Places Of Repentance

I was blind, now I see.—John 9:25

Reflections
There is a terror connected with blindness. I suspected it first as a child when perspiration beaded my brow as I snuggled under covers, scared of the dark. We confirm its panic as adults when the electricity fails and we scramble for candles and flashlights to steer us back to familiar shapes and objects. We learn at these times that we are shattered pieces of confidence, easily disoriented, frightened, and eager to claim the security of light.

Given those inclinations, it is hard to believe that anyone would choose the bewildering darkness of being blind. Scripture says some do. "They loved darkness rather than light, for everyone who does evil hates the light" (John 3:19, 20).

The Bible talks about a spiritual blindness every bit as real as the physical kind and infinitely worse in its consequences. The ultimate tragedy of spiritual blindness is that a person resists self-knowledge and prefers faking it. Concealment, pretense, and dissimulation become choice, habit, and lifestyle.

This is how it is when we become entangled in evil or sin: we are no longer moved by the things that once caused us remorse, we are unable to be self-critical, we become less and less aware of our culpability, and we judge ourselves among the upper echelons of those saved and justified who do not need repentance. We strain to have it both ways—continuing in our sin and claiming wholeness—but sin governs us, and we live fraudulently. John put it bluntly: "If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie" (1 John 1:6).

Fortunately, scripture not only diagnoses the malady but also proposes a cure for spiritual blindness. We are counseled to confess our sins. The choice for John was simple: admit your sinfulness and face reality, or deny your sinfulness and avoid reality. Our hope lies with the truth because "if we acknowledge our sins, then God who is faithful and just will forgive our sins" (1 John 1:9).

John encouraged what psychiatrists would call a grounding in reality. To live that way is to know oneself, especially to know oneself as a sinner and, most especially, as a forgiven sinner. The inner honesty that allows us to say "I have sinned" un-jams the understanding, helps us recognize the truth about ourselves, frees us from the albatross of deceit, opens new options, and enables us to accept the fact that a realignment of our loyalties is going to involve a restructuring that will be painful. John called this accepting the Word (John 1:12) and coming out into the light.

For all its benefits, coming out into the light has never been a popular choice. There are two good reasons why this has been so. The first has to do with our reluctance to see ourselves honestly and our fear that once the undiluted vision is provided, we would be unable to bear the sight. In spite of the lip service we pay to telling it like it is, the fear of being unmasked and exposed sends chills down the spines of most of us. We temporize, create excuses, decide that guilt is pathological, admit to sins for which we are not culpable (and thus require no repentance), and delay the inevitable confrontation with God and ourselves.

We fear this stripping away and the discovery of ourselves as sinners because of what God will say or do to us when our cover is blown. And this is curious, if not irrational, since the fear usually assaults us at a time when we have no relationship with God whatsoever, let alone one that could cause a trauma.

But when we confess our sins and identify with our best selves, a sense of peace follows, not as the fruit of our own doing, but as a gift of God. This explains why repentance is never a morbid preoccupation with sin or an exercise in self-deprecation. In the act of repentance the ground shifts: the emphasis is not on us and our sins but on the gracious, saving, prodigal love of God.

The second reason we squint our eyes at the light and retreat to our dark inner caves has to do with an attitude present among our brother and sister Christians at church. Many of our church communities do not know what to do with sinners in their midst except to express shock and indignation, and to drum the scoundrels out of the corps. To acknowledge oneself as a sinner, then, often becomes a lonely, difficult, uncomfortable process with a most uncertain outcome and future. In Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer laments:

The final breakthrough to fellowship does not occur because, though they have fellowship with one another us believers and as devout people, they do not have fellowship as the undevout, as sinners. The pious fellowship permits no one to be a sinner. So everybody must conceal his [or her] sin from himself [or herself] and from the fellowship. We dare not be sinners. Many Christians are unthinkably horrified when a real sinner is suddenly discovered among the righteous. So we remain alone with our sin, living in lies and hypocrisy.

Bonhoeffer knew what he was talking about. The religious communities of which we are a part must bear the responsibility of not only being places where repentance is preached, but also places where forgiveness is lived. We will never be credible to ourselves, most importantly, or to anyone else, unless this is so.

