Why 'Works' Are Necessary

A recent Pew Research Center poll has reopened the old debate about faith vs works--the line of scrimmage of the Protestant Reformation. Whereas Martin Luther and the heirs of the Reformation have always held that it is through faith alone that salvation occurs, many Protestants and Catholics today have a blended view of the role faith and works--at least, according to this poll ("works" is defined differently by different denominations, but could refer to any effort on the part of humankind, whether it is doing good deeds or following any religious prescription that guarantees that God will act a certain way after we do it).

The controversy has famously raged for the last five centuries, but its roots go much deeper. St. Augustine and Pelagius went several rounds over very similar issues in the fifth century A.D. The question is peppered throughout Scripture, as well, sometimes in more subtle ways. It is one of those theological questions that never seems to go away.

The issue is riddled with problems of semantics. Catholics and Protestants often understand terms like "justification" and "righteousness" differently and therefore answer questions about them differently. There is also a difference between attaining salvation through works and simply seeing works as evidence of a healthy, living faith. Furthermore, the article above saying that "a historically Catholic position" is that "both good deeds and faith in God are needed to get into heaven" is a misleading statement. The Catholic position is much more nuanced than that. From the standpoint of church apologetics, it is both problematic that the poll asked misleading questions, and it's even more problematic how people answered those misleading questions.

Nevertheless, all this has been hashed out by theologians much more trained that me, and it's hard to  find a place in the "faith vs works" debate that hasn't already been explored vigorously. But I think I've found one such place. There is one point that is extremely significant, but it seems to get lost in the shuffle almost all the time in this debate. In fact, I would argue that the subconscious purpose of this debate is actually to make sure this issue gets lost in the shuffle. In all the debates about whether works are essential for salvation we forget one very crucial thing:

Works are essential for discipleship. Whether or not those works are essential for salvation is a very different question. 

Maybe this is obvious to some, but I don't think it is said nearly enough. 

In light of this, does it really matter how we understand the reasoning behind our actions? Maybe one person feeds the hungry believing it is a means to earn salvation while another feeds the hungry in gratitude for the free gift of salvation. So what? 

I have always believed that our theology matters. How we understand God, who we are and our relationship to God and the universe are all extremely significant. But we must not forget that there is an orthopraxy at work in our lives. We grow in wisdom by doing. After all, its much more biblically accurate to say that Christians follow the way of Jesus rather than subscribe to the conclusions of Jesus. The implication is that the Christian life is a journey to be undertaken rather than a test to get all the rights answers on.

I'm reminded of the famous poem by Dr. Kent M. Keith (with additions attributed to Mother Theresa), "Do It Anyway." It contains this line:  "If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway." [Both versions are included in the link.]

I find great wisdom in this. In light of the faith vs works debate, I interpret this line as saying it ultimately may not matter if our good deeds have the purest motivations or not. Perhaps we do good deeds because we think we are earning a reward or because we may mistakenly believe we can control God's award of salvation. However, doing good deeds is still a good thing to do. We ought to do good deeds anyway, even if our motives and our theological foundations are less than pure. In fact, they almost certainly will be less than pure, because 100% purity of heart is either impossible--or else extremely rare--in our world of limited, fallible human beings. We will grow in our wisdom while doing those deeds. We shouldn't wait to do good works until we have all the theology figured out, because we may need the praxis of doing them to properly form our theology in the first place!

In this broken world filled with human limitations, if we need 100% pureness before we do something, we will end up never doing anything.  

When I see people locked in debate on this issue, I just see people who have allowed themselves to be distracted. I understand why it's so easy to distract ourselves. Discipleship involves real change. It can be scary, especially when we are confronted with the self-sacrificial way of the cross preached by Jesus through both his words and deeds. It's so much easier to wax theological for hours on end and find that the time for putting those thoughts into action has simply slipped away while the debate raged on. You see, that was the whole point of the debate in the first place!  

Don't get me wrong, I understand why people think salvation is a big deal and very much worthy of their attention. If you think that your eternal life depends on getting a question right, I can understand the anxiety. But I also think debating theological minutiae is a clever way of distracting ourselves from the tasks of Christian discipleship. Jesus tells us to love one another, feed the hungry, turn the other cheek, forgive 70 x 7 times, love our enemies and so forth. He tells us over and over again to let go of anxiety over the future and simply follow his way--all shall be well. Yet, so many churches lock horns and obsess over doctrinal nuances.

