St. James of Jerusalem, Bishop and Martyr

James of Jerusalem’s feast day tends not to be a major red-letter day on the Lutheran calendar. Martin Luther had, as they say, issues with the emphasis on good works in the Epistle of James (thought to have been, if not actually written by James, then written for him); Luther’s friend Phil Melancthon had to do some major convincing to get Luther to consider that James’ and Paul’s respective viewpoints on grace and works were perhaps complementary and not contradictory, and even then I don’t think Marty really bought it.

So, anyway, perhaps it’s not surprising that I didn’t give St. James the blog-nod on his special day, this past Sunday. (That and my preoccupation with pancakes.) But in thinking about him, I’ve decided to take another look.

James is widely identified as Jesus’ brother – which, depending upon your theological point of view, may mean anything from biological brother to stepbrother to cousin. If this is true, then he was among those family members who didn’t get Jesus; who at one point even decided that Jesus was off his rocker, and came in an entourage to fetch him back home, presumably before he further shamed the family and got into more trouble. Yet James was one of those to whom the resurrected Jesus appeared. He became a leader of the nascent Christian movement, along with apostles Peter and John. James and Paul had a dust-up about the propriety of Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians eating together, which apparently was resolved when Paul successfully argued his case, and James and the others finally gave their blessing to Paul’s ministry. James was known throughout the early Church for his goodness, hence the moniker “James the Just,” and his piety; even his detractors among the Pharisees gave him good-behavior points for his observance of the Law. (Although James nonetheless wound up being martyred for his faith.)

As I’ve been thinking about James, and what his life may have to say to us centuries later, one of the things that comes to mind is grace...and the freedom to be wrong. How would you like to be, not only one of the many who’d gotten it wrong about Jesus, but one who was also Jesus’ own flesh and blood? I wonder how often, after Jesus’ post-Resurrection appearance to James, that James replayed the details of their life together, and the events of their last few years of apparent estrangement, thinking of all the times that he’d been dismissive of or disgusted with or ashamed of his brother. How many times do you think he pounded himself in the head? D’oh! I know that’s what I would have done. But what went on during that reunion of brothers that transformed and empowered James to become one of the great leaders of the early Church? And how did that experience of being wrong in a really big way inform James’ later experience of coming to the realization that the Holy Spirit might be moving the young Church in an unexpected, broadly inclusive direction, and having the courage to publicly change his mind?

James reminds us that we don’t always get it right. And that, thank God, we don’t have to. Jesus keeps showing up nonetheless, pulling us back on our feet and setting us in a right direction. That’s really good news. Thank you, James of Jerusalem, for reminding us of that.

St. James of Jerusalem, Bishop and Martyr