I would be greatly heartened in this regard if church groups identified themselves less as churches of "saints" and as communities of "holiness" and "perfection," and more as fellowships of forgiven sinners. My guess is that a more transparent Christian discipleship would come into being as a result, and we would not be liable under truth-in-advertising regulations for misrepresenting the facts.

In such communities, we would be able to confess without fear. The atmosphere surrounding repentance would not be judgmental, critical, angry, arrogant, intemperate, haughty, or domineering, but always loving and compassionate. It would be clear that we are all in the same boat—at the same time sinful and holy, specifically and not generically. The Spirit of Truth is alone responsible for the degree of candor needed for communities of forgiven sinners to exist.

I am often caught off guard by those who claim they are leading a spiritual life. From where I stand, it seems that it is always the Holy Spirit doing the leading. This is never more apparent than in the experience of repentance, when we are led across deserts, through the tangle of guilt, into the darkest rooms in our hearts. Once there, and for the asking, the Spirit enlightens us concerning our real sins, mediates unconditional pardon, and transforms us into the light we behold.

Introspection
An examination of conscience is a way to hold ourselves accountable before God and each other for the evil we do and the good we do not do. Some refer to it as an examination of consciousness: scanning our motives, thoughts, and actions to detect our loyalty to or betrayal of the priorities of the kingdom.

The delicate and difficult part in this process involves what we hold as our guide for accountability. For centuries the blueprint for good conduct was the list of Ten Commandments, until Jesus proposed a very different set of guidelines with the beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-13). As early as A.D. 150 in a document written by the Shepherd of Hermas, the beatitudes were accepted as the positive norm of morality for Christians, stressing the ideals of their founder and avoiding the "do nots" of the decalogue.

What follows is an examination of conscience and consciousness based on the beatitudes. It makes sense only if we truly believe that the teachings of Jesus have practical applicability in the world in which each of us lives and breathes. If we admit that relevance, we will find enough power in our fidelity to these counsels to renew the face of the earth.

1. "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Do I fear being poor, in spirit or otherwise, and prefer to be rich in brains, money, or influence? Is my desire for poverty of spirit congruent with my lifestyle? Do I use the word of God to rationalize my lifestyle, or am I willing to have God's word criticize it? Do I cling to my own ideas, opinions, and judgments sometimes to the point of idolatry?
    
2. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." Do I grieve over loneliness, despair, guilt, and rejection in the lives of others? Am I willing to admit my own despondencies and need for comfort? Do I minister consolation and healing, or do I encourage people to have courage, thereby avoiding the opportunity to mourn with another?
    
3. "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth." Do I see any value in meekness, or do I cringe at the thought of being so regarded? Do I understand meekness as the way to fight evil with good, and do I choose to live that way? How much are intimidation and force part of my lifestyle and of those around me? Do I instill competition in my children?
    
4. "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall he satisfied." Have I kept myself ignorant of important current events that impinge on the misuse of justice? Are my energies and passions focused on Christ, or are they scattered, disordered, divided? Have I decided that I will not be satisfied until justice is fulfilled in my own life, within my family, my church, my community, my world?
    
5. "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." Do I operate on a double standard of expecting mercy but not wanting to grant it? Do I prefer the strict law and order approach, or that of mercy, tenderness, and compassion? Are there places in my life where people are suffering because of me and my unforgiving attitude?
    
6. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Am I trusting and trustful? Do I value living without pretense, or am I constantly fearful that someone will take advantage of me? Am I open and honest about who I am and what I do? Do I deflect the attention and honor due to God and claim these things for myself?
    
7. "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God." Am I eager for reconciliation, or do I antagonize and yearn for revenge? Do I think apologizing is a sign of weakness? Am I willing to be a bridge in family and community arguments? Do I support violence in films, television, or sports?
    
8. "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account." Who are my heroes? Are there any among them who gave their lives without vengeance for what is true? Would I be willing to do the same? Do I worship security and fear costly discipleship?
    
9. "Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven." Do I live confident of the promises of Jesus? Do I surrender to pessimism and anxiety or do I perceive that there is a paradoxical victory in the cross of Jesus that breaks through power structures and conquers in peace and love?

When this article appeared, Doris Donnelly was an associate professor of pastoral theology and spirituality at St. John's University in New York City and a visiting lecturer at Princeton Theological Seminary.