It is one of those chicken and the egg type questions: Which comes first – right belief (orthodoxy) or right actions (orthopraxis)? Do we believe correctly and those beliefs compel us to act and live in a God-pleasing way, or do we act correctly, faithfully, and those actions transform us into persons who understand and believe the truth of the gospel? Typically we stress that right belief precedes right action, and there is much to commend this position; however, being ever prone to arguing the other side, today I’m going to make the case for the opposite view – that orthopraxis precedes orthodoxy.
When we serve communion in church, we stand and say the Apostles’ Creed; and remember how that begins? “I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, God’s only begotten Son, our Lord.” Beliefs are important, but they are not necessarily the starting point of faith. Something always precedes saying “I believe in Jesus Christ” – something that makes it possible to say “I believe in Christ.” In a few moments, we will invite forward a wonderful group of people who will join our congregation as new members. I encourage you to listen closely to the questions we will ask them. To the new members, I will not say “Do you believe in Jesus Christ?”, but rather “Do you trust in Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” I will not say “Do you believe in God’s word in the bible?”, but rather “Do you intend to obey Christ’s word and show his love? And the last question is this: “Will you be a faithful member of this congregation, giving of yourself in every way and so fulfill your calling as a disciple of Jesus Christ? People always assume that to be a Christian, you must first clearly believe certain doctrines – understand and accept them with all your mind and reason – when in effect to be a Christian is much more about the actions of trusting Christ, obeying Christ, and fulfilling the calling Christ has placed on your life. It’s about orthopraxis more than orthodoxy.
This view may seem counter-intuitive but it is illustrated by today’s gospel lesson. Inside a synagogue on a Sabbath day, a woman was waiting. For 18 years she could not straighten herself up. Was this some debilitating form of osteoporosis, or a muscular weakness in her spine and back? Was hers a symbolic illness of how women are oppressed, beaten down, and marginalized in male-dominated worlds? Probably all of the above. Miracles always work on several levels at once – the physical and the emotional, the literal and the figurative. What we do know is that this woman was trapped, unable to look others in the eye, unable to fully live. And when the religious leaders saw her, they also believed she was trapped – that Satan was afflicting her; and that because it was the Sabbath when all “work” is forbidden, there was nothing they could do for her. Whatever else was keeping her bent over, the weight of religious beliefs was adding to her burden.
There was orthodoxy (right belief) present in that synagogue long ago. The Jews rightfully believed that the Sabbath is a special day – a time set apart to focus on God and come together to witness to the Lord’s power revealed in communities of faith. But on that Sabbath, orthodoxy had nothing to say to this bent over woman – which is why Jesus broke the silence. His orthopraxis (right actions) led to others’ orthodoxy. First, Jesus saw her humanity and called out to her “Woman, daughter of Abraham”, thereby affirming her as part of the community. Then he acted and touched her. Jesus broke through the invisible social and religious barriers that surrounded her. He cared enough to challenge precedent and beliefs to reach out and put his hand on the problem directly so that she might be made well. This woman hadn’t asked to be healed. We know nothing about the depth of her faith, her orthodoxy – so we cannot say that she had earned her healing by her right beliefs. Yet we do know that as soon as she straightened up, she began praising God. Those whose beliefs had become a barrier to right action were put to shame, while others rejoiced with the woman “at all the wonderful things being done.” Orthopraxis.
I recently read a fascinating memoir by the writer Karen Armstrong, who also wrote A History of God and books on Christianity, Islam and Buddhism. At seventeen, she entered the convent as a nun; but after seven unhappy years, she realized this wasn’t her calling, so she went off to study English literature at Oxford. For most of her life, she’d felt isolated and socially-embarrassed, being periodically prone to fainting spells or ending up in places with no idea how she’d gotten there or troubled by odd visions and disturbing images. The nuns had called her overly-sensitive. Her Oxford professors believed she couldn’t handle the stress of rigorous academics. Psychiatrists insisted she was ill because she refused to come to grips with childhood traumas. Only at the age of 31 did a doctor run the simple diagnostic test that verified she suffered from a fully treatable form of epilepsy.
Listen as Armstrong described her reaction to this news: I walked down Mortimer Street in a daze. For many people, a diagnosis of epilepsy must be unwelcome news, but for me it was an occasion of pure happiness. As I looked at the grimy buildings, the littered London streets and overflowing dustbins, this urban detritus seemed a vision of beauty. For the first time in years, I felt that I could trust my perceptions. I knew now that my mind was neither broken nor irretrievably flawed. I was not made, and need not expect to end my days in a locked ward. The world had been given back to me, and perhaps for the first time ever, I felt that I could take charge of my life.1
Armstrong then finds her way back to conversations about faith, studying first the history of Jerusalem and the Christian Crusades. This inevitably led her into deeper study of Judaism, Islam and the life of Muhammad. And to her, as well, came the insight that in most religious traditions, faith is not about belief but about practice. It is not about strictly accepting set doctrines as it is about doing things that change and transform you. She uses a marvelous phrase for this; she calls it an “ethical alchemy.”2 We discover the truth of faith by putting the faith into practice – and in those acts, an alchemy, a change occurs, and we are transformed forever.
To be sure, the dance between orthodoxy and orthopraxis is a mutual one. The ethical alchemy of faith doesn’t occur in a vacuum. There is obviously some degree of familiarity with the teachings of Jesus, the good news of the resurrected Christ, which motivates us to put faith into practice. But if I could give you a vision for life today, it would not be the image of a scholar locked away in a corner of the library, pondering quaint and curious volumes of forgotten lore, who suddenly has a spark of inspiration and sits up in her chair and says “Eureka!” to no one in particular. No, I’d offer you the vision of the biblical woman bent over and oppressed for 18 years who is spoken to, touched, and then who straightens up – and in that moment fully, deeply, joyfully praises God. That faithful woman is kin to the later women who trudged in the pre-dawn light, bent and burdened with grief as they went to the cemetery, only to stand bolt upright when they joyfully discovered the one who was dead is now alive. That faithful woman is related to Peter and the other disciples huddled behind locked doors, bent over tables fearful of the world until the Holy Spirit emboldens them so that they stand upright and hurry out into Jerusalem on Pentecost to joyfully share the good news of the gospel. Their actions preceded their words. Orthopraxis before orthodoxy.
In closing, one additional image. This week we remember how 50 years ago, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and other civil rights pioneers led the March on Washington. Lest we think of this as a one-time event, there were smaller gatherings in 1957 and 1958 protesting the lack of progress in integrating the public schools despite the historic Brown v. Board of Education ruling. But the 1963 event, whose full title was the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, drew 200,000 attendees and was a driving force in pushing Congress and the nation to accept the Civil Rights Act and Voting Rights Act. But as compelling as King’s “I Have A Dream” speech was, it was only effective because so many people got up and marched and gathered so he could deliver it. When it comes to personal faith, taking a step forward – to visit a church, to join a congregation, to reach out to help another person in need – is precious and important. But when it comes to justice, to righteousness and straightening up all who are burdened and heavy laden in this world, stepping forward, marching down the street, acting each day to make things better for all God’s children is crucial. Orthopraxis, that wonderful ethical alchemy reliant on God’s all-powerful grace, changes lives forever. Thanks be to God!
AMEN