“From Hearers Who Forget to Doers Who Act”

Sermon Preached By The Rev. Bruce Sanguin
September 3, 2006

Mark 7:1-23        James 1:17-27

             So James wants us to move from being “hearers who forget” to “doers who act.” It’s a perennial problem, this integrity gap, for all of us, preachers, lay people, even nations.  We hear the gospel, but then either forget what we’ve heard, or act like we have. Our hearing of the gospel doesn’t always translate into doing the gospel.  In a Harper’s magazine article, Bill McKibben, takes a shot at this own nation of the United States. (Sept. 05) It’s not really a “shot”, so much as an observation that the most Christian nation on earth seems to be among those whom James had in mind. He begins by pointing out that his nation is the most spiritually homogeneous nation on earth. A full 85% of his fellow Americans call themselves Christian. Compare this with Israel. Only 77% claim to be Jewish. It is a thoroughly Christian nation. Yet he argues it is the least Christian in terms of its behaviour.  

            The statistics he uses to back up his claims are compelling. In 2004, the U.S. ranked second last among developed nations in foreign aid; 15 cents a day per person in foreign aid. You might think, well, the private sector are making up for it, but in actuality, that increases the amount by a mere 6 cents. Well, perhaps they’re spending it all on taking care of their own people. But nearly 18% of American children live in poverty, compared to 8% in Sweden, a non-Christian country. If Christian charity is defined as caring for the least and the last, say as childhood nutrition, infant mortality, access to preschool, his nation comes in last among developed nations, in every category.

            He goes on to state that despite Jesus’ injunction to turn the other cheek, American culture is the most violent rich nation on earth, with a murder rate five times that of Europe, prison populations which are seven times greater than other developed nations. He is a citizen of the only Western democracy that still executes its citizens, mostly in states where Christianity is the strongest.

            Now, I realize that it’s one thing for an American citizen to trot out these statistics and another thing for a Canuck to bring them up. But I don’t bring them up to gloat, nor to denigrate American culture. Just two weeks ago I had the privilege of being visited by a new friend from Ohio. He is a deeply committed Christian and he expressed the same concern. He wondered whether his Christian brothers and sisters were hearing the same gospel that he heard on Sunday mornings. And if so, why was it being translated into such regressive social policy? I am also concerned because it is the most powerful nation on earth, and it seems as the political and Christian right is exerting increasing influence on us as a nation.

            I bring Bill McKibben’s article up because it so clearly illustrates how easy it is to confuse the gospel with our dominant cultural narratives. These are the stories we live by, and they are more often than not unconscious. They enter us by osmosis. We pick these narratives up simply by virtue of being a citizen of a culture. This is why, by the way, the Jews were so careful about setting themselves apart from other cultures. They knew that a culture’s myth or narrative has a way of getting inside and taking hold. When Jesus performed his exorcisms, the demons he cast out were the stories of the surrounding culture which did not belong in the consciousness of the possessed. In his new book, The Great Turning, David Korten identifies three cultural narratives which compete with the gospel for our allegiance, and don’t belong in the Christian psyche. These are:

1. The Imperial Prosperity Story: prosperity means perpetually continually growing our economy which benefits everybody. We need wealthy people to do this, and that means getting out of their way; remove anything that gets in the way of creating and accumulating wealth; environmental standards, taxes, all  trade regulations. Eliminate welfare programs in order to teach the poor about hard work.

2. The Imperial Security Story: in every nook and cranny terrorists and criminals lurk. The only way to ensure safety is to divert enormous amounts of money toward the military, police, and homeland security. As long as you keep the people frightened, you’ll have all the money you need. The war against terror, the President warns, is never-ending.

3. The Imperial Meaning Story: this features a God who rewards righteousness with wealth and power and mandates that the rich rule over the poor, who get what they deserve.

            Now, you might say, these aren’t our cultural myths or narratives. We’re Canadians. But I’m less and less certain. With the convergence of multimedia conglomerates, this neo-imperial narrative is making headway all over the world, including Canada.

