By now you’ve heard the story. One week ago today, two firefighters—Ted Hall and Arnie Quinones—died while fighting the massive Station Fire in the mountains north of Los Angeles.
On Saturday, those names meant nothing to most of the millions of people living in Los Angeles County. To their family and friends, of course, they were known; known as friendly, selfless men who put their families first, according to the reports. But now, the whole county knows their names, and even many beyond the county. This past week, both Governor Schwarzenegger and Senator Feinstein offered tributes to them.
It happened while they were searching for an escape route for the hundred or so inmates of Camp 16. At Camp 16, inmates were trained in wilderness protection, and were called upon to fill sandbags in winter and fight fires in summer. They also cleared hiking and running trails.
When the fire drew near to Camp 16, Hall and Quinones were out searching for an escape route. It’s unclear exactly what happened, but their truck went off the road and tumbled down the mountainside, and was overrun by flames.
I understand that, some time later, Margo’s cousin was among those who found the charred remains.
All the inmates and correction officers from Camp 16 survived and are accounted for. Hall and Quinones are being hailed as heroes; one official was quoted as saying that, without their efforts, more lives could have been lost.
Hall was married and the father or two grown sons. Quinones was also married, and was expecting his first child to be born within the next few weeks.
This story grabs our attention for several reasons. One is certainly the fact that it makes us sad. To know, for example, that Quinones’ child will be born just weeks after his or her father died in the flames—one can’t help but be moved emotionally upon hearing that.
This story grabs our attention for another reason, one that is more positive. It inspires us. These men dedicated and sacrificed their lives to what they believed in—namely, protecting lives. They didn’t sit back in the face of danger and say, “someone should do something.” They realized that, if something was going to be done, it was up to them. And they did it.
It’s kind of what we all aspire to, isn’t it? To be so committed to what we believe in, that we’re willing to do whatever it takes to follow through on that commitment…. quite often we hear of people who shirk their responsibility. Coworkers. Neighbors. The government. This story captures our attention, because it’s the story of two men who did not back away from their responsibility, not even when it was dangerous or risky.
I was talking with someone recently who told me that he wanted more for his life than he currently had. He wasn’t really living the life he wanted, he said; he wasn’t finding any fulfillment in his life. He said he was thinking of making a change.
I think that, like him, there are a lot of people who are dissatisfied with their lives. They’re not sure what the meaning or the purpose of their lives is. Those two firefighters—they had a purpose. Their lives had meaning. And we are inspired by that.
This past Tuesday I went home from church early. I had to. Ginger’s gone back to school, her classes have started, but Ethan’s and Tristan’s have not. So I needed to do some work from home.
I sat down at the table to continue working on the sermon I had started writing in my office that morning. the boys, along with three neighbor kids, were in the living room, getting ready to watch a movie.
The movie started. It was The Incredibles. I couldn’t help but be distracted by the movie’s opening scenes. Bob Parr, a.k.a. “Mr. Incredible,” is forced to give up his superhero identity and life a normal life. He works in a tiny cubicle in a large insurance company, spending his days, for the most part, shuffling paperwork.
This does not suit Bob at all. He believes that his purpose is to do great things—super things—for the good of society … and shuffling through insurance claims is not it. He’s only half awake most of the time, living his life without really being alive, only half aware of everything going on around him, including in his own family.
Bob’s problem, I realized, is that what he was doing didn’t match what he believed. And he was miserable because of it. Of course, as the movie progresses, he is able to align what he believes with what he does. Works and faith come back together, and his life has meaning once again.
Well. The debate between works and faith has been one of the great debates of Christian history. On the one hand, you have Paul and his famous teaching about “justification by grace through faith.” According to Paul, it is not works, but “grace through faith,” that saves a person, that provides wholeness and gives life meaning.
On the other hand, there’s James, who says that faith without works is dead. Belief is not enough, says James; you must have action. You can’t just talk the talk; you’ve gotta walk the walk. There is no salvation, no meaning, no wholeness, without works.
So who’s right?
