Part 5

The words of this verse call for particular remark. “Then” is here the historical order following the temptation to which one yields. His lust drew him forth to the temptation. He yields, and the result is the conception; the embryo develops into sin. This is the first birth, and sin is the child of desire. Desire is not in itself sinful, but it easily falls into sin. Thus in a true sense desire makes sin where there was no sin and so gives birth to sin. But this is not all. Sin in its turn matures and gives birth to death.[57] This second child is like a child born dead.

When sin is born, death is involved like an embryonic parasite that feeds on sin. Desire, sin, death form the biological line of pedigree. The line is short, for “the wages of sin is death,” as Paul puts it (Rom. 6:23).[58] The picture in James is that of an abnormal birth like a misshapen animal. I have seen a five-legged cow, the fifth leg on the top of the back standing up straight. When sin is born, death begins (conception) and grows in fascinating power till a new birth comes; and lo, this child is death itself. “The birth of death follows of necessity when once sin is fully formed, for sin from its first beginnings carried death within” (Hort, _in loco_).

The law of death in sin applies to other sins besides the so-called sexual sins which write their history so plainly in the body and the mind and bring a heritage of woe through all the family history. There is here no sowing of wild oats to raise a crop of wheat. The fearful fidelity of modern scientific knowledge throws a lurid light on this passage in James. The sinner makes his bed and lies down in it and drags down with him the helpless ones who are thrown in his care.

As I am writing I receive a copy of _Light_, a magazine published by the World’s Purity Federation. The issue for November, 1914, contains an article by a woman who has lived “twenty-five years in the underworld.” Her story reads like a commentary on the words of James. She claims to have had the best of that sordid life, but she concludes: “No matter what humiliation a girl has to endure, it is better to endure it than to get into this life. There is nothing in it for any of them. The very best of us get it hard before we die. And, at the best, it is Hell.” The issue of death is seen not merely in the diseases of the body but “also in the deterioration of mind and character which accompanies every kind of sin” (Mayor, _in loco_). Death and hell then claim their own.

God, the Source of Good (1:16 f.)

The contrast is sharp. “Be not deceived”; do not wander so in your minds as to think that temptation and sin and death come from God. He is not the source of evil. Rabbi Chaninah says: “No evil thing cometh down from above.” Note Jesus in John 8:23 on “above” and “below.” James is tenderly affectionate in his appeal on this point—“my beloved brethren.” On the contrary, only good comes from God. God is good, and he alone is absolutely good (Mark 10:18).[59] In the Greek the next sentence runs like a hexameter line if one short syllable is considered long by stress of the meter.[60] We need not tarry over a fanciful straining after poetical lines in prose. Oesterley agrees with Ewald in seeing here a quotation from a Hellenistic poem. It is far more likely just accidental rhythm common enough in good prose. The scholars differ also as to how to translate the sentence. Moffatt has it: “All we are given is good, and all our endowments are faultless.”

“The Father of lights” sets God over against the worship of the sun so common among the ancients. Plato (Repub. vi. 505 ff.) compares the sun to the idea of the good. Modern science powerfully illustrates this comparison of James in bringing out what we owe to the sun in the way of light, heat, and life itself. Philo calls God “the Father of the all,” the lights (the moon and the stars) and all else in the universe. “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?” (Psalm 8:3 f.). Compare Philippians 2:15. God is not only light (1 John 1:5), but all true light comes from him—all the light that lights every man coming into the world (John 1:9).

But the sun appears to move rapidly. Watch the sun drop like a ball of fire at sunset and thus cast a deepening shadow over the earth. The sundial is one of the oldest ways to mark “the shadow that is cast by turning.” Mayor quotes Plutarch (Percl. 7) for the use of this figure for shadows cast on the dial. James is here, of course, using popular language, as we still do when we say that the sun rises and sets. But with our Father of lights there is “no change of rising and setting” (Moffatt). He “casts no shadow on the earth.” Even the polestar, we now know, whirls on in space, carrying the worlds along with it. But our God is not changeable or whimsical. He does not send now good, now ill. He knows how to give good gifts to those that ask him, yea, the best of all gifts, the Holy Spirit (Luke 11:13). What seems ill is really good if it comes from God. If one takes his stand by God’s side and looks at his life, he sees God’s plan as a whole for his own life and for God’s glory.

