Finding our Way: Repentance as a Path to Peace
A sermon on repentance as an invitation to grow, not a guilt trip
In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,
“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord;
make his paths straight.’ ”Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. Then Jerusalem and all Judea and all the region around the Jordan were going out to him, and they were baptized by him in the River Jordan, confessing their sins.
But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming for his baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Therefore, bear fruit worthy of repentance, and do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.
“I baptize you with water for repentance, but the one who is coming after me is more powerful than I, and I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” ~Matthew 3: 1–12, NRSVUE
I shared a John the Baptist meme on the church’s social media feeds yesterday in honor of today’s Scripture reading. It’s a close-up of John from one of those old-school Jesus movies. He looks like a cross between Hagrid from Harry Potter and 1970s Burt Reynolds. Across the bottom of the image, big letters read, “Happy Advent, you brood of vipers!”
That juxtaposition of “Happy Advent” and “you brood of vipers” sums up pretty well the whiplash that pastors, or at least this pastor, feel preaching John the Baptist during Advent.
I know that it makes sense that we should tell his story now. John’s job was to prepare the way for Jesus, after all, and that’s what the season of Advent is all about. But you have to admit that it feels weird to light the Candle of Peace, sing “Angels We Have Heard on High,” and then read John’s message to repent or burn like chaff left on the threshing floor.
Our theme for Advent this year is Finding our Way. Oddly enough, the more I’ve had to wrestle with John’s sermons over the years, the more I discover that the curmudgeonly street preacher’s calls to repentance may actually be able to guide us in finding our way toward peace.
While the description of John roaming the wilderness wearing camel hair clothes and scavenging for bugs to eat may remind us of the movie Castaway or of an zealous Fred Flintstone, it would remind Matthew’s original audience of the prophet Isaiah. His quoting Scripture about a voice in the wilderness preparing the way of the Lord would remind them of God leading the Israelites through the desert and toward the Promised Land. So John is a prophet whose message is about liberation and the fulfillment of God’s promises.
One would think roaming the wilderness preaching about repentance and judgment wouldn’t be a great recruiting strategy for him, though. Undoubtedly, John could attract more followers if he started a podcast or created quality content for TikTok, especially if he tweaked his message so that it was a little more prosperity gospel and less turn-or-burn.
But, for some reason, people do go into the wilderness searching for the baptizer. I doubt they go just to be entertained by him because the wilderness can be dangerous. They assume some risk in going to seek out John. And regardless of why they go, once they find him and listen to him, many proceed to confess their sins and have John baptize them.
It’s not only outcasts and bored teenagers who set out in search of John either. Pharisees and Sadducees come, too. They’re the upper crust, the folks who have what they need and are generally looked up to by those who don’t. Socially speaking, they have more to lose than to gain by being associated with the ranting street preacher. And John has a harsh message for them.
“You are a bunch of snakes. If you think getting dunked in this river is enough to cleanse you and save you from the wrath upon us, then you’re sorely mistaken. Your life has to bear the fruit of repentance. And don’t think that you can skate by on your heritage either. Descending from Abraham doesn’t automatically make you right with God. Yes, you are one of God’s chosen children, but God can adopt children, too. In fact, God could turn stones into children if God wants to.”
John warns that trees that don’t bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into a fire. While John baptizes with water as a symbol of repentance, someone more powerful, more worthy than him is coming. And this person will baptize not just with water but also with fire and the Holy Spirit. This one will gather up the good wheat and burn the chaff left on the threshing floor.
We progressive Protestants don’t talk about repentance a whole lot. Essentially we associate that message with angry people who hold up signs at Pride rallies, abortion clinics, and busy Metro stops. Instead, we prefer to talk about forgiveness and reconciliation.
And when Christians do talk about repentance, the goal is usually to make people feel terrible about who they are or something they’ve done. John implies that repentance causes our lives to bear good fruit, though. It doesn’t just stop us from doing something wrong. It propels us to produce goodness. Shame and self-loathing aren’t good fruit, so they shouldn’t be our goal when discussing the need to repent. What if we thought of repentance less as a guilt trip and more as an invitation to grow?
This is an area where I believe we Christians can learn from our Jewish siblings. They have Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, every year. Now, I know we say that Jesus atoned for sin once and for all, but we have to acknowledge that there can be something good about having a regular practice of asking ourselves, “Who and what have I wronged? Who and what have I hurt? What steps can I take to repair as much as possible the damage I have caused?”