            Precisely because these conventional stories are unconscious, we pick them up like a bad virus. We don’t realize that we filter reality through their lens. Even the gospel gets viewed through this lens. When it does we become hearers who forget, rather than doers who act. Point me to the precise place in the New Testament where these stories are endorsed by Jesus.  They’re not there. You’ll find lots about selling your possessions and giving them to the poor;  there’s a story about a rich man who ends up suffering in hell for not even noticing a poor man outside his palace when he was living; you’ll find teachings about the foolish man who had a good crop and so built bigger and bigger barns, so that he could enjoy the easy life; lots of stuff about not laying up treasure in other words; plenty of teachings which indicate that the basis of lasting security is justice for the poor, not bigger and bigger armies and homeland security; you’ll find in Jesus’ own mission statement a line about releasing the captives, not building more prisons for them; you won’t find any support for executing them.  In fact, he becomes a prisoner who gets executed by the state. Why would Christians want to perpetuate the practice? Not easy teachings, I grant, and certainly open to interpretation, but they can’t easily be squared with Korten’s Imperial narratives.

            John Crossan has pointed out that literary forms serve different purposes. The purpose of myth as a literary form is to create the world; it gives us the conventional take on what life is about. But the purpose of parable, Jesus’ preferred mode of teaching, is to explode and undermine myth. To follow Jesus is to be willing. week after week, to place the TNT of Jesus’ parables under all our conventional stories about who we are and what life is for. Nobody said it would be easy. In fact, it’s impossible. We are forced, day after day, to lean into the grace of God, if we intend to be doers who act, and not hearers who forget. It’s so much easier to forget, and carry on with our own agendas.

            James says that some in his community are like those who get up in the morning, look in the mirror, and then two minutes later, return to take a second look, because they’ve forgotten what they looked like two minutes ago. It’s an image of the narcissist. He can’t see beyond himself, and because he’s never sure about who he is, everything and everybody is used to bolster his uncertain sense of self.  I once had a 1 ½ lunch with a new colleague who was welcoming me to Vancouver. At 6 p.m. that very evening, we were at a meeting together. He came up to me, extended his hand, and said, “I don’t believe we’ve met.” “Be not hearers who forget”, exhorts James, “but doers who act”. Hearers who forget are not changed by the gospel. Rather they change the gospel to bolster their own image, and their own take on reality. Their motto is “that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”  Doers who act are those who listen to the strange wisdom of the gospel message, wisdom which has the power to call into question the stories we find ourselves “sticking to”, and which stick to us.  Stories about reality which are not gospel.

            This is precisely Jesus’ complaint in relation to some of his brothers in the faith. They’re worried about Jesus’ disciples not washing their hands before a meal, and thereby defiling themselves. Well that’s an interesting tale to tell yourself about what sullies a soul, says Jesus. Is this what contaminates a soul, dirt entering the body from the outside? Is this how you set yourselves apart as a holy people? Wash your hands? Hardly! It’s what gets inside the soul, at the level of our beliefs that contaminate us. It’s the stories we tell ourselves and our children about the meaning of life which seep in and possess our soul for good or ill.  And how do we know what story we’re operating from, if it’s gospel or Empire, if it’s a story of love or fear, if it’s a story of compassion or greed?  How do we know if we’re a hearer who forgets, or a doer who acts?

            James offers a rather succinct definition of purity in the religious life. “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God is this: to care for the orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.” Now that cuts through grime like a good laundry detergent, doesn’t it?  It’s a definition that teases out the gospel from the cultural narratives of Empire, of fear, and of greed, masquerading as truth.  These are the narratives that have the power to stain our souls. Religion that is pure and undefiled asks a simple question. Are we caring for the most vulnerable? Are we developing social policy which “lifts the poor out of the dust, and fills the hungry with good things?”

            Being doers of the word requires that we work from the inside out. It’s why we come back, week after week, to church. We’re getting the story straight; change what’s going on in our heart, and the outside manifests accordingly. Because, let’s be honest, it’s so easy to forget.  Nothing more difficult in the religious life than getting the story straight, because so many other stories compete for our allegiance. The truth is that once we the gospel story into our hearts, the living Christ makes a home there. And then we’ll know, once and for all, that it’s not wealth accumulation, not empire building, not personal and national security, not power. It’s about having the mind and the heart of Christ, so that one day we can say with St. Paul, “not me, but Christ in me.”