The New Birth (1:18)

“So far from God tempting us to evil, his will is the cause of our regeneration” (Mayor). He is our Father in a double sense. We owe our original birth to God, in whose image we are made (Gen. 2:7). We owe our spiritual birth likewise to God, who begat us again to a living hope (1 Peter 1:3). The Mishnah (_Surenh._, iv. 116) says: “A man’s father only brought him forth into this world: his teacher, who taught him wisdom, brings him into the life of the world to come.” Happy is the father who leads his child also to Christ. But while the word of truth is the instrument used in the instruction (a pointed lesson for parents, teachers, preachers), the actual work of regeneration is due to God as Father, yes, and as Mother also, for the word “brought forth” is the one used of the mother (see by contrast v. 15).

The doctrine of grace here set forth is of a piece with that in Paul’s writings (Rom. 12:2; Eph. 1:5), those of Peter (1 Peter 1:3), and of John (1:13). Indeed, Jesus himself is quoted as saying: “Ye did not choose me, but I chose you” (John 15:16). As the seed of sin produces death, so the seed of God produces life (1 John 3:9). It is interesting to note this piece of fundamental theology in so practical a writer as James, who lays special emphasis on works as proof of life. But James has no such idea as some careless and shallow theologians who think that a man can galvanize himself into spiritual life by imitative ethics. The man must be born again, as Jesus said so impressively to Nicodemus (John 3:3). The miracle of birth must precede growth and development.

We are not to puzzle ourselves too much over the mysteries of spiritual biology. We know that the impulse and purpose[61] come from God (John 1:13). What we do know is that God honors and uses the word of truth, both spoken and written. If this is true, what a responsibility belongs to us for diligence and urgency in the use of the word of truth.

By the truth we are set free from sin and error (John 8:31 f.). The word of truth is the gospel of salvation (Eph. 1:13; Col. 1:5), the word of life (1 John 1:1). God’s word is truth (John 17:17), and the words of Jesus are spirit and life (John 6:63). The word of truth, when combined with the power of God (2 Cor. 6:7), quickens into life. So James emphasizes the importance of the human element in the new birth, while rightly making God supreme in the act of regeneration. We must reach men with the word of God. We must pass it on to the thirsty, the hungry, the dying. Every church is, or ought to be, a lifesaving station, a rescue mission, a teaching center, a powerhouse, a lighthouse radiating knowledge of God in Christ.

The purpose of God in renewing us by the word of truth is that we in turn should win others. We are not an end in ourselves, though God does save us. He saves us that we may serve. We are to be a sort of first fruits,[62] not the full harvest. There are fields upon fields beyond us ready for the reaper. We are just a beginning, just a foretaste. We whet the appetite for larger, richer blessings. “The trees that are a fortnight to the fore are the talk and delight of the town.”[63] One spring my baby boy noticed a tree without leaves when all the rest were in leaf. “What is the matter with this tree?” he asked.

Christ has introduced a new order into the world. He himself is the real first fruits (1 Cor. 15:20). But there are others through all the ages—those that ripen first and fast, show the way, give promise of the future. So Epaenetus was a first fruits of Asia for Christ (Rom. 16:5); the household of Stephanas was in Corinth (1 Cor. 16:15). Blessings rest on the first fruits for salvation in any church, any town, any family. They are the chosen of God, like the 144,000 in the book of Revelation (14:3), the church of the firstborn (Heb. 12:23). The Jews consecrated their first fruits to God as his in a special sense. All Christians are meant to be first fruits, the promise and earnest of better work (Rom. 8:23). God has in store great things for his people. The least that we can do is to bring our first and our best, our all, and lay it at the feet of Jesus. The new heaven and the new earth may not come while we live on earth, but we may help heaven to come upon earth by living the life of God.

