Commentary on James 5:13-20

The first four chapters of James are not exactly comforting. In fact, the author’s blunt, pithy rhetorical style gives quite the opposite sense—this is a letter intended to shock, indict, and jolt readers into faithful, wise action. The author’s focus on integrity—soundness of being—is key throughout. Signs of this soundness include caring for the vulnerable, being consistent and peaceable and also willing to yield to others, and showing mercy (James 1:12, 27; 2:12–13; 3:17–18). Likewise, there are external signs of internal unsoundness of being: double-minded wishy-washy-ness, discrimination against the poor and in favor of the wealthy, and slanderous speech and community disputes (James 1:6–8; 2:1–11; 3:3–12; 4:1–3, 11–12). 

Internal realities inevitably well up into external expression. But those who know they lack wisdom, or who suffer other sorts of maladies, are exhorted to ask (James 1:5; 4:3). And here at the close of chapter 5 (and the whole letter), a softer tone overtakes the harsh accusations of the previous chapters, as the author assures his audience that these prayers will be answered. 

Earlier on in the letter, the author has repeatedly asked questions with apparently obvious answers (for example, “What good is it … ?”—not good—and “Can a fig tree yield olives?”—obviously not). As a result, the tone can come to feel primarily accusatory, with seemingly few solutions offered to the many problems described. Part of the benefit of reading the whole letter for context, and not only excerpted passages, is that after the (arguably warranted!) onslaught of sharp warnings, arriving at this part of the whole feels relieving, reassuring, encouraging. 

Finally, some answers—well, more like one in particular—following the repetitious style of James. Are you suffering? Pray. Are you cheerful? Pray. Is anyone sick? Pray. Eight times in eight verses prayer is mentioned, with three of these in the imperative (in other words, “Do this”): for example, confess your sins and pray for one another for healing (5:16). Appropriate for a letter focused on holistic being, illness and sin are here drawn as companions: the sickness of the body and the sinfulness of the soul, or conversely, sickness of the soul leads to the sinfulness of the body. 

The material dualism that this distinction between body and soul may lend itself to, however, is not on the table for James. Rather, the body belongs to the soul and the soul belongs to the body, “for just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead” (2:26). Recall how often James reminds readers of the deep need for consistency of character (see also 1:4, 6–8, 11, 17, 22–27; 2:10, 17, 26; 3:9–18; 4:1–3; 5:7–12). Confession and prayer do not only bring healing but can “save the sinner’s soul from death and cover a multitude of sins,” the final exhortation of the entire letter (5:20). 

The author of James has earlier invoked several biblical figures: Abraham and Rahab, who illustrate that faith works (2:21–25), and both “the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord” and Job, who provide biblical models of endurance and patience (5:10–11). Here, too, another scriptural exemplar is provided, namely the prophet Elijah, whose whole prophetic ministry is defined by the effectiveness of his prayers. The context in which Elijah is mentioned in James is suggestive of the author’s knowledge not only of his prayer for rain but of a wider swath of tradition surrounding Elijah—rainfall and fruitfulness, healing from sickness, and turning a sinner back from their sinful ways. 

To best understand Elijah’s function in James, his narrative context in the Hebrew Bible is instructive. We are introduced to Elijah in 1 Kings 17, just after Ahab becomes king of Israel (1 Kings 16:29–34). Right away, he makes a bold declaration to the new king: “As the LORD the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word” (17:1). Drought descends. 

Then, in the third year of drought and famine, another word comes to Elijah—at last, the LORD has decided to send rain (18:1). In the aftermath of the crushing defeat (and killing) of the prophets of Asherah and Baal and Israel’s subsequent return to the LORD, Elijah climbs to the top of Mount Carmel and bows down on the ground in a posture of prayer, his face between his knees. Finally, after three and a half years of drought, the sky grows black, wind blows, and heavy rain falls (18:42–46). Elijah’s prayer worked.

In another biblical tradition, Elijah is cast as a sort of superhuman prophet. At the end of his ministry, he does not die but is taken up to heaven in chariots of fire (2 Kings 2:10–12). Elijah appears, glorified, along with Moses—the prophet par excellence—on the mountain at the Transfiguration (see Matthew 17:14–21; Mark 9:2–9; Luke 9:28–36). James, on the other hand, narrows in on the accessibility to Elijah’s prayerful effectiveness, in addition to Abraham’s and Rahab’s faithful actions and the prophets’ and Job’s endurance. These biblical characters are not mentioned by James as unattainable, ideal models but as instructive examples to follow. Elijah was “a man just like us”; that is, James’ readers can imitate this famous prophet (James 5:17). 

Elijah’s prayer works at two levels: his prayer works in that God answers him; his prayer works in that his participation and posture reflect his faithful action. It is these faithful actions that the author of James hopes readers will also come to embody—with body and soul working as one.