

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Western Missions and Dependency

In the postcolonial era, with the new emphasis on globalization and interdependence, the author reminds readers that dependency from colonialism still exists and hampers the completion of the Great Commission. While interdependence is held to be the solution to global poverty and world evangelization, the legacy of dependency remains powerful. The author examines how dependency works and suggests ways to overcome it in postcolonial missions.

When my wife, baby daughter, and I moved to Zimbabwe to be church-planting missionaries in 1981, we were looking forward to working in the postcolonial period. As the child of missionaries to Rhodesia (as Zimbabwe was formerly called), I knew how colonialism operated. We white people were firmly in control, and we represented Christendom, the alliance of state power with the worship of Jesus Christ. In Rhodesia (named for a British imperialist), we prayed at school assemblies for the queen of England in an Anglican worship service using the same prayer book and hymnal as school children in England. Even though I am an American, I knew the sun never set on the British Empire.

When Zimbabwe gained independence from Britain in 1980, Africans were euphoric. As we arrived and settled in, we assumed that the previous century of white domination would fade away and dependency would be a thing of the past. After all, dignity was restored to Africans with independence. This was visible on their faces as they contemplated being in charge of their own country. The future seemed bright, and we thought we had entered a new era in missions where white, black, and brown would see each other as equals at last. But it was not possible to erase so much history overnight. The issue of dependency is still a major problem in Western missions long after the British Empire collapsed.

With the end of the Cold War and the rise of globalization, new opportunities have opened for people from all parts of the globe to become involved in world missions. In fact, postcolonial missions can become much more biblical and therefore suitable, if dependency left over from the colonial era can be eradicated. Sadly, dependency has not disappeared, but has grown even worse.

In this article, I would like to address the issue of dependency in the postcolonial period, to understand why it still plagues missions and undermines local initiative. Then I would like to offer some suggestions for overcoming dependency so that Christians in former colonies may rise to their full potential in Christ. In other words, it is time for true postcolonial mission models to take the place of colonial ones.

What is Dependency?

Briefly, dependency is the unhealthy reliance on foreign resources for funding, decisions, ideas, and personnel. It is waiting for someone else to do for you what you could be doing for yourself. As I have implied, dependency is a natural by-product of colonial attitudes. Colonial missions assumed the dominance of Western missionaries, which in turn ensured that indigenous Christians in mission-established churches would be dependent on them, perhaps forever.

The dependency syndrome developed out of the era of high imperialism1 at the end of the nineteenth century. This coincided with an unrealistic optimism connected with the idea of Western progress. Western Christians made the faulty assumption that their culture had absorbed so much Christian faith that Western civilization was predestined to dominate the world. Events on the ground seemed to bear out this assumption as European nations, which formed the heart of Christendom, carved out colonies around the globe. The United States participated in the spirit of the age by taking the Philippines during the Spanish American War in 1898.

The philosophical foundation for this excessive optimism came not from the Bible but from the Enlightenment. The eighteenth-century Enlightenment was a European reaction to centuries of the domination of society by the church. This reaction hoped to end traditions, superstition, and tyranny, becoming the impetus for the French and American Revolutions.

The Enlightenment upheld human reason as the power capable of unlocking all the secrets of the universe. This led to the scientific revolution with the development of new technology. As humans gained mastery over nature, there seemed to be less need for religious faith. Indeed, faith became a private matter while facts belonged to the realm of science. Secularism was on the rise in Christendom.

Lesslie Newbigin summarized this phase of Western history:

In the eighteenth-century Enlightenment this biblical framework was gradually replaced by one that, continuing the biblical idea of an ongoing purpose and a real end of the human story, replaced God by humans as the bearers of the meaning of history. The “Idea of Progress” was born. . . . The people of the Enlightenment, modern Western Europeans living in the Age of Reason, were the leaders of human progress.2

Despite the fact that the Enlightenment relegated the Christian faith to the realm of opinion rather than fact, Christians participated in the mood of optimism. Missionaries adopted “The White Man’s Burden”3 as a noble task of bringing Western civilization to the rest of the world. They joined forces with secularism to bring Western education and health services to the colonized peoples. In addition, they imported foreign systems of leadership, institutions, architecture, and worship to the churches they planted. All of this combined to create dependency among mission-established churches, because local people had to rely on foreign missionaries to operate these foreign systems.

Missions in the Age of Imperialism

The result of the White Man’s Burden was a legacy of dependency among mission-established churches and institutions. Missionaries widely assumed that Western culture was so influenced by Christianity that it was necessary to transplant it to pagan cultures. Civilization would precede evangelism, because the gospel and Western culture were seen as one package. But by making Christianity seem foreign in the places it was planted, this ensured long-term dependency would be the result.

For example, missionaries to India found that the most receptive group to the gospel were the lowest castes. Converts from these groups would often remain dependent on the missionaries and have little influence on the higher castes. Some thought that the solution was to reach higher castes through Western education. Alexander Duff was such an educator missionary from the Church of Scotland. By incorporating the study of the Bible with secular subjects in a school for elite Indian students, he hoped to succeed where others had failed in evangelizing the higher castes. In the end, however, students were more attracted to the secularism that accompanied Enlightenment ideals than to Christianity.

Ruth Tucker summarised the results of Alexander Duff’s educational mission with these words: “The major criticism of Duff’s work was that the vast majority of his students came to his school only for the secular education, and of these thousands there were only thirty-three recorded converts during Duff’s lifetime.”4 While Tucker noted that these few converts became highly influential in Indian Christianity, Duff became more famous as a missionary statesman who effectively spread his method to Christian missions worldwide. Western education and medicine were seen as indispensable to the spread of the gospel throughout the colonial period and beyond.

Graham Houghton was critical of mission methods in India that produced so much dependency on the missionaries. He claimed that God’s blessing was withheld from the Indian Church because of missionary paternalism, and that some of the best candidates for ministry did not put themselves forward for Christian work for fear that “they would be patronized by the Missionary.”5 Houghton suggested that some Indian Christians would have approved of the idea of a missionary moratorium as early as 1908, quoting one pastor as saying, “If by some providential catastrophe all the foreign missionaries had to leave the country for good, it would prove to be a blessing in disguise.”6

It is possible to make a claim that Indian church history is the history of people movements among the lower castes. In fact, there were so many “mass movements” to Christ in the early twentieth century that the National Christian Council of India, Burma, and Ceylon became alarmed, since it was assumed that salvation is valid for individuals only. The Council appointed J. Waskom Pickett to investigate ten such mass movements; his findings are in his classic book, Christian Mass Movements in India, published in 1933. Pickett discovered that these movements occurred away from missionary presence among the lowest castes who preferred to make communal decisions. Although the new converts were extremely poor, they were not dependent on outside funding at first. Significantly, all ten movements became dependent on mission aid once the missionaries began to reach them.7

Pickett noted that those movements that succeeded in supporting their own pastors became significantly stronger: “When these mass-movement groups support their pastors, great benefits accrue to them. The result is most stimulating. Their self-respect gains, and they value the ministry of their pastor more highly. This is not mere theory.”8 Pickett estimated that 80 percent of all Indian Christians were the product of such mass movements at that time,9 so he concluded that this was “the most natural way of approach to Christ.”10 He cautioned, however, that these movements could easily be retarded by rapid economic rise or by social shifts that broke the converts’ connections with their groups.11 He urged missions to cease activities that created dependency: “Missions should take special care to discontinue or revise all of their processes of work that have interfered with the development of initiative.”12

Much later in that century, J. P. Masih characterized Indian church history as “the history of ‘people movements,’” but noted that three current people movements were halted by “a silent game of money bargaining” by new converts with the heads of different denominations in a quest to receive relief aid.13 It is clear that foreign funds can derail promising movements to Christ.

