Song of Solomon 2:8-13; Psalm 15; Mark 7:1-23; James 1:17-27
I hope you didn't get the impression, from what I was saying just now in our theme introduction, that I think the visible outside of things isn't important too. My time away looking at art galleries and museums this summer reminded me how much I appreciate the beauty of art. The volunteer guide at the Burrell Collection in Glasgow was so enthusiastic that she led us round the museum for an hour and a half! We looked at Chinese pottery, stained glass, Impressionist paintings, and felt we could go on forever learning from her how to appreciate the elegance on display - or at least till our feet got too tired!
In the Bible we also find passages of great beauty, such as the reading we have just heard from the Song of Solomon. While for centuries the church tried to argue this book was purely about the relationship between God and us, it's also a series of love poems between two human beings; and even if you're not in love, it offers wonderful images. Listen: "The winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance." Even if we'd not just lived through a summer where the rain is never over and gone, wouldn't that bring the freshness of spring to mind? And the artists whose creativity refreshes us can be inspired by ordinary life, such as a beautiful spring day.
Yet just because artists are inspired, it doesn't necessarily make them saints. If Solomon really was the author of the Song of Songs, his tangled marital affairs don't exactly make him a role model, and through the ages artists have been selfish, unfaithful and downright irresponsible in the pursuit of their art. Like the Pharisee, so focussed on personal holiness it damaged his family, they have put such a high priority on one part of their lives that all else has been distorted. Going back to Sir William Burrell, the shipping magnate who bequeathed the amazing collection which bears his name to the city of Glasgow, I suspect that, though his business dealings acknowledged the letter of the law, he did not make the millions he spent on his collection in the spirit of Christian generosity.
You may be wondering why, in a church coming from the Presbyterian tradition, I'm bringing up the topic of art. For our Reformed forebears were pretty clear that God was to be found in the Word, and not in pictures. Reacting to the art to be found in Roman Catholic churches, and following the commandment forbidding us to make images of God, they smashed statues and stained-glass windows, whether they attempted to depict God or people. They forbad singing hymns unless the words came from the Bible - our traditional metrical psalms and paraphrases. And the move away from the Catholic use of images to help Christian devotion was seen in homes as well as in churches, as artists began to paint family portraits, not scenes from the Bible.
Put this way, the Reformation sounds rather negative. Yet at the same time, God's holiness began to be recognised beyond the walls of the church, as regular family prayers and joint Bible reading replaced daily services. So we Reformed Christians were given the freedom to become, as it were, theological artists, as we reflected on our experiences of God in daily living.
Of course, not everyone could cope with such freedom. Some chose to replace the Pope as final authority with the minister- and believe me, that's a mistake. Some made the Bible into a book of answers about the faith, or short-circuited the process and learned the Catechism by heart, saving themselves the trouble of trying to work out what they themselves truly believed. But theirs was a mistake already found when James was writing his letter to Christians: to become hearers of the word, not doers. And still today you'll get people who know their Bibles inside out, but never consider how it should relate to their lives Monday to Saturday.
You may still be wondering how what I'm saying can help us here. I'm no artist, you may be thinking - though I know many in our congregation produce beautiful paintings and photos. I'm no Bible scholar, you may be thinking - though I know of people in St Andrew's whose reflection on the Scriptures is rooted deep in their lives. As James explains to his readers, we are all given different gifts by God.
Yet one gift has been given to each of us Christians: Christ, God's word of truth. And, as Paul tells us elsewhere, that gift makes each of us God's unique work of art, but an artwork with a difference: one that is continually being created, by the way we deal with life. To use James' metaphor, we are the first-fruits of creation. But again, we are no ordinary plants: for we Christians have the responsibility of weeding ourselves! Get rid of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, James tells his hearers, as though he were talking about ground elder. Dramatic! But what he's telling them - and us - is mundane. Be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger. He sounds a bit boring. Surely we know how to behave? But disagreements which hurt marriage partners, or friends, or fellow church members, can have their origin when: ‘He didn't listen.' ‘She went into a temper before I could say anything.' Nowadays, with email and texting, it's even easier for little weeds of disagreement to sprout into big and troublesome conflicts. And James doesn't stop there, for if like the Pharisee we take care not to do anything negative, but don't give positive care to those in need either, we're still not growing as we should.
I need to go away this morning asking God how my own life can become more Christ-like. So do you. If we think James is talking to other people, we have fallen into the Pharisee's trap. But living as God's first-fruits, God's work of art, isn't something that only saints can hope to achieve. Look at the description in Psalm 15 of those who live according to God's laws. They do right. They say what they think. They don't lie or hurt their friends; they don't gossip about their neighbours. They don't go along with evil, and aren't afraid to say they love God. They keep their promises, even when it hurts them. They don't use their own power against the powerless, or attack those who've done nothing wrong. Because we're human, and get things wrong, we'll not always live up to that. But as we ask God's forgiveness for our faults, and God's help in weeding them out, gradually, imperceptibly, we are all changing into God's works of art: more precious, more stunning than anything you'll ever see on the Antiques Roadshow or in the Burrell Collection. Thanks be to God!