Commentary on James 2:1-10 [11-13] 14-17

James is a letter that does not pull any punches. The rhetorical style of this passage is not intended to comfort and assure, but to jolt readers into action. Where some New Testament texts appear to draw a distinction between faith and works, James is rather blunt on the issue: faith without actions that evidence that faith is not actually faith at all. In James 1, it is made clear that duplicity of being—dipsychos, literally being “double-souled” or “double-selved”—has an expiration date. Duplicity leads to doubt (1:6–8), unsteadiness (James 1:9–11), and being easily tempted (James 1:12–18). Those who are “doers of the word and not merely hearers,” on the other hand, endure, care for the poor, and are blessed (James 1:19–25). 

Here in James 2, the author condemns favoritism in no uncertain terms. Where “pure and undefiled” religion (or worship, thréskeia) is caring for the vulnerable, the “religion” of the self-deceived is worthless, nothingness, in vain (James 1:26–27). 

It is this extreme pronouncement of the uselessness of stagnant “religion” that leads into the present passage from chapter 2. Here, the author describes several unacceptable scenarios, addressing readers directly as “you.” A string of rhetorical questions follows each example, to which the answer is given in the asking. First, two people enter your midst: one obviously wealthy and the other obviously poor. If you treat them differently, offering a good seat to the rich person and demanding that the poor one sit at your feet, “have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?” Answer: Yes (James 2:2–4). 

Second, it is good to follow the “royal law according to scripture” to love your neighbor as yourself, but showing any partiality reveals you have still transgressed—stepped outside of—the law (James 2:8–10). “What good is it … if you say you have faith but do not have works?” Answer: It is no good at all (James 2:14). 

Third, if you encounter someone without food or clothing—and we might add any number of vulnerabilities: homelessness, displacement, enslavement—and you pass by with simplistic well-wishes—as James puts it, “Go in peace, stay warm and eat your fill”—without providing peace, warmth, or sustenance—“what is the good of that?” Answer: Words alone are useless (Jamess 2:16). 

The “royal law” of James 2:8 is drawn from Leviticus, central source material for both the author of James and the teaching of Jesus. In Leviticus 19, instructions are given that fields are to be left alone after the first harvest and not reaped up to the edges, so that poor and itinerant people can glean what remains, for “I am the LORD your God” (verses 9–10); stealing, lying, and swearing oaths are prohibited (verses 11–12); oppression, robbery, wage theft or withholding, and cursing or intentionally tripping up those who are deaf or blind are all forbidden (verses 13–14), as are injustice in court, partiality to anyone, slander, hatred, unreasonableness, and grudge-keeping (verses 15–18). Instead, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself: I am the LORD” (verse 18). This is what it looks like to follow the “royal law.”

The same instructions appear later, in the New Testament. In the Gospel of Mark, a grammateus, an official scribe or scholar, overhears Jesus debating with the Sadducees and challenges him to name the greatest commandment. Instead of a straightforward answer, Jesus provides two. 

The first is the Shema, the central recited prayer of Judaism from Deuteronomy 6: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” (Mark 12:28–30; Deuteronomy 6:4–5). In other words, the Lord is whole, sound, unified; therefore, you should love the Lord with your own whole being. The second is, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31; Leviticus 19:18). And “after this,” offers Mark, “no one dared to ask him any question” (verse 34). 

In Matthew, the one who approaches Jesus is a Pharisee who is also an expert in the law. After a more clipped version of the two commandments, Matthew’s Jesus gets the last word: “On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 22:34–40).

Just as duplicitousness is a fracture of being, favoritism—and therefore injustice—is a fracture of its own. Instead of showing partiality, we are to speak and to act as those who will be weighed not against an arbitrary law of legalism but against one of freedom and mercy, “for judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment” (James 2:12–13). Rather than unjust bias, oppressive and manipulative legal structures, and priority handed to those with the money to buy it, we must show mercy, because we know that “the Lord is full of mercy” (5:11). There is a crucial distinction between legalism and justice. 

For the author of James, to show preference to the wealthy, especially those who performatively demonstrate their riches, while overlooking or even actively oppressing the lowly and poor is not only dishonorable but starkly revealing of a person’s rotten inner being. After all, “has not God chosen the poor of the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom?” Answer: Yes (James 2:5). 

James has explained what faithful action entails. Faithful living, in this sense, is a two-sided coin: inaction is also faithlessness. Belief without works is not faith; conviction without action is emptiness. The author presents a challenge: show me your faith without action—I dare you—and I will provide confirmation of my faith through action (2:18). The rhetoric is clear: this separation is impossible, because faith works.