V The Practice of the Word of God

Nowhere is James richer than in this wonderful paragraph in verses 19-27 of the first chapter. He has in mind “the word of truth” of verse 18 and follows that idea with pungent and powerful words that remind one of the Sermon on the Mount. It is not clear whether the first part of verse 19 belongs in idea to what goes before or what follows. “Ye know this, my beloved brethren.” It makes perfectly good sense either way. It is also uncertain whether we have a statement or a command, for the form may be either indicative or imperative. If you know it, act on your knowledge. Let us listen to what the Word has to say, since we are renewed by the use of it, and be less captious in our criticism of its teachings (Mayor). Moffatt puts it, “Be sure of that, my beloved brothers,” and connects it with verse 18.

Brilliant Listening (1:19a)

By “swift to hear” James brings a vivid picture before us. Moffatt has it “quick to listen.” Sirach (5:11) has a like command: “Be swift in thy listening.” One thinks of fleet of foot, yes, and of ear. The Vulgate has _velox_ here. The wild animals (and the Indians) of necessity have keen ears and can hear the slightest rustle of a leaf or crackling of a twig. The rabbit, so often hunted by man and dog, pricks up his ears at the sound of a pin dropping. The use of the telephone and radio have given added importance to the value of the ear. The ancients relied very much on the ear, for the reader of books had a wide-awake audience who depended on the ear rather than the eye for information.

The mechanism of listening is very wonderful, the contact between brain and brain through the sound waves of speech and the reception of the spoken words by the ear. Jesus often said: “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.” The ear with many was, and is, the sole avenue of acquiring knowledge. It is no disparagement of books to say that the art of conversation is one of the greatest refinements. But the very essence of a good conversationalist is that he be also a good listener; else he is a consummate bore. Sydney Smith said of Macaulay that his occasional flashes of silence made his conversation delightful. In _Qoheleth Rabba_ we read: “Speech for a shekel, silence for two, it is like a precious stone.” Broadus had a great lecture on “The Art of Listening.” It is a really rare art and one of the most useful.

Poor listening will make poor preaching of a really good sermon. Good listening will come near to making a good sermon out of a poor one. The writer of Hebrews complains that his readers have become dull of hearing. The word “dull” means no push. They had no push in their ears, no energy in listening, were already half asleep. In particular do we need to listen when God speaks to us in his Word of truth, to have “a quick and attentive ear to catch what God has spoken” (Hort). Inattention is irritating and may be deadly. Sirach says: “The mind of a sagacious person will meditate on a proverb; and an attentive ear is the desire of a wise man” (3:29). God is constantly speaking to those with ears to hear. It is good for the young to learn the habit of attention, a help in meeting temptation.

Eloquent Silence (1:19b)

Another life rule of James (Windisch) is “slow to speak.” One must not forget Homer’s “winged words,” for words can be laden with messages of joy and life and peace and love. Eloquence has its place, real eloquence of the soul—words on fire that blaze and burn, words that thrill and electrify, words that make life and death noble and high, words like those of Jesus that are spirit and life (John 6:63). But when all is said, there is something deeper than mere speech, higher than just words, nobler than talk. If speech is silvern, silence is often golden.

Sorrow may be too unutterable for words. Joy may pass beyond all speech. The proverb also has it that “many a man has had to repent of speaking, but never one of holding his peace,” unless silence is guilty or cowardly. But it is easy to be voluble with the tongue and slack in life. Sirach says: “Be not violent with thy tongue, and in thy deeds slack and remiss.” Volubility is certainly not a sign of power. The silent man, like Moses, is more likely to be a man of power and performance. The parrot and the owl form good examples of the weakness of chatter and the wisdom of silence. Zeno calls attention to the obvious fact that we have two ears and one mouth and should therefore listen twice as much as we talk.

