December 10, 2006 at 10:30
The Ven. Howard Stringfellow III
Baruch 5:1-9 + Philippians 1:3-11 + Luke 3:1-16
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
I am delighted to be with you once again. And on Friday I received the ultimate compliment: Rick asked for another date for me to visit you in the winter. If that isn’t the triumph of hope over experience, I don’t know what is. I am glad to be with you, to be part of your fellowship, whenever it is possible.
Two weeks ago, on the Feast of Christ the King, when Pilate questioned Jesus, I thought about the coming of Christ bringing with it light, perfect, flawless light; and how anyone unable or unwilling to face or to meet that light will instinctively put himself or herself in opposition to it. Opposition to that light, opposition to Christ, cries for repentance.
And last week, when the Gospel spoke of Christ’s return, in power and great glory, I thought about repentance now rather than later, now before Christ returns to be our Judge. I thought about it in terms like these: you and I can face divine judgment now, today: confessing to God our sins, repenting of those sins, and having those sins wiped away by divine forgiveness. If all our wrongs have been removed by daily repentance and forgiveness, there will be nothing left to judge on Judgment Day.
And today, John the Baptist strides across the stage “preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” From Pilate’s encounter with Jesus, to the second coming, to John’s preaching, the Gospel cries for our repentance, repentance which is necessary to stand before him when he comes again.
Repentance, what is it? What is it to us? In St. Luke’s Gospel, the word for repentance is used more than in any other Gospel. For St. Luke, perhaps, the foremost characteristic of Christians is repentance, a word whose Greek root means after-thought, or change, or change in one’s mind or thinking.
What is it about our thinking that needs changing? Simply stated, I think it is our idea that we can do it by ourselves. We are justified before God by our good lives and our good works. We, after all, are ruggedly independent and self-reliant Americans. Our lack of needing help lies deep in our national consciousness. We think we know what we and the world need to do. We are pretty good people because we obey the commandments. We aren’t as bad as those sinners who stand somewhere beyond the tip of my pointing finger. And, if we should find we are coming up short in some of areas, we might reflect on our misdeeds only to discover ways that we can stop doing the bad things and start doing good things. We ourselves can change ourselves through self-help, self-actualization, and self-direction.
The problem with this type of repentance is that it doesn’t seek outside help. The Savior has no part in it. The mind still thinks, “I can do it by myself.” The mind hasn’t been changed; it hasn’t repented. It has not turned.
I think the reason Jesus had so much trouble with the scribes and the Pharisees was that they were doing pretty well by themselves, or so they thought. They were living, as we are, good, moral, obedient lives before God and neighbor. By contrast, the sinners and tax collectors were quite aware that they didn’t measure up to God’s or even society’s demands. They knew they couldn’t do it by themselves. They needed help. Repentance certainly involves declaring to yourself and to God, “I can’t do it alone.”
Maybe I’m wrong, but along with the scribes and Pharisees’ self-righteousness went the idea that a little, I mean a very little, generosity goes a long way. I don’t think they were big givers. From their questions to Jesus, I’d guess they were minimal givers, the least the law requires. A change of heart, a change of mind, might be just what they need. This is the season, the time, for it.
Your generosity, your adherence to the Consecration Sunday program, and the substantial benefits are becoming legendary through the Diocese. I know this is so, because I have begun to mention both of them every time I visit a parish. You know first hand what it is to make a significant turning, and you are leading the way. But each of us, deep inside, needs to make a turn or two. In fact, I’d say, the road to Bethlehem and the road to Christmas Eve has at least a couple of turns we each need to make in order to celebrate with fullness the Nativity of the Lord, to greet our new-born Savior with humility and with a purity of heart guilelessly to adore him.
Before we let the whirl of the season spin us around and around and around, let us turn to greet him, let us turn our heads to face him, who came once and will come again just to claim us.
As the prophet Baruch wrote, put off sorrow and affliction, and put on the robe of God’s righteousness. We have been called to a new way of living. We have been called to be born again, and again, in ever closer approximation to the Lord. Put off sorrow. Put on the robe of righteousness and obedience. With Baruch, Isaiah, and John encouraging us, why not follow their lead in the way prepared, in the way that leads to life everlasting?
In Christ’s Name. Amen.
