Left to Right: My mom (Barbara Sloan), me, and my sister (Elin)
My sister, Elin, and I are very good friends. We talk with each other at least once a week. I am privileged to be the godfather of my niece and was blessed to help baptize my nephews this past summer. We spend a week together each summer as camp directors and another week at the beach. In all of these settings I realize more and more how thankful I am to have my older sister; however, that has not always been the case.
Elin was born eight years before I was, and I am pretty certain that for those eight years she felt like the center of the universe, or at least the center of our family. She was not only the only child to my mom and dad, but she was also the only grandchild of my mom's parents. While I think at first she thought having a little brother was great (I was like a live doll with which she could play), soon she realized that she had to share the time and affection of her family. This did not go well for either of us.
For about ten years Elin and I struggled to figure out how to interact with one another. There were days and weeks when I am sure we were nice to each other. Yet, the bulk of memories with my sister from the first decade of my life are traumatic, like the time when I asked her to tie my shoes and kicked her when she was on my level, or that time that I beat her in bowling and she wouldn't talk with me for several days, and who could forget all those times when she would tell me that she had been tested as a genius when she was my age, and I was not nearly as smart as she was. Those first few years were very difficult for us individually and as siblings. Something happened when she went away to college though. Almost immediately we both felt immense sadness, and our relationship shifted. Since then, we have developed a great friendship realizing all our shared experiences and things in common that we love.
It seems unclear who James of Jerusalem is. Some early Church scholars point to him being the cousin of Jesus of Nazareth. This is what our Catholic sisters and brothers believe. There is apocryphal writings that describe him as a child of Joseph's first wife, which sounds a bit scandalous to me. Our gospel for today though (Matthew 13:54-58), points to James being one of the brothers of Jesus. Regardless of the familial relationship that he shares with Jesus, I have to think that growing up with the Messiah would have been difficult. I can hear the voice of Mary, "Why can't you be more like your brother Jesus?" and Joseph, "You know your brother Jesus was healing lepers by your age?" All joking aside, growing up with Jesus as your actual brother would have been as fascinating as it would have been difficult.
Matthew describes that the people in his hometown synagogue could not believe the deeds of power that he was completing. What about his family? I wonder if they were the ones had the biggest doubts in him. Mary certainly stood by her son throughout his entire earthly ministry, but we hear less about Joseph and his sons. In Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians (15:1-11), Jesus first appears to James after the resurrection. Maybe it took something so shocking as overcoming death for Jesus' brother to realize that something special was happening in his brother's ministry. It makes me think that maybe we are missing something that is happening right under our noses. Who am I overlooking? What is happening even in my own family's life that is powerful, life-giving, or restorative?
From the time that James met his resurrected brother until his death, he shared the gospel with an intense passion. Early historians called James "the Just," as he was constantly praying for those in need, coming to help them, and serving as an intermediary between Paul and Peter who did not often occupy the same space. Many came to believe in Jesus through James, who did not cut his hair or oil his body. Although his uncleanliness did not get him into trouble, his evangelism did. When other factions in Jerusalem asked him to stop his preaching they took him to the top of the temple and asked him to preach down for these early Christians to turn away from Jesus. James stood firm in his faith and was thrown from the temple and beaten to death.
I recently spoke with some friends about whether or not the Resurrection of Jesus was real. Among the many reasons I have faith in Christ overcoming death is the witness of James the Just. He went from being a doubting brother who could not believe in his brother's deeds of power to being a leader in the evangelical movement of the early Church. He was willing to die for someone in whom he believed. This strengthens my own faith.
So as we remember James, the brother of Jesus, I wonder what are we missing in our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers, our cousins and friends? I bet if we look close enough we will observe some deeds of power. We might just observe a moment of resurrection. We will see the Christ within each other! And for that thanks be to God!
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