True Religion
Entering the stream of mercy
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. – James 1:27
On Tuesdays at noon, a small group from my congregation gathers on Zoom for Bible study. We recently finished reflecting on The Letter of James. One of the things that struck our group is James’ emphasis on ethical teaching. For James, religion is more about what we do than what we say; or, better, what we believe is demonstrated by what we do. Faith is a verb in The Letter of James. How we perceive the world and how we respond to it are inextricably bound together. There is no other kind of faith than faith in action.
James’ ethical exhortations are deeply grounded in the teaching and practice of Jesus; especially his advocacy for the poor, and emphasis on taming the tongue and refraining from judging others. James’ teaching that “mercy triumphs over judgment” closely hews to Jesus’ admonition to “be merciful just as your Father is merciful.”1
In a society in which people are skeptical of religious institutions and religious people, a renewed emphasis on faith in action is a much-needed corrective to the hypocrisy of the Church. The proof of metanonia, the transformation of consciousness at the heart of any authentic spiritual path, is found in our love of God and our love of neighbor. And, as St. Teresa of Avila liked to remind her sisters, while we can fool ourselves and others about our love for God, whether or not we love our neighbors is pretty clear! There is no metanoia without mercy.
The religion that God desires is marked by two things: care for the vulnerable and purity of heart. James talks about this in terms of caring “for orphans and widows in their distress” and keeping oneself “unstained by the world.” It comes down to the same thing.
It is important to understand that by “the world,” James does not mean the natural world or reality. “World” here has the connotation of “worldview” or cultural lens. He contrasts the wisdom of the world, which is marked by bitter envy and ambition leading to disorder and wickedness, with the wisdom “from above,” which is marked by purity, peacefulness, gentleness, mercy and good fruits yielding a harvest of justice and peace.2
This wisdom from “above” is derived from a higher level of consciousness than what we internalize from our culture. It requires tuning into a different frequency to connect with the divine bandwidth. This is what “purity of heart” is about. It is pure, not in a moral sense (although it has moral consequences), but in the sense that the heart is an organ of perception capable of intuitive knowledge about reality. When James talks about being “unstained by the world,” his concern is with keeping the lens of perception clear.
Seeing clearly, we can act rightly. We see beyond the illusion of separation and realize our identity with the rest of reality. We enter into the stream of mercy flowing through all things, and become vehicles of divine compassion for those who are suffering. There is no metanoia without mercy.
True religion looks like the community gathered around Susanna. Susanna lives in my neighborhood and occasionally worships with my congregation. She is in her mid-eighties and lives alone; she is single, has no children, and no close relatives. She lives on a very modest income of social security and a small pension. It isn’t much, but it is enough.
The problem is that Susanna is losing her short-term memory. Dementia and physical frailty leave her unable to keep her apartment clean or shop for food. She forgets to pay the rent, and has fallen months behind with payment. She doesn’t have any form of identification, and no longer knows how to use her smart phone.
Two neighbors have helped her pay the rent and get food delivered. A couple of members of my congregation have teamed up with them to get social services involved: getting her identification, a landline phone, and eventually in-home assistance and money management services. It is a process, made difficult by Susanna’s confusion and resistance. It requires a lot of patience. She can age in place with dignity, but not without support. Eventually, she will need to move to an assisted living facility.
Without the love of her neighbors, Susanna would have been evicted from her apartment long ago. She would have become one of the many vulnerable seniors living on the streets of San Francisco. The wisdom of the world sees her as a disposable person: not my responsibility. Most people are just too afraid of the vulnerability she represents to come close to her.
The wisdom from above sees her as a child of God, as a sibling: our responsibility. Seeing Susanna clearly, one can respond to her vulnerability with compassion. She is us. We are her.
There are so many stories like this one being lived out every day. Quietly. Without attention. By people who identify as religious people and by those who do not. Regardless of how they do or do not identify themselves, their works demonstrate their faith – their capacity to see and respond to the invitations to love all around us. This is true religion. Seeing with the eye of the heart, love transcends our fear and moves us into the stream of mercy.
The Church – and any religious institution, for that matter – exists to foster the conditions in which metanoia can manifest as mercy. That is the raison d’etre of religion. The challenge is to scale it up to the point that we shift the collective consciousness of humanity to a higher level. But it starts and ends with our capacity to respond to Susanna – and to the vulnerable, poor, and wounded places in our own lives – with compassion.
Cf. James 2:12-13 and Luke 6:35-36. Echoes of Jesus’ teaching and practice are found throughout James: on poverty and riches (1:9-11), on anger (1:19), on judgment (4:11-12), on oath-taking (4:13-17), on healing and forgiveness (5:13-16).
James 3:13-18.