a sermon on repentance in Advent

is a terrible thing to write.  Especially if it actually challenges the one who is trying to write it to recognize his own need for repentance. 

I think one of the greatest barriers to my own growth as a Christian is the lack of depth in repentance.  An experience of the  richness of God's mercy, and the joy that I know it brings, seems to me to be tied somehow to the depth of my own repentance.  Inviting Christ to peer deeply into one's soul is a terrifying business.  I think that the first gift given to the prodigal son on his return journey must have been some form of courage.  For cowardice and courage seem to me to be part of the process of repentance: shallow or deep. 

A shallow repentance merely looks at the outward life.  It is the kind of repentance which is necessary and obvious to all who follow any kind of moral code.  It is an exercise in comparative law:  I have offended against this, or against that.  A deeper repentance takes a spade and a pick, and digs deep into the core of who one is before God and one's fellow human beings.  It uncovers the underworld caverns in the soul which are too often covered above with green turf.  It is difficult work, not least because I would rather not dig;  I would be content with a shallow repentance.  And at a certain point I am incapable of digging further.  I grow weary of it.  Yet there is a strange grace by which Christ leads us on our own journey into the underworld, like Dante traversing the Inferno.  We are called to see the true shape of our sins and the roots of our sinfulness, deep below the surface.  It seems to me to be the place where our desire for a deeper repentance cannot be matched by our own ability to accomplish it.  I think John Donne has shown us something of what this place is.

It is the place where the gates of hell do not prevail, and it is never of our own doing.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town to'another due,
Labor to'admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly'I love you, and would be lov'd fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
Divorce me,'untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you'enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

John Donne, Holy Sonnet XIV

Comments

[David]

Wonderful poem.

I know I have little interest in that sort of digging, although I might have just enough to allow God to have a go. Matches all our (well, my) Christian experience, does it not?

When something has to change, God works to make it happen, sometimes (oh, alright, usually) even when I don't want the change - and I definitely don't want him to interfere.

[Leslie]

>>I think one of the greatest barriers to my own growth as a Christian is the lack of depth in repentance.

This is something I relate to very strongly. For me, I find when I reflect on myself with the intent of repenting, it always comes out superficially...it is when I catch a glimpse or renewed sense of the God's holiness that genuine repentance follows. The trouble is God seems to control when he lets loose those glimpses. I can't conjure them up when I wish to be more penitent. So then my latest wondering is whether or not my quest for depth of repentance and in particular the feeling of profound "rightness" that comes with it is similar to that quest for the buzz of emotional worship that many seek.

Which, is a thought I don't really know what to do with other than sit back a ways from it and mull it over.

[joseph]

There are very few things that really matter.

This is one of them.

[anthony]

the last aria of the first act of doctor atomic, uses this as a text. the opera is based on oppenhiemer, and their is so much thunder, and humility, and anger, and devotion, it was one of the most profound spirtual moments i have had this year.

and you are right about the humility that it takes to ask forgiveness, to be human is to lose self i think

[Andy]

Hi Leslie:

I share with you an inability to be really serious about repenting. I assume this is what you mean when you talk about the "lack of depth in repentance." Now, I don't feel so guilty since there are at least two of us!

My view is that this is part of an innate arrogance (at least on my part) about how "right" I am in dealing with various issues. It is very difficult for me to admit that I may be wrong. I recognize this and try to deal with it. I guess this is all part of our spiritual journey.

Any of this sound familiar, Leslie?

[Leslie]

I suppose it does Andy.
Only perhaps I'd say I'm grappling with it at the cellular level these days.