When Christians talk about repentance, we tend to define it as doing an about-face. We turn away from sin and toward Jesus. But in her book On Repentance and Repair, Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg says the word repent means “to return.” Yes, that does have connotations of turning away from sin, but it also implies repair.
Our focus on forgiveness and reconciliation actually puts the responsibility to repair on the person who has been hurt. But repentance work reminds us that when we cause hurt or harm, we should take responsibility for our actions. And we will cause hurt and harm. Because we’re human.
So let’s explore what repentance is. In her book, Rabbi Ruttenberg elaborates on the work of the medieval philosopher Maimonides. According to Ruttenberg, Maimonides synthesized scattered and complicated rabbinic teachings. In her book, she elaborates on those teachings for modern readers.
Maimonides said that there are five steps to repentance. Here they are:
First, we name and own the harm caused. Of course, the starting place is recognizing that we’ve done something wrong or hurtful. Rabbi Ruttenberg says the confession should be as public as the harm caused. If I insult my sibling at the dinner table, then I should acknowledge the hurt I caused in front of the family, too. If I start a rumor at school, I should own up to it in front of the people I gossiped with, not only the ones whom the rumor was about. If I post something on social media that I learn is racist, I should acknowledge that on social media, not just privately in the DMs of the person who called me out.
After naming the harm, the next step is to begin to change. We feel remorse and stop doing the thing that causes damage. Ruttenberg names all sorts of ways that we can begin that transformation. We might step away from toxic friendships. We may go to therapy or rehab or call our sponsor. We may start educating ourselves or do the introspective work of meditating or praying about the situation.
Proactively beginning to change leads us to restitution and accepting the consequences of our actions. For those familiar with 12-step programs, this is the making amends step. We make right what we can, and we accept the consequences of our actions or lack of action. If I have taken something, I give it back or replace it. If I need to pay for damages, doctor bills, or time lost from work, I do, as best I can. And accepting consequences means that we acknowledge that sometimes we hurt relationships beyond repair. People don’t owe us their forgiveness. No one is required to stick around just because we own up to having hurt them.
Interestingly, apologizing doesn’t come until step 4. When asked about this on The Bible for Normal People podcast, Rabbi Ruttenberg says, “You know, an apology sounds different when we’ve done some work first.” We’ve heard those apologies, haven’t we? And we know that they make a difference.
According to Maimonides, repentance’s final step is making different choices. When we know what causes harm, we stop doing it. Like Maya Angelou said, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then, when you know better, do better.”
There you have it.
Rabbi Ruttenberg is clear, though, that when it comes to repentance, we must consider power dynamics. We must think about who has power, how it functions, and how it can be weaponized. This is why she believes that repentance is more important than forgiveness. She wrote her book in response to the Me Too movement, so she’s clear about how damaging it can be when we put more pressure on victims to forgive and move on than we do on holding powerful people who cause harm accountable for their actions.
I wonder if this might be why John preaches his message in the wilderness instead of on busy street corners. The people who seek him out have to leave the city, and hence the power structures and social systems make cities thrive. No matter one’s social status, people are vulnerable to the same dangers and risks in the wilderness. The hot sun beats on everyone equally, and a hungry wildcat has no idea how many assets their potential prey has.
Once separated from their privileges, might those well-off Pharisees and Sadducees better hear that John’s challenge is actually an invitation to grow? Is this what they need to become open to recieving his tough love? And once set free from the social ladder that keeps them at the bottom, might those the city pushes to the margins hear the freedom in John’s message? They are worthy of repentance. They deserve better than having bad fruit thrown at them over and over again.
John says that the one coming, Jesus, will separate the wheat from the chaff. The wheat will be gathered up, and the chaff burned. I wonder if, to some extent, this isn’t so much that some people are wheat worthy of being gathered and others are chaff deserving of being burned, but if this might mean that we each are a harvest. Both wheat and chaff dwell within each of us.
Doing the work of repentance requires us to acknowledge the chaff within us. It demands that we do the inner and outer labor of repairing what we can. And it means that we change our behavior once we know better. Could John be saying that practicing repentance is the process of inviting Jesus to burn the chaff within us so that what’s left is the wheat? A pruning process so that our lives can produce more good fruit? Is doing the work of repentance a pathway to peace for us and for those we have harmed? If so, that is a way worth finding.
(You can purchase Dayna Ruttenberg’s book On Repentance and Repair here.)
