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The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost Last week some of you heard me talk about the importance of having faith, of relying on that faith so that we could live lives of hope in a world that would have us live in fear. Faith is one of those words that we use all the time, acting as if we understand exactly what we mean. But I wonder if we do, and I want to explore that theme a bit this week, because our readings this week again touch on having faith. What do we mean exactly when we say we have faith? Philosophers and theologians like to say that faith has two components: One is an intellectual assent—we might express that as a “belief that…,” a belief in this case that God exists, a belief that Jesus in the son of God. The other aspect of faith is more relational, more trusting—we might express this as “belief in….” When we say that we believe in God, we are saying that we trust that God loves us, that Jesus cares for us, that our prayers are heard. Most of the time when we talk about our religious faith we intend both meanings of the word, and that is true when the word is used in scripture as well. Much of Jesus’ teaching ministry in the gospels is aimed at helping the disciples and the crowds who flock to him develop faith—faith that he is indeed the son of God and the Messiah, and faith that his redemptive love is extended to them. In all the gospels, but especially in Mark’s gospel which today’s gospel comes from, it’s clear that this faith comes more easily to some than to others, and in Mark’s gospel especially the disciples are notoriously slow to “get it.” Jesus seems to be always gently prodding, questioning his disciples, testing as it were the depth of their faith. We see that in today’s gospel when he asks his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” “Who do you say that I am?” How we answer that is a measure of faith, isn’t it? Peter managed to give the “right” answer when he replied, “You are the Messiah”, but he also went on to expose his unwillingness to deal with what that would mean for Jesus and for his disciples. I think we are a lot like Peter. We ‘know’ the right answers when we are asked about faith. We stand and affirm our faith each week, in the Nicene Creed and in our other prayers. We proclaim our faith in Jesus—our faith that he is the son of God and our faith that through him we have salvation. We proclaim our willingness to be Christ’s people in the world but like Peter we are reluctant to accept all the implications this has for how we live our lives. Martin Luther, as you may know, asserted that faith alone was sufficient for salvation. According to Luther we are saved by faith alone through God’s grace, freely given. Nothing is required of us except that we have faith. Luther preached this to counter the Catholic notion that God required human cooperation for salvation, and to counter the abuses that had grown out of that teaching. The notion of justification by grace through faith alone, however, gave rise to its own set of questions. Could Christians sit quietly by in a world that ran roughshod over others? Could Christians completely abandon the law, the moral precepts that were contained in scripture? What does it mean to live as a Christian? What does it mean to live a life based on our faith? One answer was given recently by our Presiding Bishop elect, +Katharine Jefferts Schori. As the first woman primate in the Anglican Communion, Bp. Jefferts Schori has received a great deal of media attention. In her many interviews, one question that she has been consistently asked is about her vision for the church. And the answer Bishop Katharine has given consistently is that the church’s mission, its focus must turn more to caring for the world’s poor, the sick, the hungry and the needy. In Time Magazine she says, “Our focus needs to be on feeding people who go to bed hungry, on providing primary education to girls and boys, on healing people with AIDS, on addressing tuberculosis and malaria, on sustainable development.” In Episcopal Life she says, “I have a passion for mission, for the ways we can help to create a world that looks more like God’s dream—a world where the ill are healed, the naked clothed, the homeless housed, all have meaningful work, and no one goes to war anymore.” It will probably come as no surprise to anyone here that this is a vision of the church that I share, but it is not one shared by all, and the new PB’s answer has in fact drawn much criticism, especially from the more conservative factions in the church. The complaints have been varied—“She’s turning the church into a social service agency; the church is here to save souls not serve meals; we need to focus more on preaching Christ crucified, on sin and repentance, on our own relationship with God rather than on taking care of others”—but the underlying intent of all of them is to question the faith of those who view the mission of the church this way. Perhaps I’m naïve, but all the criticism frankly took me by surprise. It took me by surprise because I see the mission of the church as a reflection of faith rather than as a weak replacement for it. What’s more I think that the relationship between faith and works is more complex than these criticisms would imply. And so I found the epistle readings from James last week and this week helpful as I think about all this. James exhorts us to be doers of the word, not merely hearers, and he tells us that 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. I find this mirror imagery evocative. When we hear the word but do nothing, it’s as if we have forgotten what we are about; it’s like walking away from the mirror and forgetting what we’ve seen. But when we hear the word and act on it, it helps us to remember both what Jesus did for us and what he called us to do; it helps us remember what it means to be the body of Christ in the world. When we act on the word, like a mirror we are reflecting Christ’s love back out into the world. James goes on to ask “Can faith save you?” Martin Luther would of course answer yes, and I won’t dispute that. But I don’t think it stops there. We must act not to gain salvation, not because God requires our cooperation. Rather our actions are borne out of our recognition of God’s saving love for us, out of a profound sense of gratitude for that saving love. It is BECAUSE we have faith that we must act. Because we know God, because we have faith that God’s love, Jesus’ redemptive power are available for us we are called to respond. Because we have faith we are compelled to care for others, to do those things that Jesus taught in the gospels—feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger. What’s more, it is a reciprocal relationship. Being doers of the word, acting out of our faith isn’t necessary to ensure our salvation, but it does nourish that faith from which it springs. As we act as Christ’s body in the world we meet Christ in others, we experience again the love of Christ manifest in the world and our own faith is fed, giving us strength for the journey. Our active response to the word can take many forms. If you were here at Saint Mary’s yesterday afternoon, you would have seen the word in action in the Days of Hospitality where some of our community’s homeless were welcomed and fed—and that’s just one example of the many ministries at Saint Mary’s that are borne out of faith, out of the compulsion to act on the word. Over the next few weeks, I challenge you to look around, look for ways you see the word being live out, acted on, at Saint Mary’s and in the wider world, and then to prayerfully consider how you are being called to be a doer of the word. AMEN
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