In conclusion, all Christians should be dedicated to living out the commands of Jesus and following in his way. In practice, all Christians should look pretty much alike, even if they are motivated by very different theologies. A "faith alone" Christian should be working side by side with a "faith plus works" Christian. Whether they understand themselves as earning salvation by their good works or simply living out the requirements of a justified person growing in righteousness should not interfere with doing the good works required of discipleship. The tasks should be the same. They should be working just as hard doing the same things. This is what we seem to forget in this debate.

Addendum

While not the focus of this piece, it is worth pointing out that this issue has been largely settled by many of the key players of the Protestant Reformation. The Roman Catholic Church (through the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity) and the Lutheran World Federation signed a joint statement on justification in 1999. Other denominations have signed on since then, including the World Methodist Council and the World Communion of Reformed Churches. The Anglican Church is also expected to sign. To these signers, the faith vs works debate is over because a common understanding of this issue has been accepted. It is also worth pointing out that each of those denominations has detractors who don't support statement, as well.

Belief or Pratice - What Makes a Christian?

For most of the last 500 years since the Protestant Reformation, denominations in Western Christianity have been obsessed with making sure they have the right doctrine. The assumption in western Christianity has often been this: Being a Christian is about having the right salvation plan and your very salvation plan depends entirely on the right set of beliefs. 

Beliefs are the meat & potatoes in this model while actions are treated as the optional gravy side dish. Having the right beliefs is the foundation in this mindset, and on that foundation, a church community has some flexibility in the way those truths are lived out. Various styles and charisms follow. The beliefs are absolute; the practices vary. We are sympathetic when people do not live into the difficult prescriptions in the Gospel for our lifestyle, but we hold as absolute our beliefs. 

Jesus called on us to be "salt of the earth" (Matthew 5:13), but he seemed to imply something much more essential than just an optional flavoring. 

 

This belief-centered approach is promoted even when the language goes to theological extremes that few can understand. Even the most educated theologians struggle to understand slim nuances of difference between theological arguments. Nevertheless, many churches have not hesitated to claim that your eternal life depends on having the right beliefs and joining the right club.

I have an advanced degree in Theology, and yet I still do not understand the differences between any number of hot button church dividing issues.

Those nuances DO matter. But is it possible that we may sometimes obsess over the finer points of theology as a distraction from actually changing our lifestyle in light of the revelation of Christ?  

The belief-first model makes sense on some levels: For example, we can all agree on the belief that feeding the hungry is important. How we feed the hungry can legitimately change shape depending on the circumstances. Still, not all methods are equal, and therein lies the rub.

 

We also know that humans are imperfect, and we believe in a God of compassion and forgiveness in our mistakes to manifest this truth we have come to know. We may fail to freed the hungry but still affirm that feeding the hungry is important.

 

I am suggesting something more symbiotic: 

The truth impacts the way we live, so having different beliefs will definitely bring about different practices. It goes the other way, too: The way we practice the Christian faith informs our beliefs. By practicing mercy, for example, we come to know God and therefore expand our beliefs, not to mention demonstrate what we actually mean by those beliefs. By getting to know the world better through servanthood, our beliefs broaden, deepen and develop.



Left: Traditional Model - Belief Centered
Right:  Symbiotic Model

I liken it to the way Scripture and Tradition have a symbiotic relationship in Catholic theology--bouncing off each other, informing each other, each providing a lens to see the other.  

I would be hesitant to suggest that practice is more important than belief. For now, I am comfortable saying that the two should be kept in balance.

The relationship between belief and practice would follow in a similar way:

Our knowing helps us to do --

and our doing helps us to know.

 

"The medium is the message," as philosopher Marshall McLuhan said and my Theology advisor always reminded me. Belief and practice are expressed as one phenomenon. How something is conveyed is just a part of the message as the explanation that may accompany it. There is a oneness here. Thought cannot be divorced from action. 

Telling someone you love them while punching them in the face gives at best a mixed message, if it is not an outright contradiction. It certainly calls into question your definition of love and your meaning, intention and conviction behind it. You may believe in love, but do you really know love? I am using "know" here in the Biblical sense--a whole-person experience rather than just a detached intellectual experience.
 
Obviously, we will all have ideals that we fall short of realizing. I am suggesting something more than simply "practice what we preach." I am saying that the way we understand the faith could benefit greatly if we understood the Christian life as being as much a verb as a noun.

