There is a story about a young monk who is experiencing a very turbulent period in his life. Due to these struggles, this young monk begins to doubt his vocation and questions whether God is really calling him to the monastery.  After a few weeks of interior wrestling, both with himself and God, he decides one morning to speak with the monk who has been assigned as his spiritual director.  Shortly after mass, the young monk approaches him and asks him if he has a moment to talk. “Of course, brother,” his spiritual director responds with a gentle smile, “is everything ok?”

With a look of sadness on his face, the young monk begins to open his heart to him. “Father, I don’t think I have a vocation,” he says. “Since I’ve entered the monastery, I realize that I am deeply insecure and afraid. I feel incompetent in work, prayer, and in community life, and therefore I spend most of the day wrestling with insecurity and living in fear because I do not feel able to do what I am supposed to as a monk.”

The young monk paused for a moment to look at his spiritual director, who did not appear shocked or worried about anything the young monk had said so far. Instead, he was listening attentively to the young monk. Affirmed by his spiritual director’s loving presence, the young monk continued, “When I see the monks at work or in choir, I very quickly get jealous of them because they never seem to struggle with anything and always appear happy and at peace. I hate to admit this, but it often leaves me angry inside and frustrated because no matter how hard I try to do everything right; I never seem to do anything correctly. When I reflect on my experience and how all of this makes me feel, I begin to realize that the root of all my struggles is pride, because I don’t want to appear weak, incompetent, or unsure of myself and my vocation.  The truth is Father, I want to be in control of everything and so, I don’t think I’m called to be a monk, given the fact that I have all these problems.”

As soon as the young monk finished speaking, his spiritual director took his eyes off him and gazed upon a crucifix that was hanging almost directly over the young monk. A few moments later he turned to the young monk with a big smile on his face and said to him, “My son, you’re just like everyone else here! The problem is, you didn’t know that before you came to the monastery.”

The younger monk was surprised and shocked at his spiritual director’s response and asked him, “Well, Father, what am I supposed to do then? Is it possible that I can still be a monk with all these problems?”

The spiritual director leaned forward and put his arm on the young monk’s shoulder and said to him, “My son, it is possible, but only if you do one thing repeatedly.” Intrigued, the young monk asked his spiritual director with a great deal of enthusiasm. “What must I do then Father?”

Without any hesitation, the spiritual director responded, “You must repent and turn more deeply towards God.”

Frustrated and somewhat annoyed, the young monk snapped back at him and said, “Haven’t I done that already?”

“Yes, you have,” the spiritual director said, “but in this life, repentance must be continuous, because if we are not turning more deeply towards God every moment of our life, we will turn in on ourselves and quickly become overwhelmed by our weakness and human frailty. It is only through repentance, my son, that we experience the freedom and healing we are all so desperately in need of.”

Some may view the advice of the spiritual director to this young monk as being old-fashioned, a return to a rigid and oppressive form of spirituality that views God as a judge and we as the guilty party. Others may view the advice of the spiritual director as a secret and esoteric way of approaching God and thereby acquiring some special experience and knowledge of God. The truth is, the spiritual director’s admonition to the young monk to repentance is neither old-fashioned nor esoteric. His advice is neither new nor particularly unique. He is merely echoing Jesus in the Gospel.

Jesus begins his public ministry in the Gospel of Mark with these words: “Repent and believe in the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). The Greek word for repentance is “Metanoia,” which literally means a “change of mind.” However, we must not assume that repentance, i.e., metanoia, is merely a mental activity.  A change of mind is meant to lead naturally to a change in our actions, and our life. However, this change in our minds, actions, and life cannot occur unless there is a change in our hearts.

Repentance is aimed at changing and transforming the heart of a person, which is nothing else but one’s very core or their true self.

