Texts: Genesis 12:1-4a; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; Romans 3:1-17
If ever we wanted an illustration of the power of repentance we surely saw it in the remarkable events in Canberra this week, and, in fact, throughout Australia. No doubt, there are a few cynics around who will dismiss that "saying-sorry" ceremony as pure political theatre, but that's not how those huge crowds we saw on the TV News felt about it. Something historic, something of fundamental importance to all the people of that country, was taking place, and hardly a man, woman or child was unaffected by it.
It was as if the whole dominant class in Australia was collectively repenting – not just acknowledging the specific wrongs of the past, - but changing their mindset. They were turning away from their past attitude to adopt a new one. They were rejecting the idea of one type of humanity – their own – being superior to another, the Aborigine peoples. Perhaps they are not yet ready to go a step further to acknowledge that there is, in fact, only one type of human being, but it was certainly a huge step that they took this week. No doubt difficult times lie ahead as they work through the implications of this dramatic act of national repentance, but at least now they are facing in the right direction.
And that's really what repentance is – a turning to face in the right direction. It's not only Dick Whittington – and the Australian people! – who need to turn again and again – it is all of us. All of us can become distracted – all of us can find new things to look at in place of God – all of us are capable of building our own golden calves and worshipping them instead of God. Where do we look to for our fundamental sense of security, and for our hope for a better future? To our families, to our careers, to our own hard work, to our country? All of those are good in themselves, but all of them can become alternatives to God. When they do it is time for repentance – for turning back to God.
We saw another example of turning back a little closer to home this week, when one of our local M.P.'s announced she was quitting Parliament at the next election. It was time for her, she had decided, to turn back to her family and leave behind, at least for now, her all-consuming political career. That sort of radical re-prioritising is a form of non-religious repentance; it is not a confession of past wrongdoing but a radical break from the past and present to open up a new future. Perhaps one day we will hear of an M.P. who is quitting Parliament to spend more time with God. Wouldn't that be something! Wouldn't that cause a sensation!
I imagine that Abram's radical decision caused something similar among his people. He was well on in years – perhaps even a bit older than me. He had a large extended family. His father had died and he was now the patriarch of the clan. They were well off, with many livestock, living a comfortable existence, not in Ur as we're often told, but in a place called Haran, to which Abram's father had brought the family some years earlier. [Genesis 11:31]
That probable doesn't matter too much either way. The point is that there is nothing in the text so far to tell us whether or not Abram or the family were religious – or were even aware of God before his call. There is no suggestion in the text, for example, that God had called Abram's father, Terah, to leave Ur – the decision seems to have been his own.
But nor is there any suggestion that Abram had previously been a wicked man, leading an irreligious life. Rather, we may assume that he was a fine, upright, middle-class family man, well-off and comfortable – inwardly sad that he had no son of his own – but otherwise untroubled.
Then God spoke to him. God told him to give up all sense of security based on familiarity – leave his own country, his home, the land of his fathers – and journey to a new land. If he will do that, God promises to make him into a great nation. I wander if we can grasp how crazy it must have seemed to everyone else besides Abram – or perhaps even to Abram himself when he first heard it. Who is this God he claims to have heard? It's not uncommon for older people to hear voices. Perhaps he's beginning to lose the plot? Why risk it? What if it is all a silly delusion? Where is this new land – what's it like? Does it even exist?
And yet, says, our text, "Abram left, as the Lord had told him". At one level, of course, this is all about obedience. But when we look at St Paul's reflections on this episode in his Letter to the Romans, we can see that it is something much more than that. St Paul makes much of the fact that all this took place before the Law was given. He says that where there is no law there is no transgression. In other words, there is no issue of disobedience.
And this is surely right. Look again at this short passage from Genesis and we see that there is no threat of consequence if Abram declines to go. God does not threaten to strike him down, or take away his livestock, or hurl a few plagues in his direction. If he declines to leave, then he stays and his life goes on as before. There is no stick, but there is a great carrot! Go, and you will be made into a great nation. Go, and you will be richly blessed. Go, and your name will be great. Go, and all peoples on the earth will be blessed through you.
That's some remuneration package he's been offered there! But you know what they say, if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. What trust could be put in such huge promises? What trust could be put in the One who was making them? That was the question for Abram to consider. He was not being told what to do and threatened with harm if he disobeyed. He was being told what to do and assured of great blessing if he did. His response, his decision to leave as the Lord had told him, was one of trust in God, much more than it was a simple act of obedience.
He turned from his past to face a brand new future. He turned from all worldly considerations and opened himself to God. That's repentance – real, radical, life-changing repentance.
Something similar is put before Nicodemus in his encounter with Jesus in our gospel passage. Again, we are dealing here with a fundamentally good man. A faithful Jewish leader, a teacher of the faith. He must have heard of Jesus, or even heard Jesus himself, somewhere and formed a respectful opinion of him. He seeks him out, and he addresses him with the courtesy title of Rabbi, even though he must have known that under Jewish law and custom Jesus was not qualified as a rabbi. Probably he is genuinely interested in finding out more about Jesus. He knows of Jesus' reputation for extraordinary miracles, and perhaps he is intrigued by this. How does Jesus do them? Or, perhaps, he really does accept them as evidence that Jesus must have a special relationship with God.
But before he can ask his first question, Jesus takes over the conversation. He turns the focus away from him and back to Nicodemus. No one can understand the ways of God unless they are first born again. He catches Nicodemus completely off-guard, causes him to make a bit of a fool of himself. Of course, Jesus is not talking about a second biological birth.
Then what is he talking about? He is talking about that radical re-orientation of life that we have been calling repentance. That turning to God in openness, that turning away from false certainty, even false certainty based on the painstaking study of the Scriptures that Nicodemus would have been doing for years, and simply trusting God to lead us in his ways. That is not something we can achieve by our own efforts. That requires the gift of grace, that requires the gift of the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, Jesus says, but the Spirit gives birth to Spirit.
That whole encounter must have shaken Nicodemus to the roots of his being. In his own way he was being challenged as Abram was: could he leave all that he was familiar with in his learning, could he risk his position in the community, and walk a new path, following this mysterious man who seems in some new way to have come from God? In the end, he seems to have made that leap of faith, for it was he who helped Joseph of Arimethea to bury Jesus. (John 19:39)
Radical repentance – a radical change of direction – for Australia, for Katherine Rich, for Abram, for Nicodemus. May it be for us also as we continue our journey through Lent. Amen.
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