September 9, 2012 | 8:00 a.m.

The Problem with Partiality

Joyce Shin
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 125
James 2:1–10, 14–17

“My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ?”

James 2:1 (NRSV)

All good things come from You.
Let the sweet taste of You
Become the constant blessing on my tongue.

Gunilla Norris
“Saying Grace”

“The letter of James is one of the more useful and practical books in the New Testament. However, it has never been a very popular book”: that is how biblical scholar Frances Taylor Gench introduces the letter of James in her biblical commentary Hebrews and James (p. 79). In fact, almost all biblical scholars of this letter have agreed that the letter of James has suffered historically from an underappreciation by the church. Its underappreciation is perhaps attributable more to what seems to be missing from the letter than to what is actually found in it. For example, it is missing any robust references to Jesus—his life and ministry, death and resurrection. Furthermore, the letter does not proclaim how God saves people through grace. That is why Martin Luther criticized the letter of James as having “nothing of the nature of the gospel about it” (Frances Taylor Gench, Hebrews and James, p. 79).

The most striking critique has been the criticism that it is “short on grace and long on ‘works’” (p. 79). It is true that the letter of James, from beginning to end, is full of moral instruction on how to live your life. And once that becomes clear, so does its purpose. Unlike the letters of Paul, which had an evangelizing purpose to proclaim the good news to potential and new converts, the letter of James addresses people a generation later, a people who are already familiar with the central teachings of the Christian faith. The purpose of the letter of James is to call Christians to live a Christian life.

What you believe should actually make a difference in how you live. That is the main theme resounding throughout the letter of James: “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? . . . So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.” The letter of James is one of the New Testament’s most persistent reminders that Christian faith should make a genuine, noticeable, and visible difference in how we live our lives, and for that reason, the letter of James has been referred to as a “showcase of Christian living” (Frances Taylor Gench, Hebrews and James, p. 80). No aspect of our lives is too small to be exhibited; everything we do and everything we say should exhibit the faith we profess.

That’s a lot of pressure, for it requires a high degree of self-consciousness at all times. For anyone, no matter what one’s religious commitments may or may not be, living morally takes some degree of self-consciousness. In the letter of James, however, living a moral life calls for a degree of self-consciousness higher than the degree to which you and I might be accustomed. This shouldn’t be surprising really, for we know that the Christians whom the letter of James addressed were at that time in history religious minorities. Living before the time when Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, this generation of Christians was not yet in the social mainstream, and they certainly did not enjoy elevated social and political status. As minorities often are, these Christians were called to be highly self-conscious of every aspect of the way they lived their lives.

A couple of years ago, clergy from different religious communities in the Chicagoland area were invited by the Council of Islamic Organizations of Greater Chicago to attend the Muslim community’s annual traditional celebration of Eid, a holiday that marks the end of Ramadan. Following the lunar calendar, Eid happened to fall on the eve of 9/11, and Muslim communities all across the United States were nervous that non-Muslim Americans would not know about this coincidence and would therefore misinterpret the celebrations of Eid as dishonoring the solemn anniversary of 9/11. In a proactive effort to prevent potential misunderstanding by the public, clergy were invited to a press conference at which time we could show our solidarity with our Muslim friends. Before the press conference began, we were invited to view from stadium seats the program that preceded the prayers. I will never forget what I witnessed. The gathering took place in Bridgeview, Illinois, at Toyota Park, a large outdoor stadium; hundreds of Muslims from the Chicagoland area were seated with their prayer mats, filling the entire stadium field. Before prayers began, several prominent political and civic leaders spoke to the crowd. They expressed their support of and friendship with the Muslim community. Then the imam of the Mosque Foundation in Bridgeview spoke. Addressing the large crowd, the imam spoke about the duty Muslims have to live exceptionally upstanding and moral lives, lives that would reflect the best values of the Islamic faith so that their neighbors, colleagues, and fellow citizens would come to appreciate, rather than fear and even hate, Islam. As I heard these words reverberating over the loud stadium speakers and as I watched so many children, seated with their families, also listening to these words, it struck me that a whole generation of Muslim Americans would grow up feeling the great weight of self-consciousness being placed upon them.