The Effects of Globalization

With the end of colonialism came the new phase of globalization. Briefly, globalization is the shift toward a single global economy, with the added components of a single superpower since the downfall of the Soviet Union in 1991 and greater connectivity due to the Internet. Tom Sine refers to globalization as “McWorld”14 because of the rapid spread of American ideas and values along with capitalism, as epitomized by the McDonald’s Corporation. Thus, globalization is primarily economic, but also cultural.

Jeffrey Sachs, the economist who advises the United Nations for its Millennium Development Goals, as well as governments of nations in many parts of the world, sees globalization as a continuation of a movement that began with colonialism. He believes that prosperity spread because of technological advances that came in various waves and accompanied European colonialists as they moved out to occupy foreign lands.

Sachs classifies the colonial period as “globalization under European domination.”15 He links the “white man’s burden” to this phase of globalization, and defines it as “the right and obligation of European and European-descended whites to rule the lives of others around the world, which they blithely did with a contradictory mix of naïveté, compassion, and brutality.”16 He also readily admits that globalization has led to some parts of the globe growing dramatically in wealth while other areas become poorer. The last two centuries have produced “vast income inequalities.”17

With all this negative history in the process of globalization, what does Sachs recommend for the future? He advocates “Enlightened Globalization” as the remedy for the excesses of the past, by which he means, “the kind of globalization championed by the Enlightenment—a globalization of democracies, multilateralism, science and technology, and a global economic system designed to meet human needs.”18 In other words, he wants more of the same with the simple removal of past injustices. The underlying ideology would continue to be the Enlightenment with human reason as the highest power to achieve global stability and prosperity. The ideals of Western civilization would continue to drive the agenda.

Tom Sine, writing from a Christian perspective about globalization, warns: “The aspirations and values driving globalization are a product of the Enlightenment and modernity and are in many ways directly counter to the aspirations and values of God’s new global order.”19 Nevertheless, many Christians take the era of globalization as heaven-sent for missions. This is because of the increased connectivity and interaction taking place between Christians from many nations. This would seem to herald a new era of cooperation between churches around the world. The problem lies, however, in the long-term dependency that remains as a legacy of colonialism.

Globalization, Poverty, and Interdependence

In an interview with Christianity Today, Jayakumar Christian, the head of World Vision in India, made the following statement about poverty: “My assumption is that the poor are poor because someone else is trying to play God in their lives. Human beings were designed to submit their spirit only to the Creator. Any attempt to take the place of the Creator leads to poverty.”20 It is certainly tempting to play God in the lives of the poor, as many think they know best what the poor need and that the poor have no ideas themselves. The era of globalization is also the era of extreme global inequalities.

No one epitomizes globalization more than Bill Gates, founder of Microsoft, who with his wife formed the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation in order to combat disease and poverty with science, technology, and Western wealth. On one occasion, Bill and Melinda Gates toured a New Delhi slum called Meera Bagh, and a reporter for Time magazine later interviewed a woman named Sushila whom the Gates chose to visit on that tour. The reporter wrote:

I asked Sushila whether she knew the names of the people who had visited that morning. She said that she did not but that they were very nice. I told her the man in the khaki pants was the richest man in the world. Sushila smiled and said it didn’t matter that he was the richest. All foreigners were rich compared with her, she said.21

This illustrates two aspects of globalization. On the one side, wealthy Western people are seeking technological solutions for poverty, while on the other side the gap between rich and poor is so vast that to the poor all foreigners seem rich.

Western Christian missions have joined this wave of philanthropy, forming alliances with people like Bill and Melinda Gates, Jeffrey Sachs, and the rock star Bono to rid the world of poverty and disease. One might even be tempted to say that the focus of missions has shifted from outreach through the gospel to eradicating poverty. Certainly there is an emphasis on wealthy Western Christians assisting poorer Christians and non-Christians elsewhere.

In the global war on poverty, Jeffrey Sachs advocates a renewal of the Marshall Plan instituted by the United States to rebuild economies shattered in World War II. This would be done in the form of grants rather than loans.22 Similarly, a recent book on missions suggests that American churches should institute a “Missionary Marshall Plan” for the twenty-first century. John Rowell says, “[The] Marshall Plan offers a valuable model for modern mission involvement. I am proposing that Western Christians should adopt the general format of this historical philanthropic milestone as a guide for giving today.”23 Rowell does not distinguish between Christian and non-Christian poverty in his advocacy of giving. He emphasizes that Christian evangelists in the developing world are generally poor as are the unreached people in the same places. All would benefit from a radical new level of Christian giving from America: “America is uniquely poised to serve the kingdom of God and the lost world as the War Chest for World Missions!”24

Rowell’s solution to the dependency issue is for Western giving to be without conditions:

As a premise, I am suggesting that dependency need not be a problem, even when outside funding predominates, if Western contributions are made without strings being attached and if national leaders are able to assert themselves by taking their rightful role in casting vision and initiating ministry.25

In other words, if Western giving can come without depriving non-Western Christians of their leadership roles, then it will be helpful.

Others have sounded the same call to change the role of American missions from sending missionaries to funding non-Western evangelists. Perhaps the best known of these is K. P. Yohannan, founder of Gospel for Asia. He called on North American Christians to sponsor Asian evangelists for as little as $30 to $50 per month per evangelist, citing this as “a wise investment of our resources because the native missionary works more economically than foreigners can.”26 Furthermore, the native evangelists already understand the local languages and cultures, and therefore can communicate more effectively than Westerners. Yohannan called for Western support of one million Asian evangelists at a cost of $600 million per year.27 He claimed that such a strategy would complete world evangelization in the shortest time, and it would prove to be “the quickest way to help Asian churches become self-supporting.”28

Similarly, Paul (Bobby) Gupta understands the era of globalization to be a time of interdependence in the worldwide body of Christ, as it is in business. While colonialism represented the era of dependency, and nationalism represented the era of independence, viewed as autonomy, now globalization represents international cooperation at its best. He cites the actions taken by the Ford Motor Company in India as an illustration of this evolution. Ford was first a foreign company that took advantage of colonialism to sell its products in India, and then was expelled during the period of extreme Indian nationalism. But “under the current paradigm of globalization, they chose to partner with Mahindra, a national automobile manufacturing company,” so benefiting both.29 Gupta challenges Christians to follow this example: “If the Ford Motor Company can do it for profit, surely Christians, called by the Holy Spirit, can partner together to fulfil the mission of God.”30

Ultimately, the goal of Gupta and Sherwood Lingenfelter is to champion the same kind of Western giving to non-Western evangelists as Yohannan and Rowell. Lingenfelter indicates that Western Christians often think nothing of spending several hundred dollars for such things as car payments, credit card purchases, cellphone bills, cable television and Internet use, but “they do not comprehend that they could fully support seven Indian missionaries or trainers of trainers with those same dollars. . . . The Lord is waiting for the rich to partner with the poor to make disciples of the nations.”31 Gupta even claims that the work his organization in India has done in planting churches could not have succeeded without foreign partners.32

Continuation of Dependency

Some important questions remain to be answered. Does the shift from colonialism to globalization mean that the issue of dependency has faded away? Does this shift inaugurate a new era of beneficial international cooperation and interdependence? Is the role of Western missions now to cease sending missionaries in order to fund non-Western evangelists? Is placing Western missions in the role of providing the funds needed for missions the new paradigm for postcolonial missions, as its proponents claim? Is the gap between the rich and poor so great that mission has become essentially the eradication of poverty?

