The Meaning of Repentance

Homily for Wednesday, March 2, 2022

Ash Wednesday
Joel 2:1–2, 12–17

Long-time Episcopalians may remember the following words:

We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness which we from time to time most grievously have committed against thy divine Majesty, provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us. We do earnestly repent, and are heartily sorry… the remembrance of [these our misdoings] is grievous unto us, the burden of them intolerable. Have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us, most merciful Father.

Does anybody remember where these words come from…? These words, nearly 500 years old, come from the Confession of Sin in the Prayer Book’s Rite 1 liturgy.

The piety these words express is different from the piety of our current Confession. In this older piety, God is a “divine Majesty” against whom we commit “manifold sins and wickedness,” and whose “wrath and indignation” we “provoke.” In this piety we not merely acknowledge but “bewail” our sins, and “the remembrance of [these our misdoings] is grievous unto us.” Piety is a matter of focus, and the piety of the Rite 1 Confession, while all of it may be “true”—we are sinners, God is divine and is often said to be a “Majesty,” we sometimes do feel guilt such that “the burden of [these our misdoings] is intolerable to us”—the piety these words express is from the 16th century, and to many ears today these words describe a relationship with God we do not wish to have, a relationship in which God is a king and we are petitioners who would grovel before him. To many, the piety of this old rite is oppressive and not at all life-giving.

At first glance, tonight’s reading from The Book of the Prophet Joel might seem to support the piety of the Rite 1 Confession…

God is a fearful divine Majesty:

Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble… [Joel writes]
the day of the Lord is coming…

The people “acknowledge and bewail”:

Blow the trumpet in Zion;
sanctify a fast…
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning…

Perhaps afraid of God’s wrath and indignation, the people say (in effect), “Have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us.”

Let the priests, the ministers of the LORD, weep [Joel writes].
Let them say, "Spare your people, O LORD.”

At first glance, tonight’s reading from Joel might seem to reinforce the seemingly oppressive piety of the Rite 1 Confession. But piety is a matter of focus. And rather than focusing in Joel on the people’s trembling, or on their weeping and mourning, or on the priests saying, “Spare your people, Lord,” I wonder if we might look rather at Joel in its entirety to see what may be a more whole vision of repentance, a vision in which repentance is not so much a groveling before a divine Majesty, but rather is a resource to help us lead more rich and satisfying lives even as we are in a world where much is broken and fallen.

For the hearers of the book of Joel, it was an apocalypse, the end of the world as they knew it. A vast horde of locusts had invaded the land and devoured the crops. Joel writes,

The fields are devastated,
the ground mourns;
for the grain is destroyed…
the crops of the field are ruined.

Further, in addition to the locusts, there was a drought:

For fire has devoured
the pastures of the wilderness…
the watercourses are dried up…

In response to this “apocalypse,” the prophet urges the people to repent. In words we hear in today’s reading:

Blow the trumpet in Zion;
sanctify a fast…
Who knows whether [the Lord] will not turn and relent,
and leave a blessing behind.

In Joel God did relent and leave a blessing, sending not only grain, wine and oil (2:19), but also God’s spirit. In words the book of Acts quotes at Pentecost, Joel writes,

Then afterward
I will pour out my spirit on all flesh;
your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
your old men shall dream dreams,
and your young men shall see visions.

Here, then, is a more complete vision of what “repentance” might mean for Joel: in the face of circumstances they could not change—a horde of locusts and a drought—the people’s recourse was to open themselves to change, to “repent” and turn toward God. Who always—always!—when we turn, hears and pours out God’s spirit to heal and make whole. I’ll say that again. “Repentance” for Joel might mean not so much being a suppliant before a “divine Majesty,” but in the face of circumstances they could not change, to open themselves to being changed, to “repent” and turn toward God. Who always when we turn, hears and pours out God’s Spirit to heal and make whole.

Given the pandemic, given looming environmental catastrophe; and given wars, famines, floods, droughts, and our starkly-divided country and government, it may feel as though we live in an apocalypse; there is much beyond our control that we cannot change. But what we can do is to open ourselves to being changed. We can “repent” and strive to turn our lives ever more toward God.

Shortly the Litany of Penitence will suggest concrete things we can do, if we would open ourselves to being changed. Things like: “forgiving others as we have been forgiven”; managing “our anger at our own frustrations, and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves”; and not neglecting our “prayer and worship.” I hope that when we go home this evening, and in the weeks to come, we will remember this Litany and tonight’s liturgy, for they hold “seeds of change.” Seeds that, as we take them—from tonight’s readings, tonight’s prayers, and from the Eucharist we are about to receive—and nurture and care for them, will help us grow ever more toward God, who always—always!—when we turn, hears our prayers and pours out God’s Spirit to heal and make whole.