The famous love passages in 1 Corinthians 13 backs this up. Grace--as understood as faith, hope and love--is the only thing that is eternal or coherent, according to the passage. Knowledge, prophecy--everything, really--all pass away, but faith, hope and love endure. All else is only so much senseless noise. It is only God's grace which brings order out of chaos, which turns that senseless noise into music and which brings something that dies to life. Our participation in this is a more energetic relationship than an intellectual, contractual agreement.
 

Hiding-in-Plain-Sight Christianity

 

The spiritual path can be hard, and it is easy to hide from it. There is no better way of fooling people--and yourself--than hiding in plain sight. We do this by talking about Christianity. We may practice a few core disciplines that our tradition mandates--we may go to church and abstain from certain behaviors, for example. But do our lives actually give witness to what we claim to believe? Is there even an attempt made to express the radical reality of Christ? Do we know Christ only in our thoughts but not elsewhere?

 

The western mind is the descendent of the Ancient Greeks. Their heavily analytical style broke apart reality into pieces for study and comment. The human person in its wholeness became thought of as mind, body and soul. This kind of fragmentation is great for analytical study so long as we do not lose sight of the integrated whole. The Greeks may have inadvertently paved the way for the way we nowadays often see belief and practice as so distinct as to be virtually unrelated to each other. 

 

The Letter of James attempts to remind us that the human experience is whole: "For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead" (James 2:26).

The great Reformers cautioned us with this. They wanted to quell the idea that humans are in charge of our destiny and that somehow we can "earn" salvation from our own efforts. It is a fair point, but they miss an even bigger point: Grace itself is a holistic experience of faith, hope and love that is not limited to the mental affirmation of belief. When we say that faith is crucial but works are not, we are acting like attendance in the locker room is essential but participation in the game itself is optional. Good works become a kind of optional victory lap in the Christian life rather than the race itself.

James challenges us more than most Christians are willing to consider. Consider this often ignored line: "Even the demons believe--and shudder" (James 2:19). Belief is not enough--the Christian experience must be more than that.

Faith without works is dead not because we earn salvation, as many in the Reformation argued. It is dead because the Christian life is not merely an intellectual head game--it is a whole-person endeavor.

 

A lot of people like to talk about religion. It is like theology is a puzzle to figure out, and they brood over it deeply. Indeed, many people have the spiritual calling--or burden--to be theologians. Their minds are unceasingly pondering the great mysteries and trying to glean what we can know of God from what has been revealed. Still, one of the great hiding places for the westerner is to hide in her/his own mind. We need thinkers, but when thoughts are too separated from a lived expression they fall short.

Defining Ourselves By Orthopraxy

Christians tend to group themselves along lines of belief. What if we were to group Christians along lines of practice?

Take something like the peace movement—very united in practice, but not always united in dogma, as people come from a variety of traditions. Yet at the same time, the practice of peace does bring about a sense of who humans are and our place in the cosmos—an implied theology is there. The peace movement is a kind of "church." Perhaps according to the test of Matthew 25, maybe we need to remove the phrase "kind of" and say "is"--it is a church in the sense that it is doing what Christ says to do.

 

The same is probably true of other movements, such as the charismatic movement or missionary movement(s). Movements have a theology. 

My colleague Dr. Rick Stern noticed that there is a unique and identifiable theology in the lyrics of bluegrass music. The practice of the music, the community which has formed around it and the revelations discovered through its practice have give it a distinct charism, or theology.   

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."
—John 14:6 NIV

This is a verse most Christians have heard over and over again. It just becomes part of the wallpaper of daily life—it is so central, yet it can be so overlooked.

 

Jesus announces that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  In other words:

* No one comes to the Father except through the Truth of Jesus. 

* No one comes to the Father except through the Way of Jesus. 

* No one comes to the Father except through a Life in Jesus. 

 

Practicing Christianity may be just as important as believing in the right Christianity. To this point, many early Christians were referred to as followers of the Way (Acts 9:2).

 

Even the word "truth" itself is not necessarily about intellectual assent but about the Mystery of Jesus as the Incarnation of God. It is how we are in relationship with this Mystery and the impact it has on our lives that matters.

Merely identifying the Truth alone is only part of the equation, and I believe this is what James was warning us about. James was not fostering a "salvation by works" theology as much as he was reminding us that the challenge of Christ is a whole person endeavor, and he was trying to call us out of one of our favorite hiding places: Our mind.