While missionaries have often taken advantage of historical movements in order to spread the gospel, this has never meant that these historical movements were somehow sacred history. On the contrary, attaching mission methods to human movements comes at a price. For instance, attaching the gospel to colonialism insinuated that racial superiority and military power helped to spread the gospel, yet the gospel itself teaches the exact opposite of both. It is for such reasons that many have misunderstood the gospel message.

In particular, globalization is a movement that comes from the same kind of mindset stemming from the Enlightenment that produced colonialism. Globalization is not only about international cooperation and interdependence; many of the same attitudes from colonialism that fueled dependency remain. Even a champion of globalization like Thomas Friedman acknowledges that it can be likened to the pursuits of those who built the Tower of Babel:

What was the problem with the Tower of Babel? Isn’t it what globalizers dream about today—a world in which we all speak the same language, have the same currency, follow the same accounting practices? It was precisely their sameness that allowed the people of the world in biblical times to cooperate and build that Tower of Babel.33

The Tower of Babel is in essence the story of humanity trying to build a city without assistance from God, so in this respect it is similar to Enlightenment thinking. The attainment of global unity in order to rise up toward the heavens to make a name for humanity is also part of the agenda of globalization. Lesslie Newbigin adds that the story of Babel is

the sad story of the effort of the nations to create their own unity. It is the archetype of all imperial adventures, for “imperialism” is the name we give to programs for human unity other than those initiated by ourselves. Its name is Babel—archetype of megalopolis, of Nineveh and Rome.34

We should therefore carry no illusions that globalization is neutral or that Christians can simply join missions to globalization without diluting the gospel. Nor should we think that globalization represents a new phase of world cooperation when the world will become interdependent instead of promoting national interests above all else. No, the history of the world will continue to be a sordid story of nations dominating other nations for profit. And Scripture’s message of the kingdom of God will continue to demand our sole allegiance to the Lord who will demolish all earthly kingdoms to replace them with his own in due course, as prophesied in Dan 2:44.

In the meantime, dependency has not gone away but has increased during the period of globalization. Even in nations like India that have benefited from globalization, churches remain dependent on outside help although their members are becoming more prosperous. The only reason can be that attitudes spawned during colonialism have not changed. The infusion of outside wealth does not automatically produce self-supporting churches, but it can certainly retard the move to self-support. What then is the solution for dependency?

Toward a True Postcolonial Mission Methodology

First of all, we should be clear that the need for missions has not diminished at all, despite past successes. Many regions of the globe remain without an effective witness to the lordship of Jesus Christ. In the postcolonial period, mission is changing from the preserve of the wealthy to a shared obligation by all segments of the world Christian movement. In some ways, mission is returning toward a similarity with the first three centuries of Christian expansion, when ordinary Christians from multiple ways of life and cultures joined in spreading the faith, even in the face of opposition and official persecution. Then, as now, there was a single world superpower, but the gospel then was spread not by those at the apex of political power so much as by the weak and marginalized in the world system. We have a unique opportunity to return to this method of missions in the postcolonial period, but only if we can move beyond the dependency syndrome.

The problem with most proposed postcolonial mission methods is that they continue, even unintentionally, to envision Western Christians as remaining in control. Although they see non-Western Christians as providing the work force, they leave Western churches as the funding agents. This effectively continues financial domination by the same parts of the world that ruled in colonialism, so it is not really a new paradigm. In addition, it continues to see the world in the same groupings that prevailed during colonialism, the “developed” versus the “undeveloped.” There is no recognition that in Christ there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free (Col 3:11). On the contrary, the unspoken assumptions driving many mission methods today are the same as those that drive globalization, namely that every society should have the goal of resembling the Western nations.

Newbigin again forcefully rejects such notions:

The people of the world will not permanently accept a situation in which a rich minority determines what and how much knowledge, healing, and skill shall be made available to the rest. In the second place, and more fundamentally, it is by no means self-evident that the rest of the world will or should develop the kind of society that has been developed in Europe and North America during the past two hundred years.35

True postcolonial mission methods will reject domination by any one national group as the world leader in missions. A return to biblical models will insist that each part of the body of Christ has much more potential than has been previously recognized, including the potential to operate and fund its own initiatives. Not only has much of the strength of non-Western Christians been overlooked, but it also has been marginalized to the extent that accomplishing the goal of world evangelization is impossible.

Steve Saint discovered that dependency set in among the once-vibrant Waodani Indian Christians of Ecuador. His Aunt Rachel Saint and Elisabeth Elliot led these Amazonian Indians to Christ, but after several decades of well-meaning attention by North American Christians, they had become accustomed to receiving help instead of initiating their own work for Christ. Saint called this sidelining of people such as the Waodani “the Great Omission,”36 meaning that dependent people groups are no longer available to help fulfill the Great Commission. In that case, Saint says, the completion of that commission is no longer possible, since it requires committed believers from all cultural backgrounds and languages.37

The first requirement, therefore, for a true postcolonial mission method is to treat all Christians as equals both in terms of brotherhood and sisterhood in the body of Christ as well as in potential for initiative in the Lord’s work. Furthermore, Western standards for operations will no longer be the criterion for work, as each locale may set standards based on local resources, history, and culture. Technology will be what is locally appropriate and easily maintained. Local ownership of the operations will be essential, in terms of legal, financial, and psychological ownership. With local initiative comes local accountability, something usually missing in current mission models based on the Enlightenment, which assume that Western leadership is essential for progress.

The second requirement, then, is local solutions to local problems. This has been a major failure of globalization, as global initiatives often undermine local initiative and global campaigns often ignore local contexts. Speaking about official government-to-government aid, William Easterly, a former World Bank official, estimates:

The West spent $2.3 trillion on foreign aid over the last five decades and still had not managed to get twelve-cent medicines to children to prevent half of all malaria deaths. The West spent $2.3 trillion and still had not managed to get four-dollar bed nets to poor families.38

Easterly’s recommendation is to change from global planning done primarily by Western nations to an emphasis on local solutions to thorny problems. He contrasts the utopian planner who typifies Western aid at present with what he calls the “Searcher” approach to problems: “A Searcher believes only insiders have enough knowledge to find solutions, and that most solutions must be homegrown.”39 Although Easterly comes from the secular world, he demonstrates a frustration with what are considered normal practices there. Translating his ideas into missiology, his concerns are nothing more than a stress on contextualized methods.