Well, they both are. The conflict arises because there has been a common misunderstanding of what James and Paul meant—particularly Paul. To quote what it says in The First Paul, a new book by bible scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, “When [Paul] spoke of justification by grace through faith, he was not thinking about how we get to heaven, but about the transformation of ourselves and of the world in this life here below. Moreover, when he contrasted faith and works, he was not thinking of faith-without-works—which cannot exist because faith always includes works—but about works-without-faith, which, unfortunately, exists all to often.”
“Works-without-faith” exist when people go through the motions. They exist when rituals are performed that have no meaning. They exist when works are performed not to honor God or to express faith, but to justify oneself, to make oneself appear good in the eyes of others.
These kinds of works are what Paul was speaking against. It’s the same thing Jesus spoke against when he criticized those who performed all the rituals and sacrifices of worship without humbling themselves or allowing their acts of worship to have any meaning. They pray on the street corners so that everyone can see how righteous they are. They’re meticulous about following through the various rituals of worship and holy living, from washing and fasting to circumcision and tithing. At best, they see such acts as an end to themselves, rather than as a means to greater meaning in their lives. At worst, they perform such acts hypocritically, to “prove” to others how good and holy they are.
The works themselves are not bad. Only when they become “works-without-faith.” Because works cannot exist without faith … just as faith cannot exist without works. A life in which works and faith are not aligned is a life that lacks integrity and wholeness. Paul and James are really arguing two sides of the same coin. Faith cannot exist apart from works. Works cannot exist apart from faith.
For some years now, National Public Radio has had a series called “This I Believe,” in which people write and share short essays on their most deeply held beliefs. The essays have been read over the air and compiled in books. They’ve been written by celebrities and well-known public leaders as well as by ordinary Americans: waitresses, bus drivers, high school students.
In every single one of these essays—and there are a lot of them—the authors talk about how their basic beliefs have shaped or transformed their lives. None of them say, “this is my most cherished belief, but it hasn’t affected my life all that much.” That would be ridiculous. It would be absurd. There is no faith, no deeply held beliefs, without a changed life. What you believe is how you live. If you’re not living it, then you don’t really believe it. Faith, as Borg and Crossan point out, is a “total lifestyle commitment.”
Tomorrow is Labor Day. What if we spent at least part of the day examining how much our labor reflects our faith? Is the work you do affected at all by the faith you claim? Can someone watching you as you do your day-to-day activities see the difference that faith has made in your life? Can you see the difference yourself?
Faith without works is dead. Can the person who checks you out at the grocery store see your faith by the way you treat him or her? What does your faith tell you is the right way to treat others? Is that how you treat your co-workers?
Faith is a total lifestyle commitment. Is the amount of money you give to the church consistent with how important you believe the church is in your life and in the world? Is the amount of time you dedicate to the church, to worshiping God and serving others, in line with your most deeply held beliefs?
Faith without works is dead. You say that God is the Father of all; do you treat every person as your brother or sister? You say that Christ invites the world to gather at his table; do you, as part of the body of Christ, extend that invitation on Christ’s behalf? You say you believe; have you allowed your faith to change your life?
To live by what you believe—that is a key component to a life of satisfaction, a life of abundance, a life of wholeness. To live with integrity, so that faith and works are united—that is key to a life of meaning and purpose. To actually do what your faith says you should do—that will bring you and those around you happiness and joy.
I’ve mentioned this before, but in the book Unbinding the Gospel, Martha Grace Reese writes about the time she asked a group of pastors: “What difference does being a Christian make in your life?” … and not one of them could think of an answer.
Let’s not be like that. Let’s let our faith make a difference in how we live. Let’s let what we believe, and what we do, be in sync, so that the world will see and know what a difference Christ makes in our lives.
Marcus Borg & John Dominic Crossan, The First Paul: Reclaiming the Radical Visionary Behind the Church’s Conservative Icon. HarperCollins, 2009.
Martha Grace Reese, Unbinding the Gospel. Chalice Press, 2006.
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