Once more James corrects a possible misapprehension. He properly places
mercy above justice, but no one need think for a moment that good deeds
do not matter. God is full of mercy, but there is a limit even with God.
He demands some performance, not mere profession. “What doth it profit?”
James pointedly asks. _Cui bono?_ What is the use? What good is it for a
man to say he has faith who has no works to prove his faith? How can men
know that he has any faith? The mere assertion is all that men have at
first. In the beginning the claim to faith is accepted, but the life
must confirm the claim if men are to continue to believe it. God can
read the heart, but even God demands that the life show the change of
heart. The life must give expression to what the heart has felt.
James asks again: “Can that faith[71] save him?” He does not scoff at
faith but at such hollow “faith” as this. James here speaks for the
practical man of the present day who wishes to see some real difference
in the life of a man who becomes a Christian. It is an old demand, as we
see in 1 John 1 and 2. There is no escape from this appeal to life, nor
ought there to be. Men are judged by their conduct in business during
the week as much as by their attendance at church on Sunday. James does
not say that a Christian has no faults and never sins or is a hypocrite
if he sins once. He does say that he should have some faith.
His illustration in verses 15 and 16 is very forcible and shows that he
was probably a striking and popular preacher (Oesterley). It is a
problem that is constantly presented to our modern Christians and
churches. A brother or sister is in need of food and clothing. They are
out of work because of the economic conditions beyond their control.
They are not professional beggars. One may pause to admit the serious
difficulty of knowing how to render real assistance to those who come to
our doors for help. The modern social workers tell us not to give money
and clothing but to investigate the case or to have the charity
organization or some of the rescue workers to do it for us. The great
number of tramps and professional beggars with false stories tends to
harden our hearts to the many cases of real need all about us. Some of
these are too proud to make their real condition known and actually
starve to death or perish from disease and cold.
James here assumes that the case is one of real need that deserves
sympathy and help. The man who prides himself upon the correctness of
his professional creed and pious standing bestows kind words of sympathy
and nothing else, sending the suffering brother or sister, “ill-clad and
short of daily food” (Moffatt), out into the bitter cold and shutting
the door with a sense of satisfaction after such pious platitudes as,
“Go in peace, be ye warmed and filled.” He calls his cheap words
Christian sympathy. It is enough to make demons laugh. The irony of
James is keen. “The things needful to the body,” the ordinary
necessities of life, now become rare luxuries to the poor brother or
sister. So James repeats his query: “What doth it profit?”
It is pertinent per contra to quote Paul on the necessity of love even
in beneficence: “And if I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and if I
give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profiteth me nothing”
(1 Cor. 13:3). What, indeed! One recalls the compassion of Jesus for the
hungry multitudes whom he fed. His heart was not hardened. He did not
ask them to be satisfied with honeyed words and the aroma of dinner. The
pious pretenders actually think that the needy should be grateful for
kind advice when sent away without a mouthful to eat. James applies his
illustration to the point discussed (v. 17). Mere professional faith
that talks and does not “is dead in itself.” There is no life in it, no
reality. It is dead on the inside and is a mere empty shell of pious
pretense. There are people who today turn to our churches for help in
the hour of need and get only empty words. It will be in vain then to
speak about the grace of God.