We see this same concern in Scripture repeatedly. God’s election of the human race begins with an obscure man from Ur of the Chaldees, whom he simply commands to move to an obscure part of the planet, Canaan. God does not launch global plans to all parts of the world simultaneously, but he begins in a manger in the poor city of Bethlehem. Jesus is not immediately the obvious Saviour of the whole world, but he begins with the lost sheep of Israel. The worldwide mission to the Gentiles begins with the Holy Spirit selecting one centurion, Cornelius, and persuading Peter to go and meet him. Paul does not typically write theological treatises for all places and times, but he writes highly contextualized letters to specific churches with specific issues. Even the apocalyptic themes of John’s Revelation have specific messages for the seven churches of Asia in their local context. Apparently God is also concerned about local solutions to local problems.

A third requirement for postcolonial missions is that spiritual renewal should take precedence over human ingenuity. Mission models from the Enlightenment rely heavily on human strength and intellect instead of on the power of the Holy Spirit. Western and Westernized missiologists readily adopt the latest ideas from the secular world and adapt them to missions. A return to biblical models will emphasize that God has always worked through those who completely dedicate themselves to him in prayer and faith.

The East African Revival provides a contemporary example. This spiritual renewal produced a remarkable increase in evangelism together with the use of local resources that had previously been assumed to be nonexistent. Describing the effects of the revival that started in 1929 and continues to have an impact around the world, Richard K. MacMaster and Donald R. Jacobs stated:

The East African Revival had been financially self-reliant. When “the saved ones” felt that God was calling them to do something locally or on a broader scale, they simply announced the need and received the funds from the local fellowships. What they could not afford they did not undertake. When they commenced huge projects, like the stratified evangelization of an entire town or city, they did so with their own finances.40

When John Gatu, general secretary of the Presbyterian Church of East Africa from 1964-79, declared a famous moratorium on missionary personnel and funds, it was not because of liberal theology or anti-Western bias, and it was not intended to signal the end of missions.41 Rather it was due to the influence of the East African Revival. Gatu was aware that revival fellowships offered an alternative to remaining dependent on foreign funding and personnel. He sought a hiatus in foreign oversight of his church’s work in order to give African leaders time to decide their own priorities. MacMaster and Jacobs report that within twenty years, Gatu’s moratorium steered his denomination from receiving 85 percent of church funds from abroad to receiving 85 percent locally.42

Looking at Scripture, the entire Book of Acts is a treatise on the driving force of the Holy Spirit in missions, regardless of human plans or ingenuity. When Peter was reluctant to evangelize Gentiles, God intervened with visions of unclean food and a command to Peter to kill and eat them (Acts 10:11-13). While Peter was preaching to Cornelius as a result of this vision, the Holy Spirit intervened to create a Gentile Pentecost. Peter then, and only then, acknowledged that Gentiles also had the right to be baptized (Acts 10:44-47). Repeatedly in Acts, the Holy Spirit overcomes deep-seated human prejudice to assert divine wisdom in the new age of Christ. Missions was pushed forward even through persecution (Acts 8:1-4). When human strength seems small, and resources seem few, the Holy Spirit can still find a way for the gospel to progress.

The fourth requirement for true postcolonial missions is that the mission will proceed out of apparent weakness rather than strength. Scripture is replete with examples of how God chose lowly people to bring him glory. Barren women like Hannah, who turned to God in ardent prayer, become the mothers of important leaders. Cowardly individuals like Gideon become heroes of faith once they submit to God. Despised men, like Joseph, become the deliverers of Israel, even when they must go through years of misfortune first. A shepherd becomes the most famous king of Israel. A poor family that can only afford to offer the Lord two pigeons as a sacrifice on behalf of their firstborn son is chosen to raise the Son of God. Fishermen become the first apostles who follow Jesus. Tax collectors and prostitutes are invited into the kingdom of heaven ahead of the religious leaders. A formerly demonized woman is the one who first sees the risen Savior. Even the great missionary apostle, Paul, is given a thorn in the flesh to keep him humble. The Lord announces to Paul this fundamental principle, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9). God’s plan involves using human weakness to show his glory.

As Jesus emptied himself of his divine prerogatives in order to engage in missions in this world, so missionaries who come from backgrounds of human strength will necessarily empty themselves of that prerogative in order to minister like Jesus out of weakness. Since that is so difficult for us to do effectively, it means that we can expect postcolonial missions to be led by the most unlikely people, namely, the poor and despised. God’s glory will be seen best when such people are empowered by the Holy Spirit to go forth in missions without being told to by other people. When the Holy Spirit initiates mission, then the financial conundrums we often find ourselves in disappear. Spirit-filled Christians find themselves going forward to spread the gospel without outside help as it was in the early churches. Indeed, the way the early churches went about missions becomes the paradigm for postcolonial missions.

The fifth requirement is that we should return to Paul’s mission methods, as they satisfy all four requirements mentioned so far. Even though Paul lived in the time of a superpower that controlled life in the territory where he lived and worked, Paul did not use the same methods that the Roman Empire used to spread its influence. Rather, he rejected the tactics that the empire approved of: “For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds” (2 Cor 10:3-4). Paul saw the battle as spiritual, and designed his methods of mission accordingly. Too often, Western missions have seen the battle as technical and designed engineering solutions. These solutions are so foreign to the context that they create dependency on expatriates to implement and maintain their systems. Paul, however, never created dependency because he trusted his converts to be filled with the Holy Spirit and to think for themselves.

In comparing Paul’s methods with more recent missionary paradigms, Roland Allen comments:

The first duty of a teacher is not to solve all difficulties for the pupil, and to present him with the ready-made answer, but to awaken the spirit, to teach the pupil to realize his own powers. . . . As the converts exercise that power, as they yield themselves to the indwelling Spirit, they discover the greatness of the power and the grace of the Spirit, and in so doing they reveal it to their teacher. But we are like teachers who cannot resist telling their pupils the answer the moment a difficulty arises.43

In other words, Allen is accusing missionaries of being paternalists. This flaw is still alive in some popular paradigms that create dependency today. Paul avoided paternalism by moving on quite soon and by expecting converts to learn through their mistakes. Indeed, much of the New Testament is a result of the mistakes that Paul’s converts made. He gave them enough space to make their own decisions, and then interacted with them about the consequences by letter.

Avoiding Dependency

In order to avoid dependency, indigenous churches and Christian institutions must be consciously contextualized to their local situation. Their own leaders should have thought through what it means to be the body of Jesus Christ in the context, taking into account the unique history, culture, and customs of the society in which they minister, and studying what God’s word has to say about these issues. Once a group of churches or Christian institutions has a clear picture of God’s call for them, they will not be so tempted to accept partnerships that create dependency, for they will know what they stand for. They will avoid importing foreign systems and technology that are difficult for them to operate or fund by themselves. They will assess foreign ideas about what their task consists of in the light of God’s revelation to them in Scripture. They will refuse to undertake projects that they cannot sustain, and will seek to empower their own people to develop the skills needed for their own work. They will agree to let no one do for them what they can do for themselves.

Robert Reese is Associate Professor of Cross-Cultural Ministry at Mid-Atlantic Christian University. He was part of a church planting team in Zimbabwe from1981 to 2002. Robert was Director of the World Mission Resource Center operated by World Mission Associates in Lancaster, Pennsylvania from 2005 to 2008. His role was primarily educational, in order to foster sound mission principles that would not create unhealthy dependency on foreign resources in the developing world. In addition to various articles published in academic journals, Robert is the author of Roots and Remedies of the Dependency Syndrome in World Missions (William Carey Library, 2010). He can be contacted at robert.reese@macuniversity.edu.