James does not, of course, mean that men should be slow and dull talkers after they begin to talk. He means slow to talk, not slow in talking. Often the least interesting men are the very ones who talk most frequently and at the greatest length. We are to think twice before we speak. Sometimes, if we do that, we shall not speak at all. At any rate, we shall be more likely to have sense in our speech. We shall speak to more purpose if we speak after silence and out of the reflection from silence.

McLaren has a good phrase, “Spread out our souls to the truth.” “Be still, and know that I am God.” Mary “kept all these sayings, pondering them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). She could only listen to God. The Quakers have some ground for their plea for meditation in the Christian life. Introspection can, of course, be overdone, but the present age is not given to reflection and contemplation. Practical mysticism is the best type of Christianity. Indeed, Christianity without mysticism is empty and formal.

It is quite possible (Johnstone) that the free conversational style employed in the early Christian meetings was taken advantage of by contentious persons, with the result of serious wranglings, as in the church at Corinth (cf. 1 Cor. 14). “In the multitude of words there wanteth not transgression; but he that refraineth his lips doeth wisely” (Prov. 10:19). Such violent talkers break up the spiritual life of a church. The less they know, the more they talk. They have positive opinions on every subject of politics or religion. They know how their neighbors should act in the smallest details and criticize everybody and everything. They are happiest when all is agog with talk of some sort; and the more gossipy it is, the better they like it. “They cannot think, and it is a relief to them to hear their own voices” (Dale). Epictetus (Ench. xxxiii, §5) has the same idea as James: “Let there be silence for the most part or let that which is necessary be said in few words.”

Dull Anger (1:19c f.)

The third life rule of James is “slow to wrath.” There is a clear connection between speech and anger. Anger inflames one to hasty and unguarded talk. In turn, the words act as fuel to the flames. The talk inflames the anger, and the anger inflames the talk. The more one talks, the angrier he becomes—like a spitfire. If one stops talking, his anger will cool down for lack of fuel. Men who are dull enough in listening, who will sleep through any sermon, are quick to resent a personal reflection or an imagined wrong. Often one’s manhood is gauged by his quickness to avenge a personal affront, with murder as the outcome. This is a fine place to be dull, when one is tempted to be angry.

Anger is sometimes justifiable, even necessary. There is such a thing as righteous indignation against wrong. Jesus “looked round about on them with anger” (Mark 3:5), but it was compassionate anger. It is possible to be angry and sin not (Eph. 4:26), but we must not let the sun go down upon our wrath. Unlike God, we do not know all the circumstances in the case. Getting mad is not promoting the kingdom of God. “The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.” (Compare Matthew 5:21 f.) The euphemistic phrase of James is emphatic by its very mildness. Man’s wrath is set over against God’s righteousness. The growth of religion and of civilization is marked by the self-restraint of the individual and of the state. Vengeance is a boomerang in most instances. The taking of vengeance into one’s own hands brings down the house on one’s head. Not only is unhappiness brought to others; immeasurable harm is done in one’s own life.

At any rate, it pays every man and every nation to be slow to anger.

Boys, flying kites, haul in their white-winged birds; You can’t do that way, when you’re flying words. Thoughts, unexpressed, may sometimes fall back dead, But God himself can’t kill them once they’re said.

Sometimes unpalatable truth has to be spoken, hard words have to be said. “Am I become your enemy by telling you the truth?” (Gal. 4:16). But the preacher needs to temper rebuke with love and anguish of soul.

The Rooted Word (1:21)

“The implanted word” is probably a mistranslation. The common idea of the word is “inborn” or “innate” (cf. Wisd. 12:10, “their wickedness is inborn”). The word is occasionally used for second nature or secondary ingrowth (Hort). The word is sown, not grafted, and so “rooted” seems to be the meaning here (Mayor). See also Romans 6:5, “united with him in the likeness of his death.” The figure is that of the seed sown in the heart and taking root and growing there. So Jesus spoke of the man who had no root in himself (Matt. 13:21).

