It may not come as any surprise for you to hear… 

that the Australian public’s trust in politicians is declining…

contrary to what has been happening in most other major democracies—

baring, perhaps, the United States.

And it’s been in steady decline since two thousand and seven.

And that’s especially evident among younger people… many of whom ‘came of age’ amid the repeated political coups of a decade ago.

Fewer than forty percent are satisfied with how our democracy functions.

Apparently, the three biggest gripes that people have about politicians are:

that big business has too much power and influence;

that politicians “don’t deal with the issues that really matter”;

and, especially, that “they are not accountable for broken promises”.

Competence and accountability— 

that seems to be what we crave in our leaders…

and in our political system.

And part of that accountability…

surely…

is them also being willing to admit that they made a mistake…

that they got it wrong.

And yet, that’s seldom what we hear from politicians.

One commentator suggests that politicians rarely admit mistakes…

or apologise…

because “their profession rewards the egotistical at the expense [of] self-aware[ness]”.

This is compounded by the fact that many come from a legal background…

and, as such, “By training and temperament, their instinct is to avoid admitting guilt”.

The combative nature of modern politics only reinforces those instincts.

So, if they are ever forced to apologise… 

then it never comes across as sincere or heartfelt.

It never seems real.

And, of course, all of that clashes with our own experience.

After all, in our own lives…

we make mistakes…

we realise that we have hurt others…

and we know that we need to express honest and genuine remorse…

or else we can’t begin to repair the relationship.

 

According to Luke’s Gospel—

in the verses immediately preceding this morning’s reading—

John the Baptist went about proclaiming “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins”.

Repentance—

the author suggests—

was the appropriate way of preparing for the coming of Jesus.

It was a way of acknowledging that their world was screwed up…

and that they shared responsibility for that.

And here, in this morning’s reading, we have the author’s creative fleshing-out of that preaching.

Amid much fire and brimstone…

he has John exhort the crowds, “Bear fruits worthy of repentance”.

In other words, ‘show that you mean it’.

And yet, we don’t find here any exhortation to ‘be genuine’…

or to ‘show remorse’…

or even to apologise.

Instead, the crowd’s response to John’s preaching is: “What then should we do?”

Nowhere does the author place on John the Baptist’s lips…

a demand for sorrow and remorse;

a demand for verbal apologies;

or an admission of guilt or a mea culpa.

Nowhere does the author demand the sort of response that we have been conditioned to expect… 

or even demand.

 

All of which begs the question, ‘What, then, did the author mean by “repentance”’?

 

Well, the Greek word that is translated, here, as “repentance” means— 

quite literally— 

“to change one’s mind”. 

Now, within the world of the first century…

the ‘mind’ was not understood in the same way that it is for us.

They didn’t think of the ‘mind’ as the centre of rational or logical thought.

For them, that was the heart.

Instead, for them, the ‘mind’ was the centre of the volition or the will.

In other words, ‘repentance’ for them—

a ‘change of mind’—

was not, essentially, a feeling of remorse.

Indeed, it was not a feeling at all.

Instead, repentance involved a fundamental change in someone’s will—

a change of motivation;

a change of attitude;

a change of priority.

 

But the will was also understood as that mental faculty that initiated and elicited action.

So a ‘change of mind’—

in this sense—

inescapably involved a fundamental change in one’s behaviour…

and a fundamental change in one’s way of life.

Contrary to our contemporary expectations…

an emotional response, of any sort, was irrelevant.

To adapt a popular saying,

“It’s not what you feel, but what you do, that matters”.

Repentance, in the New Testament…

involves a change of will and a consequent change of behaviour.

 

Even more than that… 

Marcus Borg suggests that the word translated as “repentance” in the New Testament… 

means “to go beyond the mind that we have”. 

In other words, to repent means to transcend our conditioned ways of thinking, responding, and doing. 

It means to put aside our culturally conditioned or enculturated ways of thinking and seeing—

our conventional wisdom…

and our community’s expectations—

so that we might see things anew and afresh… 

and do things differently. 

Thus, as the author constructs the scenario… 

John won’t allow the crowd to take refuge in their spiritual heritage or status.

He’s not concerned about what they think…

or how they feel.

He’s concerned about a change of will and behaviour.

His focus is on orthopraxy, not orthodoxy.

Consequently, in response to the crowd’s question—

“What then should we do?”—

the author has John launch into an extended set of examples of particular, concrete actions…

which were relevant to particular groups.

To the crowd, generally, he says “whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none”.

And yet, the word that he uses in the Greek is not ‘coat’ but ‘tunic’—

that is, the basic, everyday, garment.

In other words, even those who were of very moderate means were to help those who had nothing.

It’s an injunction to practical assistance for the poorest and most needy…

without the expectation of reciprocation…

and without qualification.

The injunctions to the toll-collectors and the soldiers address their practices of extortion.

Such practices were common and even expected…

but they were especially significant for the poor and the marginal…

who largely bore the brunt of them.

In other words… 

the actions that constituted and defined repentance— 

for the author of Luke’s Gospel— 

specifically involve the treatment of the marginalised and the oppressed.

 

In light of that… 

what might this Biblical sense of repentance mean for us, today?

 

If we want to acknowledge that our world is screwed up—

and that we share responsibility for that—

then our repentance means changing the way that we act towards…

and the way that we treat… 

those who are marginalised and oppressed.

And who are they in our society?

The First Nations peoples—

whose mortality rate is far lower than ours…

whose children are still removed in unacceptable numbers…

and who experience discriminations that we wouldn’t stand for;

of course, we can add to that both the Jewish and Muslim communities—

who are subjected to much vilification…

and numerous acts of hatred and violence;

and, of course, we can add asylum seekers—

who continue to be subjected to unspeakable atrocities.

And while I’m sure that none of us are personally involved in perpetrating such things…

neither are we actively involved in correcting them.

And that is precisely the challenge before us.

What might we be doing— 

concretely— 

to elicit change in the treatment of the marginalised and oppressed?

 

As we draw nearer to Christmas…

John the Baptist’s call to repentance reminds us… 

that the only appropriate response to God’s incarnation must be… 

similarly… 

incarnate.