Bibliography

Allen, Roland. Missionary Methods: St. Paul’s or Ours? Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1962.

Crouch, Andy. “Powering Down: Interview by Andy Crouch.” Christianity Today 51, no. 9 (September 2007): 38-42.

Easterly, William. The White Man’s Burden: Why the West’s Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good. New York: Penguin, 2006.

Friedman, Thomas L. The Lexus and the Olive Tree. New York: Anchor Books, 2000.

Gupta, Paul R. and Sherwood G. Lingenfelter. Breaking Tradition to Accomplish Vision: Training Leaders for a Church-Planting Movement. Winona Lake, IN: BMH Books, 2006.

MacMaster, Richard K., with Donald R. Jacobs. A Gentle Wind of God: The Influence of the East African Revival. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 2006.

Masih, J. P. “‘People Movement’ Problems.” Evangelical Missions Quarterly 22, no. 3 (July 1986): 300-2.

Newbigin, Lesslie. The Open Secret: An Introduction to the Theology of Mission. Revised edition. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995.

Pickett, J. Waskom. Christian Mass Movements in India. New York: Abingdon Press, 1933.

Reese, Robert. Roots and Remedies of the Dependency Syndrome in World Missions. Pasadena, CA: William Carey, 2010.

Ripley, Amanda. “From Riches to Rags.” Time, December 26, 2005–January 2, 2006, 72-88.

Rowell, John. To Give or Not To Give? Rethinking Dependency, Restoring Generosity, and Redefining Sustainability. Tyrone, GA: Authentic, 2006.

Sachs, Jeffrey D. The End of Poverty: Economic Possibilities for Our Time. New York: Penguin, 2005.

Saint, Steve. The Great Omission: Fulfilling Christ’s Commission Completely. Seattle: YWAM Publishing, 2001.

Sine, Tom. Mustard Seed versus McWorld: Reinventing Life and Faith for the Future. Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999.

Tucker, Ruth. From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya: A Biographical History of Christian Missions. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1983.

Yohannan, K. P. The Coming Revolution in World Missions. Altamonte Springs, FL: Creation House, 1986.

1 High imperialism refers to the period when European powers set up formal control of many parts of Africa and Asia.

2 Lesslie Newbigin, The Open Secret: An Introduction to the Theology of Missions, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 86.

3 This is the title of a poem written by Rudyard Kipling in 1899 to urge the United States to colonize the Philippines.

4 Ruth A. Tucker, From Jerusalem to Irian Jaya: A Biographical History of Christian Missions (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1983), 135.

5 Ibid., 221.

6 Ibid., 219.

7 J. Waskom Pickett, Christian Mass Movements in India (New York: Abingdon Press, 1933), 219.

8 Ibid., 221.

9 Ibid., 314.

10 Ibid., 330.

11 Ibid., 337.

12 Ibid., 352.

13 J. P. Masih, “‘People Movement’ Problems,” Evangelical Missions Quarterly 22, no. 3 (1986): 300-1.

14 Tom Sine, Mustard Seed versus McWorld: Reinventing Life and Faith for the Future (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999).

15 Jeffrey D. Sachs, The End of Poverty: Economic Possibilities for Our Time (New York: Penguin, 2005), 43.

16 Ibid.

17 Ibid., 29.

18 Ibid., 358.

19 Sine, 20.

20 Andy Crouch, “Powering Down: Interview by Andy Crouch,” Christianity Today, September 2007, 42.

21 Amanda Ripley, “From Riches to Rags,” Time, 26 December 2005-2 January 2006, 77.

22 Sachs, 280.

23 John Rowell, To Give or Not To Give? Rethinking Dependency, Restoring Generosity, and Redefining Sustainability (Tyrone, GA: Authentic, 2006), 142.

24 Ibid., 252.

25 Ibid., 23.

26 K. P. Yohannan, The Coming Revolution in World Missions (Altamonte Springs, FL: Creation House, 1986), 134.

27 Ibid.

28 Ibid., 193.

29 Paul R. Gupta and Sherwood G. Lingenfelter, Breaking Tradition to Accomplish Vision: Training Leaders for a Church-Planting Movement (Winona Lake, IN: BMH Books, 2006), 198.

30 Ibid., 199.

31 Ibid., 182.

32 Ibid., 214.

33 Thomas L. Friedman, The Lexus and the Olive Tree (New York: Anchor Books, 2000), 472.

34 Newbigin, 31.

35 Newbigin, 93.

36 Steve Saint, The Great Omission: Fulfilling Christ’s Commission Completely (Seattle: YWAM Publishing, 2001).

37 Ibid., 50.

38 William Easterly, The White Man’s Burden: Why the West’s Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good (New York: Penguin Press, 2006), 4.

39 Ibid., 6.

40 Richard K. MacMaster with Donald R. Jacobs, A Gentle Wind of God: The Influence of the East African Revival (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 2006), 257.

41 Robert Reese, Roots and Remedies of the Dependency Syndrome in World Missions (Pasadena, CA: William Carey, 2010): 54-6, 63.

42 MacMaster with Jacobs, 258.

43 Roland Allen, Missionary Methods: St. Paul’s or Ours? (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1962), 145-146.

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Talking For Money: The Donor Industry as Fulfillment of Ancient African Religious Ideals

Certain African stories suggest that outside “aid” received by African people today is fulfilling ancient utopian ideals. It is the actualization of a means of running an economy and society through friendship and relationship—including with the departed. The fiends in these ideals are evil spirits. The utopian ideals being based on “magical” beliefs means that English in Africa is a language of magic. The continuity of this dependency-based self-benefitting system is frequently maintained by the ignorance of Westerners. Creation of dependency on the West is often not a perceived problem for African people. One key to grasping the misunderstandings going on is the realization that, contrary to popular perception, words do not carry meanings. In the present study, for example, English adjusts to local African meanings, which the original purveyors of English then misunderstand. This article advocates that some Western missionaries should attempt to develop a reputation in Africa other than that of donor. They could imitate the ministry of Jesus, who did not function as a “donor.” Otherwise, the African church may continue to find that Western money is the bottleneck in all its projects, and the Western church’s role in places like Africa may never extend beyond that which it funds.

Part of the ancient mythology of the Luo people in East Africa depicts mankind as receiving daily needs without exerting difficult physical effort.  The current system of aid and donations in Africa appears to actualize this historic utopian ideal.

A Luo story tells of a miaha (newly married lady) being sent to take a hoe to a field.1 Had she simply left the hoe there, it would have dug the field by itself overnight, we are told.  Instead, because she was determined to please her new family, the miaha swung the hoe and began turning the soil using her own strength. Unfortunately this act broke the spell.  From that day on the Luo people have had to work by the sweat of their brow. But the existence of the story tells us that the Luo people have not forgotten their utopian ideals.

Utopia, Magic, and African History

The story of the miaha has striking parallels with the biblical account in which Eve’s listening to the serpent resulted in the “fall” of humankind to a state of having to work hard for daily bread (Gen 3).  The notion of a prior era of close fellowship with “god” and “easy living” followed by a fall seems to be widespread in human societies. But how consequential is this utopian view for contemporary life?  If Max Weber was right in identifying a “Protestant work ethic” arising from European Christianity, this utopia has taken backseat in Europe.2 But has it elsewhere?