For Further Reading

Saving Souls, Not Dogma, is the Heart of Pastoral Church Life discusses a paradigm shift along the lines of this post and was helpful in constructing it.

The First Canon: Mercy offers the quote by Pope Francis below which I believe also speaks to the relationship of faith/works and orthodoxy/orthopraxy:

"Mercy is not just a pastoral attitude,

but it is the very substance of the Gospel of Jesus."

-- Pope Francis

Pope Francis -- More than a Change in Tone

It is almost impossible to read a commentary about Pope Francis without someone describing his approach as a "change in tone."

This is a big debate in Catholic circles about the leadership of Pope Francis.  He seems to be changing a lot of things.  Is he changing basic beliefs?  Some say he is just bringing a new style.  Some say he is focusing on our pastoral practices but not changing doctrine.

There is reason to celebrate the expression "change in tone"--those who fear change are reassured of continuity and those who want radical change are also affirmed that their view has a long history of Church support. The phrase is politically ingenious.

However, the phrase lacks bite in an important way:  All of these suggestions are inadequate, because belief and practice are not isolated from each other.

I will go on record in saying that "a change in tone" is one of the worst ways of understanding Francis.

Gridiron Christianity or Locker Room Analysis?

Before a football game, the teams meet in the locker rooms and strategize with mock plays on the chalkboard.  They study the rules and rehearse drills.  They review the mishaps and celebrations from the previous week.

Later, they show up on the gridiron and attempt to turn those plays into reality--all the while experiencing the elements, shouting crowds and on-the-field improvisations.  The lessons from the past and the hopes for the future all intersect in the present moment in the snap of the football. The arrows and symbols on a chalkboard are simplistic representations of a much bigger process that unfolds in the lived reality of the game.  While the playbook matters, no one would ever confuse the playbook with the game itself.

Going from the locker room playbook to the lived reality of the field is far more than simply a "change in tone"--it is the game itself.

How silly it would be for people to debate the correct sequence of plays in the locker room and never step foot on the football field, yet that is exactly how many Christians live their Christian life.  We act like the theory is more important than the practice.  We choose the life of a sports commentator rather than the grunts, tackles and gasps of a first-person encounter.  It makes no sense for football.  Why do we settle for this in our spiritual walk?

We play football on the field but many of us live Christianity in the locker room. 

I know a lot of folks who approach Catholic Social Teaching as a mental exercise.  They spend hours pouring over books and locked in discussions.  They struggle to understand what Jesus meant when he called on people to "feed the hungry," for example.

From the perspective of the hungry person, it matters little if people have the best theology if that theology does not somehow manifest in the form of potatoes, corn and beans in front of them.

Likewise, it matters little if someone can poorly articulate a cohesive theology if they come in love bearing sacks of grain.  On some level of their being, they "get it" even if their explanation would not hold up to an academic critique.

Some say that love by itself is not the Gospel.  I am not sure about that.  What I would argue is that doctrine without love is not the Gospel.

The Good News for the hungry is not the reassurance that well intentioned people are studying the Gospels--the Good News is knowing that the food delivery truck is on its way.

It's All About Love

Scripture reminds us of the Mystery of love--without it, our actions are just a senseless banging of gongs and cymbals (1 Cor 13:1). It is as if what we do does not even matter without love--those actions do not participate in eternity.

God turns chaos into order in Genesis, and without love our actions deteriorate back into chaos. Love, therefore, is the creative expression of God!  Scripture speaks to this in saying, "everyone who loves is born of God" (1 John 4:7). 

Going from noise to music is, literally speaking, a change in tone.  But to stop there in the description is to miss something big: It is also what separates order from chaos.  It separates what endures from that which fades, the eternal from the temporal.  It separates death from life, as James reminds us that "faith without works is dead" (James 2:26)--it is not because we "earn" salvation through our own efforts, as the great Reformers worried, but rather it is because knowing Jesus is whole-person endeavor that is much more than just intellectual knowledge.

To the extent that Pope Francis is turning belief into practice marks a change not just in tone but of essence.  He calls on us to practice mercy.  He calls on us to live simply and tend to the poor.  This is not just icing on an otherwise fine piece of cake.  The practice of mercy is not just a softer delivery of the same ole, same ole--it is the difference between the playbook and game itself.  This is Good News.