Benedicamus Domino!
Throughout my time as a Christian, I have often heard that I should "repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand." This particular phrase is most memorably spoken by John the Baptist as he is telling the multitudes at the river Jordan about the coming of Christ. As he gives his description of who Christ is, there is a fiery note to his words. In fact, he states that while he himself baptizes "with water, (Christ) will baptize with The Holy Ghost and with fire." He also describes Christ as one with a winnowing fan, who will separate the wheat from the chaff in his threshing floor and "will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire." (I take this from the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 3.)
I have always loved and feared this passage. I have loved it for John's intensity and boldness, but I have feared it because repentance has seemed to me to be something which I must do to avoid wrath. For me, baptism with the Holy Ghost was what I called 'the good kind,' and baptism with fire was 'the bad kind,' the kind that happened when one didn't repent. I connected the unrepentant with the chaff and the repentant with the wheat. There is no doubt that this is some of the meaning, but if it is the whole meaning, then we are of all men most miserable, because it is very hard to truly repent.
Of course, it depends on what we mean by repentance. The meaning of the Greek word used in this passage is 'a changing of the heart' or 'a turning around.' There has, however, been a history of equating repentance with feeling guilty and being in a continual state of sorrow for our sins. God becomes this large and all-seeing eye to whom we must continually say 'sorry' in order that he will not smite us with some imaginable horror either in this life or in the next. If a person has grown up with this sort of idea being taught to them, then it's no wonder to me that they might not find anything beneficial in the Christianity that they have inherited. We have a responsibility to know our faith and to teach it as wholly as we can to those who come after.
However, I digress. While it is true that there must be remorse and contrition involved in repentance, I don't think that this is as important as the act of turning, the act of rejecting the old way in favour of the new. Remorse and contrition may not be the first things to come, but the knowledge that one needs to turn must be there. Yet what is it we're turning from? Those who have read this blog will know the answer by now: the ego! This is what has been called 'the old man' in Church thought. It is this puppet or idol which needs to be tamed and ultimately killed via repentance. Only then can the true self, 'the new man,' come through and rule over our lives and our souls.
So then, if we reject the ego, what then are we embracing? Are we turning to a fearful and dread judge? Are we being welcomed by our Father to whom we have been prodigal? Are we seeking to appease a thundering and terrible god whose caprices will one day strike us down if we're not careful? Well, God forbid the last should be true! Still, God is not like us. He is more than we are, and He does appear dreadful to us in our current egocentric state. Even His charity and mercy are awesome to think about!
And then there's Christ the winnower. Does He only winnow the repentant from among the unrepentant? Is His threshing floor only the world out there? No. Christ's threshing floor is every person's heart, and His fan is in His hand so that He can winnow the useless and unproductive chaff from the nourishing and neutricious wheat. So, the fire of His love is necessary. We must be tried as gold is tried, tempered as a good sword is tempered, to make the gold purer and the steel stronger, and there is a part of the human being that is joyful at this. It wants to be freed from the chains of the ego, and freedom is only found through allowing Christ to work in us.
Simple guilt is a form of pride. It says that we are sorry for something, but it is paralyzing. We begin to hold onto it and to wear it like a badge of honour, when all we're really doing is acting the part of Judas. He was frightened and guilty at what he had done by betraying Christ. He even gave the blood money back to the priests, but he forgot the joy. He forgot, or never knew, the joy and the love of Christ. If he had known it, he could have repented as Peter did for denying Christ three times. Peter knew Christ for who He was, and for him, faith, hope and love were stronger than guilt, and he was able to turn guilt into true contrition. He wept bitterly, it is true, but only joy could have caused him to run to the sepulchre when the news was told to him that Christ was risen from the dead.
This is why I believe that true penitence is not simply mourning for our sins, but it is a mourning that is tinged with joy, because we know to Whom we are confessing and turning when we repent. We have faith that Christ is merciful and is also willing and able to do the difficult work of changing our hearts, and it is this for which we should be joyful. Walking around with sad faces and eyes continually cast down may seem to be what we are asked to do sometimes, but always after the night comes the morning, and we know that joy comes in the morning. We must have the night and the morning in us at once, both Lent and Easter, death and resurrection. We must know what we turn from and where we are heading. A friend of mine once told me that I should "keep my eye on eternity," and these words have guided me in some very dark times. Knowing that there is an Eternity to which we will be called is something which is both sobering and shiningly-joyful beyond telling; at least it is for me. May we all feel Christ's joy in us, and may that joy be full!
Deo gratias!
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