Receive the rooted word; but before doing so, one must cleanse the heart like a garden of all noxious weeds. The imagery is doubtless a mixed metaphor, but never mind that, for the thought is clear. The “putting away” suggests the laying aside of a garment, as in Hebrews 12:1 one strips for the race. In Ephesians 4:21 Paul contrasts putting off the old man with putting on the new (cf. also Col. 3:8 ff.). Mayor notes the comparison between dress and character in the wedding garment (Matt. 22:11), the white robe of purity (Rev. 3:4, 18). In 1 Peter 2:1 we have language similar to that of James, “putting away therefore all wickedness.” But probably James means to carry the figure of the garden all through the verse, as Moffatt has it: “So clear away all the foul rank growth,” the weeds of “filthiness” and “overflowing of wickedness.” The “filthiness” may mean impurity. Compare Paul’s phrase “corrupt speech,” literally “rotten speech” in Ephesians 4:29. But in Revelation 22:11, “And he that is filthy let him be made filthy still,” the notion is more general.

Another noxious weed that must be gotten out of the way is “wickedness,” which here may have the narrower sense of malice. “What was called holy anger was nothing better than spite” (Hort). It is even suggested that the “overflowing” is a sort of overgrowth or excrescence (Hort), but with no idea of admitting that a small amount of wickedness or malice is not evil. The precise figure is an ebullition or effervescence of malice. Surely one too often sees this picture in actual life. Malice bubbles up and runs over into word and deed. “The evil man out of the evil treasure bringeth forth that which is evil” (Luke 6:45). He speaks out of the abundance of his heart. Surely evil runs riot unless it is checked and taken out, root and branch. Per contra one loves to think of the abundance of grace (Rom. 5:17, 21) and the abundance of joy (2 Cor. 8:2).

When once the weeds are out of the way, “make a soil of modesty for the Word which roots itself inwardly” (Moffatt). Surely the repentant sinner can only “receive with meekness.” Hort notes that the temper full of harshness and pride destroys the faculty of perceiving the voice of God. Jesus urged men to come to school to him, because he is meek and lowly in heart (Matt. 11:29). Meekness is not a virtue that ranks high with all men. Many of the ancients counted it a vice, as Nietzsche has taught in our generation. But the spirit of Nietzsche’s superman is not the spirit of Jesus or of the true gentleman. There can be no true culture without gentleness and the grace of meekness.

If the seed of the Word gets root and is allowed to grow (compare the wayside, stony-ground, thorny-ground hearers in Christ’s parable in Matt. 13), the tree of life will flourish in the garden of the soul. This word is “able to save your souls.” It brings a present salvation here and now (John 5:34), a new life of purity. It helps in the progressive salvation of the whole man in his battle with sin and growth in grace (2 Tim. 3:15). It leads to final salvation in heaven with Christ in God (1 Peter 1:9). The gospel is the power of God unto salvation (Rom. 1:16); the very power of God pulses in it. See Hebrews 4:12 f. for a wonderful picture of the vital force of the Word of God, quick and powerful, all electric with the energy of the Spirit of God. Men may scoff at and scout the message of God, but it saves men’s souls. What else does that?

Hearers Only (1:22-24)

James keeps the balance well. He has shown the wisdom of good listening. Now he proves the futility of mere listening with no effort to put into practice what one hears. There is life in the Word of God if it is lived. It is quick with life-giving energy for those who put it to the test of life. One may hear and not heed. The Greek used the same word for both ideas. One is reminded of the parable of the sower again, for only one of the four classes of hearers brought forth fruit. That is the test. “By their fruits ye shall know them.” The reception of the Word will only bring final salvation in case the fruit is borne.

James knew only too well the empty ceremonialism of the Jews who said and did not. Jesus (see Matt. 23) arraigned the hypocrisy of the Pharisees in the most scathing denunciation of all time. “But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deluding your own selves.” Show yourselves “word-doers” (Hort). By “word” it is not clear whether is meant the Torah (Oesterley) or any word of authority (Hort), or the rooted word just mentioned (Plummer). The latter is most likely, though the partial personification of “word” here reminds one of the opening verses of the Fourth Gospel and of Philo and the Targums.