The word metanoia is used in the New Testament 22 times and always refers to a conversion of one’s entire self–and therefore one’s entire life–to the Lord. In true metanoia, there is always a twofold movement occurring. First, one is turning away from sin. Second, one is turning towards God.[1] This twofold movement that is meant to occur in genuine repentance is important to remember if we wish to have both a complete and adequate understanding of the essential nature of repentance. Repentance is not simply staying out of trouble and avoiding sin (as important as that is), but ultimately repentance means embracing Christ, following him more deeply, and remaining with him. “He who abides in me,” Jesus says, “and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit” (John 15:5). Repentance implies that we are seeking Christ passionately with our whole self.

Even though we might not be living in serious sin–and hopefully we are not–true repentance forces us to ask ourselves this question: am I pursuing Christ seriously and attempting to follow him in every aspect of my life?

For example, a person may go to church on Sunday and be living a good moral life. However, they may not be responding to Jesus’ command to spend time each day in personal prayer (Mt 6:5-6). Since they are not embracing Christ or pursuing him in this very important aspect of Christian discipleship, the most important thing this person can do, both for their own soul and for their life of prayer, is to first repent. What could that look like in such a person’s life? First, such a person must humbly acknowledge to God their own failure to embrace him and seek him in the life of prayer.  Second, they could begin that very moment to spend, even if it is only a few minutes, in prayer. Finally, they could then prayerful discern how they can incorporate time each day in their life for personal prayer. Genuine repentance, regardless of what one is repenting of, implies then not only an acknowledgment of one’s failure or lack of response to the word of God, but it also involves a call to action, a practical doing of what one was lacking, beginning now in the present moment and looking towards the future by planning how one can apply the concrete realities of repentance in one’s life. Without attempting[2] to apply these practical realities, one could seriously doubt the authenticity of such repentance, since as Jesus reminds us in the Gospel of Matthew, you will know a tree by its fruits (Matthew 7:16-20).

Contrary to what some may think, repentance is not meant to shame a person or make them feel bad. Rather, it is meant to open their hearts to the places in one’s life where God may be absent, or at least not have as prominent a place as he desires. If one is seeking God sincerely, this repentance, whether it is regarding our life of prayer or some other aspect of our life, will be an ongoing reality in our life as disciples and not merely a one-time event in a moment of conversion. Hence, we can then clearly see both the importance and necessity of repentance in the life of any serious disciple of Christ.

Furthermore, this twofold aspect of repentance, namely avoiding what harms the Beloved and pursuing the Beloved, is a reality that is present not only in our relationship with God, but in fact in every serious human relationship there is. For example, a good husband is not merely a man who behaves himself and fulfills all his obligations as a husband towards his wife. Rather, a good husband is a man who not only avoids hurting his wife but who loves her above and beyond what mere obligation demands of him. If the only time he gets her flowers or tells her that he loves her is on her birthday or other special occasions, then this husband is lacking in genuine love, and he must repent and begin to pursue his wife more deeply in their daily life together.

Repentance then, understood in this way, is simply a consequence of authentic love.

In the Gospel of John, we are told that “God so loved the world that he gave his only-Begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). This one verse, we could argue, sums up in its entirely the heart of the Gospel, which is namely God’s unconditional love for us revealed in Jesus Christ.  If God’s love is the heart of the Gospel, then repentance is our response to that love. By repenting we are saying to the Lord, “Yes Lord, I believe in you, and I want to believe in you more. I love you Lord, and I want to love you more.  Even though I say my hope is in you, I deeply desire that my hope be only in you.” Hence, true repentance becomes an act of faith, hope, and love, which is why we can say that we will never “outgrow” repentance in our relationship with God. The more our lives are filled with repentance, the more assured we can be that we are listening to and responding to the Gospel right now in our own individual lives.

[1] Ignatius Catholic Study Bible, 66.

[2] The key word is attempting. We are all weak and fragile, and though we must not use this as an excuse, we also must be patient with ourselves and our own brokenness.

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Image: Unsplash

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