“When an American needs money, he works for it. When an African needs money, he talks for it,” says David Maranz.3 These seem to be radically different approaches to economics.  If Maranz is correct, then money for an African comes from a person and not from a process designed to effect its generation. The title of Maranz’s book, African Friends and Money Matters, as well as its content, suggest that economics and friendship are particularly closely integrated in Africa. Maranz goes so far as to say that in Africa “a disinterested friendship is something without sense.”4

Whereas some of my specific examples and illustrations are drawn from the Kenya Luo people, with whom I have lived since 1993, I suggest that insights acquired in this essay apply more widely to sub-Saharan Africa as a whole.  While acknowledging local and regional differences, I agree with Maranz,5 Laurenti Magesa,6 and others that the culture of the people of sub-Saharan Africa has many similarities. Hence what applies specifically to Luoland in Kenya certainly in broad outline also applies much more widely across the continent.

Africa’s worldview being holistic, as is widely supposed, impacts the nature of economics in Africa. Whereas in the West many people are overtly oriented to economic activity as a category of life, economics in Africa is simply a part of a more complex whole. As a result, economic success in Africa may be seen as arising more from pleasing one’s ancestors than from following particular economic strategies. Hence, Robert Blunt found investment and savings advice columns adjacent to articles on how to avoid witches in a Kenyan periodical.7 Blunt’s research into what is going on under the surface of Kenyan society finds a preoccupation with chasing away devils. This is in line with my own findings that the good life is in much of Africa known to come by default, while people’s energies are expended in removing untoward spiritual influences.8

Such spiritual influences are thought to arise from people; dead or alive.9 Africa is deeply oriented to subjects. The so-called “objective” is seen as being a part of, and subsumed under, subjects. In that sense, in traditional Africa, there is no objectivity. African photographers, I discovered while in Zambia some years ago, unless deeply influenced by the West, will only take pictures of people, never of scenes, views, flowers, or other things. It is difficult for Westerners to understand that “The Negro African does not draw a line between himself and the object.”10 Human physical, social, and spiritual existence, all arising from the (metaphorical) heart of a person, are the sum of people’s attention and interest. Things are seen as extensions of hearts.

Anthropologists have extensively studied the link perceived in parts of Africa between one’s heart and one’s environment or surroundings. They have thrown some light onto this understanding for the benefit of Westerners in their work on African magic. Seminal work was done by classic researchers like E. E. Evans-Pritchard in his book Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic Among the Azande.11 Witchbound Africa, on the Kaonde people in Zambia, was first published in 1923.12 More recently, Christopher O. Davis articulates the blurred (for Westerners) relationship between things, forces, and, human subjects in her Death in Abeyance: Illness and Therapy Among the Tabwa of Central Africa.13 Unfortunately for scholars using English, we find a paucity of terms in English to help us to understand this area of life, because the English language has (in its mother-tongue use) been monopolized by science.  Recognizing that I am unable to overcome such language difficulties, perhaps the best I can do while asking for the reader’s considered understanding is to say that much in life, and in some senses the whole of life, in Africa is governed by magic.14

We have made a few hypotheses so far.  One is that there is a sense in which African people are seeking for a utopian life that could be theirs if only they would succeed in deterring the evil (or bad) forces that threaten it. African people seek this ideal through the development of relationship, and the target relationships are with those who are seen as having succeeded economically (once considered in terms of wives, children, and land; but nowadays also in terms of Western measures of prosperity).  Hence, African people search for patrons, this being to them the way to progress in life.15 The means of acquisition of desired wealth can be described by the term magic.

In this sense; aid to Africa is magical and mystical. African people can easily find foreign aid to be a confirmation of the above-mentioned utopian ideal(s).  In Africa today, aid flows are incessant.  While they may change from one form to another, they never stop.  They are not earned or achieved in any rational way; their source is clearly rooted in the “subjective;” the whim of other people, as directed by spiritual forces. They seem to vindicate and confirm ancient African beliefs about the acquisition of wealth through non-rational, “magical” means.16

As a result of these perceptions, the current socio-economic climate in Africa is proving to be an enormous boost to traditional religious ideals.  The dreams of many prior generations are being fulfilled in the present.  Careful negotiations with the “the West” can release enormous supplies of all kinds of material wealth.  A traditional attitude of helplessness and dependence on others once focused on the dead but now on Westerners is paying dividends. As the influx of aid continues, the African is careful to remain on guard; protective measures against bad magic, life’s fundamental orientation to pleasing the dead, and ambiguity in life that prevents evil forces from taking a hold continue.17

The position and identity of the white man as a patron is frequently reconfirmed.  Millions of African children spend seven, eight, twelve, or more of the prime years of their youth learning European languages and European ways.  These have proved to be the great languages of magic in the current era. “Talking for money” is more and more effective, and the addition of extensive and widespread communication media such as the internet further enables the finding of Western people with whom to communicate.

To this point, we have outlined some very serious barriers to social and economic advance (I write as a Westerner and not as an African, for whom the above are often seen not as problems but benefits) that require urgent attention. At the moment most Western aid workers do not even recognize their impact in confirming and strengthening traditional religious beliefs. Not recognizing this impact, they cannot be expected to be addressing and resolving problems arising from it. Westerners do not perceive what is happening—as the issues concerned disappear in the process of translation. The ever-growing identification of whites as wealthy patrons is constantly reaffirmed. Because the current understanding of whites is lucrative for Africans, it is hardly in the interest of Africans to inform them of the way their actions are fulfilling ancient religious ideals. In a sense it can be said that it is in the interest of African people to maintain the ignorance of outsiders with regard to what goes on in their own communities. This raises and reinforces barriers to the gaining of mutual understanding, which means that when Westerners take the reigns, power in Africa is more and more in the hands of the ignorant.

My allusion above to keeping whites “in ignorance” is in part an outcome of something articulated in detail by Maranz. Maranz puts it like this: “Africans readily share space and things but are possessive of knowledge. . . . Westerners readily share their knowledge but are possessive of things and space.”18 Whereas Western libraries contain numerous books written by people spilling the contents of their heart onto paper, for many African people, so opening one’s heart can invite spiritual attack. It follows that concealing issues can bring blessing, and indeed in practice this is often found to be the case with respect to white donors; new or short-term visitors from the West are frequently much more inclined to material generosity than those who are more au fait about what is happening on the African scene. That is, the most lucrative contacts with Europeans are often with those who remain ignorant of local realities.

It sometimes seems in Africa today that the indigenous black population takes all whites as patrons or potential patrons. A relationship with a patron is a particular kind of relationship, with deeply ingrained expectations and conventions.  It is certainly a relationship of respect, for which read (it is hard to get this into English): distance, a sort of formality, and a degree of concealment of truth.  I wonder whether such a universal “standoff,” which I guess in British English one might call racism (in reverse), is very healthy?

Patrons and Language

If I am correct so far, then (almost) the only type of language used by African people and communities in relation to whites is the language that is appropriate to patrons.

A problem arises if Western missionaries do not realize this dynamic.  I suspect that few African people are unaware of this dependence-communication.19 I suspect also that few whites are fully aware of it—how can they be, as it is generated by cultures foreign to them?

