“Identity” is a complex phenomenon.

Who we are, as individuals, is shaped by a range of experiences and influences.

But one theory suggests that our identity is comprised of two basic components:

a “personal identity” and a “social identity”.

In a way, our personal identity is our sense of being different from everyone else…

including those who are otherwise quite similar to us;

while our social identity is our sense of belonging…

and being a part of a group…

and not being totally unique or––

dare I say–– 

an anti-social freak or sociopath.

Our identity is a delicate interplay––

sometimes almost a battle––

between those two components.

And we have to negotiate that interplay as we walk through our day-to-day lives.

To a large extent, what social groups we look to belong to…

and to shape and reinforce our social identity…

are a choice––

a choice about what values we think are important…

and what we aspire to be as social beings.

 

The so-called ‘letter’ of James comes from the earliest days of the Christian movement.

Despite having a letter opening, it doesn’t otherwise bear any hallmarks of an ancient letter.

For example, there’s no formal letter closing.

Indeed, scholars note it actually reads more like an ancient ‘sermon’.

It was written by a Hebrew Christian… 

and addressed to a Hebrew Christian audience…

at a time when they were still trying to work out what it meant to be Hebrews––

worshippers of the one God, the God of Israel––

and followers of Jesus Christ.

This document is an attempt to tease out that question of social identity.

While it appears a fairly simple document…

offering practical advice on how to live…

underpinning it is a genuine search for a sense of social identity––

a striving to elucidate the values that were important for those who sought to follow Jesus Christ.

 

And what do we find here?

 

According to the author of James, the fundamental value––

the key defining characteristic of Christian identity–– 

is ‘integrity’…

that is… 

practicing what we profess;

living out what we believe;

genuinely allowing our faith to influence and shape our lifestyle.

According to the author… 

we’re called to pattern our lives according to the things that we have experienced of God––

things like generosity and graciousness…

being self-giving and life-giving…

and showing consistency in so doing.

As such, simply attending church week-in, week-out isn’t enough;

having the right beliefs isn’t enough.

Indeed…

according to the author…

it doesn’t matter how correct our theology is, if it doesn’t influence how we live.

Such a religion is, ultimately, empty and foolish.

Indeed, he claims…

“If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless”.

In other words, a genuine faith is to be seen in how we speak to others—

with moderation, compassion, and generosity;

in ways that are life-giving and life-affirming.

And a genuine faith is to be seen in not “deceiving” our hearts––

and yet, the word translated here as “deceive” actually means “indulge”.

So, in other words…

if any think that they are religious but they indulge in self-gratification, their religion is worthless.

Living the Christian life isn’t about self-indulgence.

It’s not about putting profits, power, privilege, or possessions ahead of people.

It’s not about maintaining my sense of comfort at the expense of others––

despite what our society might try to drum into us.

In fact, it’s the opposite:

“Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: 

to visit orphans and widows in their distress”.

An appropriate response to God’s graciousness–– 

indeed, the appropriate response to God’s graciousness to us––

is to care for those in most need.

Orphans and widows were the poorest of the poor in antiquity.

Theirs was a male-dominated society––

and to be without a husband or father left a person destitute…

unable to maintain a livelihood…

bereft of social support…

utterly powerless and vulnerable…

the most marginalised in society.

According to the author, caring for them is what God expects in response to God’s graciousness.

A genuine faith is seen in how we care––

in how we treat–– 

the most vulnerable, powerless, and marginalised in our community.

And yet, by “care”, the author doesn’t mean just giving a handout…

or sending off an anonymous donation to ease the conscience.

Instead, he means rolling up our sleeves and getting our hands dirty…

engaging in genuine, practical assistance.

After all, the author doesn’t suggest that we offer some remote…

sanitised…

second-hand sort of care.

Indeed, he suggests that what is needed is “visiting”.

That is, actually going to someone in genuine need… and offering support…

standing beside them, watching over and protecting them…

and walking with them in their suffering and distress.

But the verb that he uses here doesn’t mean just visiting once–– 

but doing so continually or repeatedly:

visiting, and continuing to visit…

caring, and continuing to care…

such that it becomes a frequent, habitual practice…

or a way of life.

As such, the author of this document is simply echoing a principle…

or a theology…

that runs right through the Old Testament…

and through the life and ministry of Jesus:

that the only fitting response to a loving, compassionate God is a life of love and compassion.

True religion involves an on-going commitment to those in desperate need.

True piety involves a continual commitment to care for the destitute in society.

 

Is that any different for us today?

 

And who is more destitute in our world than refugees and asylum seekers?

Despite what our politicians have, mischievously, tried to convince us––

and the mainstream media have largely let them get away with it––

entering another country without papers and by whatever means…

in order to seek asylum… 

is not illegal.

There is no queue.

And the overwhelming majority of these people are not simply so-called “economic migrants”.

Rather, they come because they are afraid.

They need security and protection––

which they can’t find in places like Indonesia or Malaysia…

where they can be summarily arrested, tortured, and sent back to danger.

These are people who have been rendered homeless and forced to flee their country––

because of war and violence, oppression, and persecution;

people who have left behind everything that they know and treasure;

people who are utterly powerless, vulnerable, and marginalised––

and yet they are treated with suspicion and contempt…

dehumanised and detained…

and cruelly treated like, and made to feel like, criminals.

In fact, they’re treated far worse than any criminal.

Surely they are the widows and orphans of our society today.

And, according to the author of James, the measure of our faith is how we treat them.

Will we care for them––

with compassion, generosity, and grace––

thereby imitating the way that God has treated us?

And will we make that sort of care a genuine commitment––

an on-going commitment…

a practical commitment?

As people of faith––

and as a faith community––

will we truly live out who we are called to be?
Will we make our faith real in the way that we live?

“Religion that is pure and undefiled before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction”.