Theological truth: To repent is to follow Jesus’ alternative way of self-giving compassion for the life of the world.
In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Tara Brach tells the story of a powerful samurai warrior who seeks out a wise and holy monk and demands, “Teach me about heaven and hell!” The humble monk replies with surprising and total disdain: “Teach you about heaven and hell? I couldn’t teach you anything. You disgust me. You’re a dumb, dirty disgrace to the samurai class. You’re weak, undisciplined and lazy.” The samurai turns red with rage, draws his sword and prepares to strike down the monk. Just before the fatal blow lands, the monk lifts his hand and calmly replies, “That’s hell.”
That’s not the end of the story, but it’s a good place to stop and reflect. This characterizes the hell we are living in…now and all too often. It’s the hell of demanding our way, on our terms, and within our timetable. And there’s hell to pay for whomever and whatever gets in the way of what we expect, or desire, or feel is our God-given right. Give me what I want or else. Give me the world or my country as I think it should be (which is all too often just an extension of my own preferences and prejudices) or I’ll take it by force, or with masked agents, or by suspending due process and constitutional rights. That’s the hell threatening to kill us all. Dr. King was right. We had better learn to live together as siblings or we’re going to perish together as fools.
The end of the story about the monk and the samurai shows us a yet more glorious, heavenly way. When the samurai realizes the depth of the monk’s compassion and how he risked his life to help him, he drops his sword and falls to his knees in humbled, silent gratitude. The wise monk then replies, “And this is heaven.”
The samurai experiences a different way of seeing and being in the world. A new path appears—one characterized by kindness and compassion. This is repentance. This is the kingdom of heaven come near.
Jesus and John the Baptist both call us to live into the alternative ways of God’s kingdom. Notice that when Jesus learns of John’s arrest, he picks up right where John left off, proclaiming with the exact same words, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Or to paraphrase, “Continue returning to a different way of living, a different paradigm of power, one based on the self-giving, loving-kindness and compassion of God.” Jesus calls Peter and Andrew, James and John, to more than a righteous cause or a political objective — although that naturally follows suit. But first and foremost, the call is to follow Jesus into this way of selfless love. Or as Richard Rohr puts it, “To suffer the fate of God for the life of the world.”
Jesus calls us to this way of living and loving still. It’s the way that does justice and loves kindness, while walking humbly with God. This particular and peculiar way of love looks out especially for the last, the lost, and the least; the orphans and widows and strangers in the land. But “how” we love is equally important as “what” or “who” we love. And both challenge our calling as followers of Jesus today. Do any of us really think it’s ok to ignore due process, assume people are guilty rather than innocent or suspicious because of their skin color or accent? Do we really want to live in a world where might makes right and power goes unchecked? Jesus calls us to continuously repent of this worldview and to follow him on a different path: the way of the cross; the way of giving up ourselves for the life of the world.
What a week it’s been. We started on Monday by reading The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail. The wisdom of his words and the conviction of his faith still speak powerfully of what our calling to follow Jesus requires of us today—not only what we are to care about, but how we are to go about it. In the letter, he explains their process, “In any nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps: collection of the facts to determine whether injustices exist; negotiation; self-purification; and direct action.”
Journalist John Kuo points out that, “While most people understand what Dr. King meant by collection of the facts and negotiation with the government, ‘self-purification’ in advance of direct action requires some unpacking.” He writes, “It means doing the hard work of learning how to face violence with nonviolence, humiliation with dignity. It is inner work that is challenging, counterintuitive and, in the end, liberating.” (The Status Kuo, 1/19/26).
This is the work required of those who have changed their mind and turned away from the world’s paradigms of power and have chosen to follow Jesus’ way of self-offering and sacrificial love. This is walking the way of the cross; sharing the fate of God for the life of the world. And through it, the transformative, liberating power of God’s love is released.
John Kuo experienced it himself. He says, “The first time I was assaulted in a protest was in 1991 when then-Gov. Pete Wilson of California vetoed workplace housing nondiscrimination protections for LGBTQ+ people in the state. I was holding a sign and, along with dozens of other protesters, we disrupted a speech he was delivering at Stanford. A member of the audience—a young white man with a nearly shaved head—approached me and spit directly in my face.”
“I remember two distinct things from that moment. First, a sense of power welled up inside my body that could either fuel me to strike him … or to continue my protest. With his spit dripping down my face, but my own dignity and conviction in the righteousness of our cause more secure than ever, I chose the latter.”
He continues, “The second thing I remember was an older white woman, dressed very nicely and seated near us in the audience, who gasped in horror. ‘Ohhhh!’ she cried out. Then a beat. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, compassion and concern evident on her face. I wiped the spittle off, watched the assailant stride away from me, and assured her that I was. A woman I didn’t know saw for herself the kind of hate we were up against. I’ve never forgotten that connection we made in that moment, and I doubt she ever did either.” (Ibid)
And that is heaven. It’s closer than we think. How much longer will we walk in the darkness of sin, suspicion and separation? There’s another way, a better way, a way characterized by peace and passion; made up of equal parts conviction, courage and kindness. This is the love that conquers hate, the compassion that melts our hearts of stone. To this alternative way, Jesus still calls us, “Come, follow me.”