African people are on the whole perfectly competent at forming words, sentences, paragraphs and more in the language(s) that have been exported to them—for example, English.  What Western missionaries do not fully realize is that someone sharing words and sentences of a particular language that they have been obliged to learn in the course of formal schooling since childhood does not amount to their having grasped the meaning that the originators of that language might have in mind.

There seems to be an easy deceitfulness in all of this.  If someone says “I have seen an elephant” then we assume that they know what an elephant looks like, when actually it is quite possible (and easy) to say “I have seen an elephant” without ever having seen one.  The ability to say “sustainable development” does not in itself show that someone has understood what a British or American person means by such a term. To say “Tanzania is modern” will mean something different if said by an African, who has not been able to experience whatever it is to “be modern” in America, than if it is said by an American.  A Tanzanian saying that “Tanzania is modern” is frankly an insufficient basis for an American to conclude that Tanzania is modern, because the latter’s idea of what is modern will be vastly different from that of a Tanzanian.  Some words have “false friends”—for example, what in the UK could be called a “shack” in which you can get a cup of tea is in East African English boldly and routinely called a “hotel”.

The expectation that a word can move across a vast cultural divide and not change fundamentally in nature and content is frankly not rational but magical. Thus it seems to me that one might accuse Western missionaries who base their actions on what they hear nationals say to them in English by interpreting according to the rules of Western English, of believing in “magic.” It can be said, in a sense, that every word someone uses assumes their whole culture, and every expression is correctly understood only in the light of that culture.  An adult person cannot know a word without implicitly attaching vast amounts of context and background to it. Try saying any word to yourself.  Then think of different parts of your particular history and context that link to that word.  Much of that is specific, individual knowledge.  This applies even to scientific terms.  If someone says, “methane is CH4,” my mind goes back to a particular chemistry lab in a particular place where a particular person taught me while of a particular age—and so on.  My hearing a word itself, such as “methane,” brings to the fore many links and associations in my mind. The same applies to any word.

The potential for miscommunication becomes vast when someone, or even whole communities, learns someone else’s language without sharing in the culture from which the language arises. There is a (vast!) difference between a French person learning to speak English while at a French school, and another French person learning English by interacting with people on the streets of Oxford. The former will, by default, apply a French-person’s life context to the English words that they are using. This happens more and more with the current global usage of English, and the possibility of English spreading almost totally devoid of its culture, as enabled by widespread print and electronic media, is great.

Foreign words in and of themselves, I suggest, usually do not challenge an environment that they enter if shorn of their foreign content, as words of course are!  Rather, foreign words are appropriated into the new context.  How, after all, can foreign words effectively challenge a strange cultural situation, when on account of the fact that the situation is strange, the words in the process of cross-cultural transfer loose the contextual component of their meaning that I suggest is invariably vital to their original anticipated function?

Going back to the case of patronage above can easily furnish us with examples.  “I love you” said to a patron on whom one is dependent for one’s daily existence is clearly different from “I love you” said to a beautiful girl one happened to meet. “Yes, I will” in a context in which “no, I won’t” would endanger my life is different from “yes, I will” to someone who offered for me to join them for supper. The realization that a client is speaking to a patron will affect one’s understanding of the words spoken. In other words, someone listening to or even participating in a patron/client conversation while ignorant of its patron/client nature can easily miss the whole plot and will certainly misunderstand. Therefore, the meaning of words, sentences, and even whole conversations or books differs according to the context in which they are understood.

What then are the implications of having a patronage system dominate a community? Institutions set up in an environment of patronage may be established and maintained not through the heart-will of the people, but as a result of particular patronage offered.  So someone will work as a nurse in a hospital, not because that is how in their own mind the sick should be tended, but because there is a salary on offer for doing it.  Someone will teach in a school, not because they value the insights that they are imparting, but because that is the way they know to make a living. Housekeepers, UN employees, even Bible school teachers and indigenous “missionaries” operating in a patron-client system (being paid for their services and having the perimeters of their roles dictated to them) are all doing that which may be contrary to their deeper heart-felt orientations, because they are in need of an income.  All these people are fulfilling particular rituals in pursuance of a fundamental objective—receiving finance. They are all going to be careful to conceal whatever may run contrary to the required ongoing flow of funds.  That is, they will be careful not to tell the truth to their donor(s) whenever this appears to contradict the donor’s primary aim(s).

The solution to this shroud of secrecy surrounding every patronage situation is simple, if also complex: that some Western workers in sub-Saharan Africa stop playing the role of patron, for at least a part of what they do.

A prominent feature of African society today is that while people have been taught how to spend money, they have not necessarily learned how to generate it, except through the sale of poverty in the form of sad stories designed to beget “guilt” in Westerners. This is producing a society in which foreign funding fuels all initiatives. The potential material benefit arising from foreign alternatives results in locally based thinking being increasingly squashed. Misunderstandings arising can generate and perpetuate so-called corruption.

Can anything be made out of African roots that is not a little-understood copy of what is foreign? Does the West have anything to offer that is not money that only they know how to generate? The disjunction between indigenous understanding and increasingly widespread every day proceedings is growing dangerously wide.20 The chances of bringing indigenous thinking up to speed with what is happening seem to be getting slimmer and slimmer.  I could share my own experience as a Westerner who came to this continent as a missionary in 1988 with the hope that I might understand and encourage the African people in their godly walk.  Over two decades on, the system of patronage has only gained ground. The only role for a foreigner in my home (Kenyan) community often seems to be that of patron. Maranz tells us: “The Westerners are people who appear to have ample resources that many Africans would like to have them share but lack most other qualifications for meaningful relationship.”21 One’s influence rarely goes further than one’s money.  Even local knowledge acquired over years of exposure to a people appears to be of little help. For reasons explained above, ignorance on the part of Westerners may be preferable to understanding in the frenzy of activity pursuing aid money.

The Apostasy of the Church?

Christ had ample opportunity to be a “patron.”  His temptations included that of turning the very stones around him into bread (Luke 4:3). He refused.  He did at times feed thousands (Mark 6:30-44; 8:1-21), but then it seems he almost regretted having taken such actions (John 6:15). He is certainly not recorded as having solicited major funds from governments or wealthy businessmen.  He was, it seems, very careful to ensure that those who followed him were true followers and not only after food or money.

Is this a contrast with the church of today?  God’s servants who seek to put themselves at the hub of numerous donor projects can become as prone to accusations of corruption as anyone else. Donors attach strings, which at times restrict the church in its options in approaching people with the Christian message.

What can one say about the church in the West?  Have Western Christians become so addicted to their comfortable lifestyle as to have abdicated their charitable responsibility to the problems faced by people around the globe?  Or is it that they have swallowed whole the materialistic solutions that the media’s presentation of world issues proposes to them?  Are they right in expressing Christian love in a way that is devoid of relationship—by acting as donors to those whose cultures and walk they cannot begin to comprehend?  Is money a sufficient alternative to a living, breathing, crying, feeling, minister of God’s word?

Someone holding the purse-strings usually cannot help having a say. What they say and how they say it becomes rather consequential.  Westerners used to using money advocate remedies and solutions that require money, even when other alternatives are available.  When these money-solutions are adopted, they frequently result in a rise in costs out of proportion to the increase in benefit from a given project.  Hence, projects are always short of money.  The pressure is always on the donor to give more, while local managers are waiting, sometimes twiddling their thumbs, in expectation.  The bottleneck is funding, so the pressure is on the distant donor while the local person sits pretty.

