Review by Kenneth P. Kramer

Why would a scholar of Buddhism single out the Letter of James for an in-depth reading? What happens when this epistle, which Martin Luther dismissed as an “epistle of straw,” is read through the prism of Mahayana Buddhism? John Keenan answers these questions in his extensively documented, persuasively written commentary. Using Mahayana Buddhism as a “reading grid,” Keenan argues that James weaves three themes into his discourse: apocalyptic awakening, wisdom and non-discrimination, and social engagement. Within this framework, Keenan’s exegesis explores how James elaborated his basic theme of “socially engaged wisdom.” Keenan’s five chapters (one for each chapter of James) offer a new translation of the Greek text, a commentary in dialogue with existing critical scholarship, and a Mahayanist perspective on key passages.

Keenan’s introduction raises several textual problems: James’s letter lacks any clear Christian teaching; it does not mention the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, who is only named twice (1:1, 2:1); and it provides no historical markers, leading scholars to propose two different periods for its composition—early James (around 50 CE) and late James (perhaps after 100 CE). Entering the historical discussion, Keenan proposes that “there is no definite reason not to understand the author of the Letter of James to be the brother of Jesus and pillar of the Jerusalem church” (7), and that James’ readers “were unaware that being Christian meant anything different from being Jewish…” (13-14). For these reasons, in addition to examining the relationships between Mahayana Buddhism and James’s epistle, Keenan also explores the Book of James in relation to the Hebrew canon. The advantage of such a canonical reading is that it offers an intra-canonical “check and balance” against misreading of other texts, especially of Paul’s epistles.

In chapter one, calling our attention to other Jewish scriptures, Keenan writes that like Jacob in Genesis 32:28 and Isaiah in 49:1-6, James (Hebrew: Jacob) is identified as the slave, or servant, of God, one who surrenders himself completely to God’s will. Such surrender reminds Keenan of the selfless devotion to “pure land buddhas” in Mahayana practice. Indeed, Keenan could have made an even a stronger case here by recalling that the Hebrew word eved, translated as “slave,” specifically means spiritual submission and devotional service when it is used in relation to God,.

In chapter two, Keenan focuses on James’ demand for engaged action against injustice. In other words, Keenan’s commentary here focuses on the behavioral consequences of wisdom. The pivotal verses upon which Keenan grounds his argument are 2:14-17: “what good is it, my brothers, if a person says he has faith but has no practice . . .” (2:14). Keenan agrees with Luke Johnson that James’ understanding of “works” is related to rabbinical enumah (trust) rather than to law, and that such a reading is consistent with the dominant New Testament teachings on moral justice. Perhaps it is Paul, therefore, and not James, who departs from the canonical tradition. As Keenan writes, James’ emphasis on works and “non-discriminative wisdom engaged in concrete social activity to bring about justice and peace for the poor and marginalized” (91) balances Paul’s focus on faith without works. Keenan parallels this wisdom with Japanese pure land Buddhist shinjin, the mind of abandoning self and faithfully trusting the other-power of Buddha.

In chapter three, James contrasts the practice of engaged faith with its opposite—the burning world in which “the tongue is a fire” (3:6). According to James, the tongue is “in charge of our members” and creates the delusion and discrimination that perpetuate social injustice. Keenan appropriately parallels this point with Buddha’s teaching that “the tongue is on fire” (106) with passion, hatred, and attachment. Keenan suggests that, for James, these images of fire are connected to satanic enmity, which engenders human suffering. The antidote to this burning world is pure, peaceful, compassionate wisdom from God. Wisdom and compassion, in Mahayanist terms, are pillars upholding the life of the awakened person (buddhacarita). Engaged wisdom is therefore not comprised of a set of discreet good deeds but is implied in a lifetime of spontaneous compassion.

And yet, in one of the many logical turns that the Book of James takes, in chapter four James makes clear that the wisdom of compassion is not attainable by our actions alone. It requires God’s grace, which is given especially to the poor and marginal, not because of their situations, but because they are most ready to receive it. However, while true wisdom is a gift, significant action is required of the one who receives it: “Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you” (4:8). Keenan correctly indicates that this theology of “drawing near” or turning (teshuva) to God runs through Hebrew scripture. Commenting on James’s exploration of this “dynamic, enticing process,” Keenan enlists a central insight from Abraham Joshua Heschel, one that he might have given greater emphasis—namely, that the Hebrew God is a God of relationship. The spatial metaphors—God’s “standing” against the proud and “giving” to the marginal—suggest a divine-human relationship that contradicts the unchanging God of metaphysicians.

Chapter five concludes the Book of James, and Keenan’s analysis, with a discussion of the relationship between delusion and escatological patience. Beginning with a ferocious denunciation of the rich—“your wealth has rotted and your garments have become moth-eaten” (5:2)—James re-introduces the theme of patience, with which he began his letter (c.f. 1:4), writing: “be patient, my brothers, until the coming of the Lord…because the coming of the Lord is near” (5:7-8). James did not use Jesus as the example of such “unmeasured escatology,” which suggests, for Keenan, that the early followers of Jesus were still attempting to comprehend his brutal death. James promises that since delusions are shattered by the gift of wisdom, “the engaged prayer of a righteous person has great power” (5:16). For James, Keenan holds, prayer is most effective when “one is engaged in concrete works.” In engaged prayer, one saves oneself from the self. Appropriately, Keenan ends his commentary by discussing parallels between engaged prayer and Buddha’s “middle path,” which replaces self-clinging with compassionate action in the world.

Keenan’s volume makes a substantial contribution to New Testament studies. His fresh translation from the Greek uncovers shades of meaning only implicit in previous translations; his innovative commentary provides an even-handed treatment of the differences between James and Paul; and his extensive endnotes are a goldmine for serious readers of James’s epistle. His most provocative contribution, however, is his inclusion of the Mahayana perspective. In these intriguing intrareligious reflections, Keenan broadens our thinking about James’ message. At the same time, Keenan might have aided readers by providing a more detailed discussion of the Mahayana tradition, including references to different schools and significant texts, as he did in two earlier works, The Meaning of Christ: A Mahayana Theology and The Gospel of Mark: A Mahayana Reading. Some of the parallels between James and Mahayana Buddhism that Keenan offers cry out for more contextual details, as the sources of Mahayanist thought, like those of Christian thought, are contextually dependant. This book is recommended for those readers of the New Testament who are willing to be freed from the interpretive boundaries of their own religious traditions.