Friday, March 13, 2026

 

Hos 14:1-9; Ps 81; Mk 12:28-34

Can I be so honest with you today? Christian repentance, as it is generally spoken of and practiced, often sucks. There’s something about the way we’ve overlaid a twisted version of grace over  the cross, that has resulted in a version of repentance that dodges accountability. From high-profile serial abusers making a show of carrying Bibles as they attempt to argue themselves out of the consequences of their own actions; to systemic societal issues where we offer an apology for genocidal residential schools while we dodge our treaty obligations; to the way we frame forgiveness when navigating harm in our own relationships… something in our approach to repentance seems to be out of step with the person and work of Jesus.

There’s a litany of factors that have led us to this place, but as this isn’t a 6000-word essay (you’re welcome, or I’m sorry, as the case may be), I’ll choose one focus: we’ve thrown out the Jewish baby with the Jesus-bathwater. We read well-known words about the greatest commandments — loving God and neighbour — and forget Jesus discussing the Jewish Law with his own Jewish community. 

The lectionary places this gospel passage within the context of repentance: In the NRSV, Psalm 81 is titled “God’s Appeal to Stubborn Israel” and Hosea 14 is similarly presented as “A Plea for Repentance" and “Assurance of Forgiveness.” So when considering these passages, we will get a richer understanding when we re-place them within the context of Jewish laws on repentance: When a person sinned against their neighbour, in addition to the necessary sin offerings made at the temple for God, the law required restitution be paid.

I think this is why Christian repentance so often misses the mark: We have forgotten the restitution part, and often act like a simple “forgive us our sins” and a partaking of the Holy Eucharist is all we need to do. We count on the atonement of the cross to reconcile us to God, and forget that he calls us to do the work to be reconciled with our neighbours. 

And God is deeply concerned about intra-community repair, particularly when our actions partner with worldly power and harm the vulnerable and marginalized. Our passage in Hosea reads, in part:

Assyria shall not save us;

    we will not ride upon horses;

we will say no more, “Our God”,

    to the work of our hands.

In you the orphan finds mercy…

For the ways of the Lord are right,

    and the upright walk in them,

    but transgressors stumble in them.

We tend to read passages like these and subconsciously think, “Phew, thank God the orphan finds mercy in him” and leave it there. It’s easy to miss that Hosea admonishes us to actually leave the horses and the gods of power we’ve created with our hands, and do the work of actually walking (or uh, in the case of us wheelchair-users, wheeling) along the path of righteousness (which is almost always associated with caring for the marginalized). This same sentiment repeats in our Psalm passage: “O that my people would listen to me, that Israel would walk in my ways!” I fear we too often are the stumbling transgressors in Hosea, stopping in the middle of the road to offer prayers of confession, and park ourselves there permanently. 

I could end this reflection here—a reminder that I have to DO the work of repentance, restitution, and repair is already a challenging sandwich to chew on. So if you’re short on time, you’ve got my full blessing to do so (not that you need it; I’m not your mother!) But I’m not sure we, culturally and individually, know how to do the repair part of repentance.

The Autistic in me loves a good, specific process (especially in a list), and the best overall resource I’ve found for putting repentance into action is Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg’s book, On Repentance and Repair. Since I started this off thinking about how we may have inadvertently thrown out the Jewishness of Jesus, it seems right to learn from Rabbi Ruttenberg. After all, Jesus isn’t talking about replacing the law or abolishing Jewish cultural practices in our gospel reading; Rather, in his “greatest commandments,” he summarizes, pointing out the law’s purpose is the right relationship with God and with each other. Rabbi Ruttenberg presents this work on repentance from her Jewish perspective, but intentionally offered for anyone and everyone. I know of multiple people who have read this book as a study for the Lenten season, and I genuinely can’t think of a more appropriate book for this time.

In her excellent book, Ruttenberg outlines five important steps for repentance and repair:

Naming and Owning Harm
This seems like an easy first step, but often our tendency is to downplay our actions, insinuating that those we hurt are exaggerating. Or we protest that our intentions were always good. None of that displays a willingness to face the harm we caused, or centres the victims. The goal here isn’t an apology—we’re not ready for that yet—but rather first doing the work to truly  comprehend how we have hurt others. “And then that harm must be named, owned, in as public as is warranted”, Ruttenberg writes. 

Starting to Change 
This is about intentionally taking steps to address the roots of our sin—our problematic traits, unhealed trauma, ignorance on certain issues. Ruttenberg notes this could involve therapy, rehab, educating ourselves, or seeking fresh perspectives.

Restitution and Accepting Consequences 
Step 3 is about addressing the actual harm done, and is explicitly victim centered. Examples could be replacing physical things that were stolen or damaged, or paying for their therapy for the emotional harm we caused. If reparation to an individual isn’t possible, we might instead donate time or money to an appropriate charity. Either way, we must humbly accept the full consequences of our actions—like no longer being welcome in certain places or with people we harmed. Ruttenberg notes that submitting to the legal system or the discipline of a faith-based organization may be part of this, and she rightly condemns any attempt to weasel out on technicalities or push for the lightest sentences.
 

Apology
Our impulse is often to start with an apology, but this is toward the end  because rushing out generic apologies to soften our own feelings of guilt or check boxes (no matter how much we might love a specific list) generally only increases the harm to the victim. “The focus is the mental and the emotional state of the victim”. It requires our vulnerability, deep humility, empathic listening, and “a sincere offering of regret and sorrow for one’s actions.” 

Making Different Choices
We can only make different choices when we have done the previous deep work. I deeply believe in grace, prayer, the Eucharist, and the miraculous power of Christ. But I also believe we have to make the choice to eschew “riding upon horses” and engaging in displays of power. We have to make intentional choices to walk in the “upright paths”, to love our neighbours as an action—not simply a sentiment. Prayer and the holy Eucharist are these to strengthen us on this journey to holy transformation, not sacred shortcuts. 

I see so many beautiful opportunities for the grace of the Gospel woven throughout the challenging and costly actions we’re called to undertake. The grace on offer through Christ’s death and resurrection doesn’t mean we can neglect the difficult but necessary work of repentance and repair. It does, however, remain alongside us as we do it. Loving God with our whole heart, mind, and strength requires us to love our neighbour. Doing the difficult work of repair within and beyond our communities brings us ever closer to the kingdom of God. And goodness, I think our world really needs that.

Alyssa Visscher

 

 

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