Advent 2, Year A | Matthew 3:1-12
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
December 4, 2022
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
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Repentance is a central theme not only of the season of Advent but throughout the Gospels. When we hear the term, we might remember times we’ve seen people standing on street corners with big signs or using bullhorns to yell out judgment over particular evils of society. Most of us probably imagine scenes from TV or movies where sobbing people fall on their knees, publicly shouting out everything bad they’ve ever done and begging God to forgive them as they collapse on the floor in convulsions. One of the main ideas we carry about the fiery preaching of repentance comes from our Gospel reading today, where we see John (supposedly) deriding people and threatening them with talk of trees being chopped down and tossed into unquenchable fire along with the world’s chaff. All of this kind of fear and drama have become significant markers of repentance in Modern American Christianity.
However, most of those things that come to mind when we hear the term have very little to do with repentance itself. Repentance doesn’t always start with fear or terror. Nor does it require any type of mental or physical breakdown. It doesn’t demand condemnation or self-loathing or emotional displays. Things like guilt and confession might precede repentance, but they aren’t central to actual repentance.
In the Hebrew Bible, the word we translate as “repent” simply means “turn around.” We do this kind of thing all the time without even thinking about it. Maybe you’re driving to a friend’s house for the first time and miss their street. As soon as you realize it, you “repent”—you turn around and head back in the right direction. It’s as simple as that.
A few years ago I was in Tokyo learning to use their subway system. The station near my hotel was very simple—basically one entrance and one exit. I assumed all the stations worked that way, so when I headed downtown, despite the hallway continuing to stretch in front of me, I took the first exit I came across. Once I was above ground, I realized I was about a mile away from where I wanted to be, so I got my bearings, turned around, and started the walk to my landmark. I “repented.” Before getting used to that transit system (and discovering that my phone could provide step-by-step walking directions in all the stations—even underground) I spent a lot of time and energy “repenting” throughout that trip. I might have been tired or occasionally frustrated with myself after all that walking, but I didn’t make a big deal about the mistakes I made—I didn’t cry and moan or fall in a heap on the floor. I didn’t make a public spectacle or beat myself up. I just started paying more attention to the signs and corrected my course as necessary.
In the New Testament and the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible popular in Jesus’ day, the word we see as “repent” is slightly different. Breaking down its parts, it literally means “mind change.” The basic concept is to reconsider—to think again. But there’s a danger for us if we stop there. In our culture, we spend a lot of effort and energy focusing on the mental realm—so much so that we assume understanding a concept is all we really need to do with it. But in Jesus’ time, people didn’t think an idea quite existed until it was put into physical practice. Life wasn’t theoretical. Thoughts themselves really didn’t count for anything—your actions revealed the reality behind your words. So you could say that you love your neighbor, but that was only true once you began to take action by doing kind things for those around you. You could say that you loved the poor, but if you continued to neglect them or treat them poorly, your love didn’t actually exist. You could proclaim to the world about how you love your enemy, but if you didn’t begin to treat them with respect, that supposed love was completely imaginary—you were lying to yourself and everyone around you.
So for us to really get what the Bible means by “repentance,” we need to simplify it a little bit more, down to just one word:
Change.
That’s it—“change”—on all levels: mind, body, action…whatever. But genuinely change.
All those displays we associate with repentance have little to do with the reality of repentance. I can publicly bewail and groan over my sins, but if my life doesn’t change, all I’ve done is confessed. I might proclaim doom and gloom, but if my everyday actions don’t reflect genuine love and concern for those around me, all I’m doing is making noise. I can reprimand hypocrites and condemn specific harmful actions, but if I refuse to encourage people as they learn how to live differently, all I’ve really done is insult someone or complain. Repentance doesn’t happen until I take action to resolve the problem.
We’ve talked about the concept of justification or righteousness—same root word in the Bible. It’s easy for us to think about being “justified” in legal terms, like being acquitted or having our case dismissed. I ask God for forgiveness, and God sets me in right standing—makes me “righteous” or “justifies” me. But true righteousness and justice demands that we be aligned with something outside of ourselves, that we continue to make an effort to follow an external standard or rule of life—something that we know to be genuinely good. And the ultimate standard—the one that truly defines reality—is God.
As Christians, we follow Jesus as the revelation of God’s own actions and desires. We listen to Jesus to reassess our own positions and standings. We turn to Jesus as he reveals the path of mercy and love. We look at our lives and see where we are—we see who we are and how we compare to God’s standard, Jesus. And then we repent: we turn around. We begin to change and, in that moment, discover ourselves to be justified—to be aligned with God.
It doesn’t matter where you happen to be when you recognize the problem. We all start from different places. What matters is taking the action necessary to change. Maybe you thought you’ve been following God all your life but suddenly realize that you’re angle’s a little off. Look back to God; turn; and change. Maybe you’ve been walking backwards—looking toward God but taking actions that lead somewhere else. Maybe this is the first time you’ve ever even really thought about God or God’s paths. It’s the same no matter who or where you might be: take an honest look at where you are; turn around; and change. That’s all that repentance—all that the Christian life—really is. See where you are. Look to God. And then begin to walk in that direction.
All of us will wander. We’ll take the wrong exit at the subway station or drive past our destination. It happens. We’re human. And being human is not a sin. The problem only arises when we reject reality and refuse to change direction.
Our paths might not be identical: we all begin our journeys toward God from different starting points. But our goal is the same. All of us can repent. Each of us can begin walking paths of justice and love. Every single one of us can change.