Impact on the West

Globalization these days results in Western churches paying more attention to issues pertaining to distant countries.  “Extreme need over there” can result in people being absorbed in the foreign, to the neglect of local issues that they understand and really could resolve.  The secular media’s domination of global communication affects local churches’ perception of global issues. This in turn orients people’s understanding to the perception that money is the solution to all problems—from prostitution to hunger to Satanism to earthquakes—you name it! Is this reduction of the churches’ role to fundraising appropriate? Is it really Christian? Is it scriptural? Is it even godly?

I have suggested above that for a Western missionary to be in the role of patron easily acts to re-affirm tradition rather than to advocate change. Shutting off the role for a patron in mission opens up numerous alternative and (I suggest) much more challenging and certainly more Christian avenues of service for foreign missionaries: nurses will be needed to nurse and not diagnose and treat only as far as their budget can stretch.  Teachers of the Word will be needed but will not use their mother tongue when thousands of miles from home.  Pastors can pastor instead of being expected to fundraise.  Evangelists will not have to promise cars, PA systems, and English classes in order to draw their congregations.  The above roles will leave the missionaries concerned free to learn from the people they are reaching.  Thus they will be free to draw nearer to them.  They will be able to relate to them socially as well as professionally.  They will be able to integrate with them instead of only to “oversee” what they are doing.  They will be able to recognize and interact with the deep spiritual issues that will make God’s Word come alive.

It is the latter revival of spirituality that can bring deep, heart-felt changes, which can be a foundation for healthy life-style changes around the world.  The re-realization of the importance of spirituality in human existence is bound to have a kick-back effect on the West, which has in recent decades been so heavily influenced by historical materialism: the belief that “it is not the consciousness of men that determines their existence, but their social existence that determines their consciousness.”22 A revival of the church is as vital in Western nations as in other parts of the world, after all.

Conclusion

Living in such a way as to be vulnerable to a foreign people being reached by the gospel is not an optional privilege for a few eccentrics.  It is a necessary prior step to gaining an understanding that one can acquire in no other way.   More specifically, the Western missionary must carefully examine and overcome the institution of the patron in order to play a part in rescuing African societies from their demise at the onslaught of Westernization on their communities. Today’s missionary force unfortunately all too often supports and confirms the patron orientation—as foreign missionaries plant themselves on the top of the African pile, and gain a hearing in proportion to the size of their budget. There is a desperate need for ‘vulnerable missionaries’ from the West to ‘poor’ places in the world such as Africa; that is, for some Western missionaries to be ready to minister using only the languages and resources of the people they are reaching.

Jim Harries (PhD) served for three years amongst the Kaonde people in Zambia. Since 1993 he has lived in a Luo village in western Kenya. In that time he has been teaching Theological Education by Extension at Yala Theological Centre and Siaya Theological Centre in western Kenya. He lectures part time at Kima International School of Theology. He has learned the languages of the Kaonde, Luo and Swahili people. Harries is the chairman of the Alliance for Vulnerable Mission and serves as adjunct faculty at William Carey International University and Global University, both in the USA. He can be contacted at jimoharries@gmail.com.

Bibliography

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Davis, Christopher O. Death in Abeyance: Illness and Therapy Among the Tabwa of Central Africa. London: Edinburgh University Press, 2000.

Evans-Pritchard, E. E. Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the Azande. New York: Clarendon.

Harries, Jim. “Pragmatic Theory Applied to Christian Mission in Africa: With Special Reference to Luo Responses to ‘Bad’ in Gem, Kenya.” PhD thesis, University of Birmingham, 2007. http://etheses.bham.ac.uk/15.

________. “Good-by-Default and Evil in Africa.” Missiology: An International Review 34, no. 2 (April 2006): 151-164.

________. “The Magical Worldview in the African Church: What Is Going On?” Missiology: An International Review 24, no. 4 (October 2000): 487-502.

Magesa, Laurenti. African religion: The moral traditions of abundant life. Nairobi: Paulines Publications Africa, 1997.

Maranz, David. African Friends and Money Matters: Observations from Africa. Dallas: SIL International, 2001.

Marx, Karl. A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy. Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1977 [1859]. http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1859/critique-pol-economy/index.htm.

Melland, Frank H. In Witch-Bound Africa: An Account of the Primitive Kaonde Tribe and Their Beliefs. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1923.

Ogot, Grace. Miaha. London: Heinemann Educational Books, 1983.

Senghor, Léopold Sédar. On African Socialism. New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1964.

Weber, Max. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd., 1930.

1 Grace Ogot, Miaha (London: Heinemann Educational Books, 1983).

2 Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd., 1930).

3 David Maranz, African Friends and Money Matters: Observations from Africa (Dallas: SIL International, 2001), 23.

4 Ibid, 65.

5 Ibid, 2.

6 Laurenti Magesa, African religion: The moral traditions of abundant life (Nairobi: Paulines Publications Africa, 1997), 26.

7 Robert Blunt, “Satan Is An Imitator: Kenya’s Recent Cosmology of Corruption,” in Producing African Futures: Ritual and Reproduction in a New Liberal Age, ed. Brad Weiss (Boston: Brill, 2004), 317.

8 Jim Harries, “Good-by-Default and Evil in Africa,” Missiology: An International Review 34, no. 2 (April 2006): 151-164.

9 Jim Harries, “Pragmatic Theory Applied to Christian Mission in Africa: With Special Reference to Luo Responses to ‘Bad’ in Gem, Kenya” (PhD thesis, University of Birmingham, 2007), 219-223, http://etheses.bham.ac.uk/15.

10 Léopold Sédar Senghor, On African Socialism (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1964), 72.

11 E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the Azande (New York: Clarendon, 1976).

12 Frank H. Melland, In Witch-Bound Africa: An Account of the Primitive Kaonde Tribe and Their Beliefs (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1923).

13 Christopher O. Davis, Death in Abeyance: Illness and Therapy Among the Tabwa of Central Africa (London: Edinburgh University Press, 2000).

14 Clearly this is a simplification; it raises the question of the meaning of magic. It does not mean that Africans themselves consider their lives to be governed by something called “magic.” Yet, I believe this statement can be helpful in assisting Westerners to understand what they will find on the ground in many parts of Africa. See Jim Harries, “The Magical Worldview in the African Church: What Is Going On?” Missiology: An International Review 24, no. 4 (October 2000): 487-502, for further details.

15 Maranz, 137.

16 I appreciate that English usage would not usually associate someone’s “whim” with being influenced by spiritual forces—this being one of the points in this study at which we meet with the limitations of English.

17 Maranz, 88. Ambiguity in one’s actions can throw evil spirits off one’s scent, so to speak.

18 Ibid., 30-31.

19 However that may be understood in their particular milieu.

20 In reference to “proceedings,” I mean things like the educational system, medical practices, administrative procedures and so on that, rather than having grown from the development of indigenous understanding, are transplanted foreign imports.

21 Maranz, 11.

22 Karl Marx, A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy (Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1977 [1859]), preface, http://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1859/critique-pol-economy/index.htm.