In a book that won the 1998 Multicultural Book of the Year award, psychologist and President of Spelman College Beverly Daniel Tatum explains the development of minority identity. In writing about the complexity of identity, she describes an exercise that she regularly uses in teaching psychology students. In this exercise, Dr. Tatum asks her students to complete the sentence, “I am __________,” using as many descriptors as they can think of in sixty seconds. She writes, “All kinds of trait descriptions are used—friendly, shy, assertive, intelligent, honest, and so on—but over the years I have noticed something else. Students of color usually mention their racial or ethnic group: for instance, I am Black, Puerto Rican, Korean American” (“Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?” p. 20). She goes on to say, “White students who have grown up in strong ethnic enclaves occasionally mention being Irish or Italian. But in general White students rarely mention being White” (p. 20). When Professor Tatum uses this exercise in coeducational settings, she notices a similar pattern in terms of gender, religion, and sexuality. “Women,” she writes, “usually mention being female, while men don’t usually mention their maleness. Jewish students often say they are Jews, while mainline Protestants rarely mention their religious identification. A student who is comfortable revealing it publicly may mention being gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Though I know most of my students are heterosexual, it is very unusual for anyone to include their heterosexuality on their list” (Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? P. 21). You can see the pattern; it is this: “where a person is a member of the dominant or advantaged social group, the category is usually not mentioned. That element of their identity is taken for granted by them because it is taken for granted by the dominant culture” (p. 21). The elements of their identity that do capture their attention are those that other people notice, the elements that target the attention of others and consequently of themselves.

The Christians to whom the letter of James was addressed must have been self-consciously Christians. Having endured religious persecution, this generation of Christians must have been highly self-conscious, knowing that their words, deeds, and decisions would reflect their identity, their beliefs, their commitments, and their values. Not in control of how they would be perceived and received by a non-Christian public, this generation of Christians had to draw on the religious resources that would help them both stay true to themselves (for the sake of their integrity) and gain social capital (for the sake of their survival).

In the passage we read this morning, we find a situation in which church members seem to be showing favoritism for visitors who hold powerful political and social positions. With great courtesy they are received. It is likely that the cultivation of such relationships could have been seen as mutually beneficial: the magnates of the Roman Empire would have been interested in acquiring the political support of different sectors of society, and the Christians would have been eager to secure safety and even status through their association with powerful and wealthy people. Given the social capital to be gained by both parties, it is understandable that Christians would show this kind of favoritism.

Nevertheless, the letter of James insists that such favoritism is not acceptable. With incredulity, the question is raised: “My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ?” Favoritism is no minor problem. At stake is something too great to risk: one’s belief in the glorious Lord Jesus Christ and the kingdom he promised, a kingdom in which the love commandment to love your neighbor as yourself is itself “the royal law.”

In his book Agape, Yale University professor Gene Outka explains that the commandment to love one’s neighbor is a commandment to regard each and every person as irreducibly valuable (Gene Outka, Agape, p. 13). The value of each person is irreducible because of God’s love for each person. In other words, the commandment to love your neighbor is grounded in the commandment to love God, for if we love God with all our heart, mind, and strength, we will love all whom God loves. If we are faithful to God, we will be faithful to all to whom God is faithful. Thus, the love commandment leaves no room for favoritism of any kind.

The prohibition against favoritism does not mean, however, that there is no social capital to be gained by Christians who are highly self-conscious in the way that they live their lives.

In 1995 when he published the book Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, Robert Putnam, a sociologist from Harvard University, introduced the term “social capital” into our nation’s vocabulary (Eboo Patel, Sacred Ground, p. 74). The term refers to the value that is created by social connections, social networks, social coherence, and social standing. Social capital is not necessarily self-serving. After all, social networks and civic organizations strengthen our society in concrete ways by promoting things like philanthropy, volunteering, and voting (p. 75). Putnam thinks that “where levels of social capital are higher, children grow up healthier, safer, and better educated, people live longer, happier lives, and democracy and the economy work better” (quoted by Eboo Patel in Sacred Ground, p. 74).

Putnam tells us that in America the most significant source of social capital is its religious communities. At the time the book was published, approximately half of America’s volunteerism, philanthropy, and institutional affiliations were based in religious communities (Eboo Patel, Sacred Ground, p. 75). This is not that surprising. What is more surprising and certainly disappointing is that while homogeneity raises social capital, diversity lowers it. For example, communities made up of people from different social and religious backgrounds experience lower levels of confidence in and have lower expectations for social cooperation, civic leadership, voter turn-out, and civic engagement. Putnam writes that if different religious communities were to work together, they could significantly increase social capital and build social cohesion.

Over the course of American history, Christians have gained such social capital that they have given up the high degree of self-consciousness with which they once lived. Though a high level of social capital can be beneficial to any community, it can also lead, consciously or subconsciously, to favoritism, and that, James exhorts us, is too high a moral price to pay. We could benefit from James’ persistent reminder to live more self-consciously Christian lives. We could benefit from his reminder that there is no room for favoritism, because everyone, regardless of his or her social capital, has irreducible value and the only social capital for which we should work is the social capital of others who have less.