I’m sorry, I was wrong.

When I was very young, my knowledge of other religions was limited to two facts:
- Catholics believed in Jesus, but they didn’t believe he rose from the dead, which is why they always depicted him still hanging on the cross.
- Jews believed that the only way to be right with God was to offer sacrifices, and the idea of repentance started with Jesus.
I was wrong, in both cases. To my regret, although I learnt fairly quickly that I was wrong about Catholics, I continued to believe—and to teach—the wrong fact about Jews even as an adult. I’m very sorry about this, it was ignorant, and as someone who read the Bible, including the Old Testament, I really have no excuse.
I was reminded of this recently, when reading a little red book of daily Bible studies,[1] that I inherited from my father. The book is looking at the Gospel of Matthew, and is considering John the Baptist. You may remember that John lived in the wilderness, and wore strange clothes, and called to people to repent. As John the Baptist came before Jesus, this should have been evidence enough that Jews believed in repentance—without sacrifice—otherwise John’s preaching would have made no sense.
Barclay discusses what those early Jews would have understood by repentance. It’s much the same as the Christian church today preaches. The word in Hebrew means ‘turn’ or change direction/return, so the idea was that people felt sorry for a behaviour, and therefore wanted to change direction, to turn away from what they knew was wrong. This has always been the way that people have been able to approach God—first we admit the things we are doing wrong, and then we turn away and stop those behaviours. All very New Testament, except actually it started way back, in the Hebrew Canon.
There are several instances when the Hebrews were told to repent, so that God would heal their land, or hear their prayers, or be close to them. We read about it in Ezekiel (Ezekiel 33:11). It also appears in Jeremiah (Jeremiah 31:18-19). Hosea is full of it (Hosea 14:1-2). The book of Jonah is pretty much only about repentance—a wicked nation being told to repent so they won’t be destroyed.
Repentance does of course, thread its way through the New Testament teaching too. It is important. I think it is also timeless—but maybe not something we teach about today as often as we ought. When was the last time you repented of something? Not in the regretful, I wish I hadn’t done that because it caused me a problem, kind of way, but in the, I’m honestly sorry and I will say I was wrong and try not to do it again, sort of way. Repentance, I feel, has gone out of fashion. Instead of saying we were wrong, we give a reason as to why it wasn’t our fault. Or we belittle it, and say it didn’t really matter.
Unless, of course, we are thinking about other people’s wrong-doing. Then we are very keen that they should be sorry. Then we absolutely think they should change their behaviour.
I think repentance is important. I believe it is good for us. I think it is healthy, every night, to think about what we have done wrong during the day, and to admit we were wrong, and to ask God to forgive us—and to try to change. If we never do this, never stop and deliberately think about what we have done wrong, how can we change? How can we be better people? How can we know God in any meaningful way?
I wonder if this is also true of nations. When I look at the big disputes in the world—Israel/Palestine, England/Ireland, India/Pakistan—there seems to be no solution. But everyone is looking at the wrongs (and there have undoubtedly been wrongs) committed by the other side. I wonder what would happen if nations looked at their own wrong-doings? What would happen if governments admitted they had been wrong, and promised to change? But perhaps that is not possible, perhaps the hurts go too deep, perhaps there is not enough trust that the admittance of guilt wouldn’t be misused and twisted by the other party.
Therefore, I will leave the dream of national repentance to one side, and challenge you, today, to think about what it means at a personal level. There is risk with being honest with ourselves—but not, I think, as much risk as being continually dishonest. So go on, I challenge you. Spend some time today thinking about what you have done wrong (because I don’t know anyone who genuinely believes they are perfect). Name those faults before God—and plan to turn in a new direction. It’s what Jews and Christians have been teaching for centuries, maybe it’s time we all did it.
Thanks for reading. Have a good week.
Love, Anne x
anneethompson.com
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[1] William Barclay, The Daily Study Bible: Gospel of Matthew (Edinburgh: The Saint Andrew Press, 1956).
