Confession and repentance (at Christmas?)

In those days, John the Baptizer was preaching ... “Repent!” And they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. — Matthew 3:1, 6

On this day in 1931, Alka-Seltzer went on sale. About 10 days after Thanksgiving, 21 before Christmas and on the eighth night of Hanukkah (in that year), it would be hard to think of a much better time to introduce a product that helps people, who have eaten too much, to feel better.

Parties are in full swing. The refrigerator is covered with invites. Menus are reviewed. Willpower to resist said menus is being mustered or conceptualized. But, we often blow it.

In 1931, the Great Depression may have agitated a stomach or two, boosting Alka-Seltzer’s sales, but over-doing was the primary motivator to purchase the white disks. It is human nature to desire relief and it was a good time to offer something comforting — and speedy comfort at that. We like a happy ending and feeling better.

Many a child has had to think for a few anxious moments before answering a parent’s question: “Is there anything else you want to tell me?” One doesn’t want to say too much — or too little. Human nature is to only confess to the minimum amount necessary.

Rabbi Lewis Jacobs writes about confession, repentance and the difference between the two. Confession is admitting what one did and feeling remorse for it. In the words of the Alka-Seltzer commercial of yore, “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing.”

Jacobs says that repentance is something more. If one finds oneself in the same circumstance, where it is possible to repeat the previous action, and one does not repeat it, then one has truly repented.

To be overly specific, if, last year, you ate too much, said too much or drank too much at the office holiday gathering, you prudently steel yourself against those actions this year. But, if they bring out a fresh platter of wings and a new shrimp tree, and you make a bee-line to the table and load up, you have not repented — no matter how much you feel bad about it. Later, you need the “plop plop fizz fizz.” Yet, Alka-Seltzer is not forgiveness. Yes, “Oh, what a relief it is…” But it is not forgiveness. And you did not, according to Jacobs, truly repent.

In our tribe, with those who follow the Lectionary, Sunday is the second Sunday in Advent, which always seems to bring us to a special biblical character, John the Jewish evangelist. He baptized people with water. But he did so with a two-fold, fiery charge: Confess and repent.

John’s December liturgical placement seems to be a bit like Ebenezer Scrooge. Why can’t he wait until Jan. 7? Confess now? Repent now? Really?

I don’t know about you, but I can be fairly good at confessing. And I can even go further and feel really guilty. I can feel bad about it. But repentance — true repentance — well, that’s another thing.

Will Farrell in “Talladega Nights,” in one of the worst prayers ever, says he prefers the baby Jesus. We like that part of Christmas. In all my years in Middle Georgia, I am yet to see a John the Baptizer figure in someone’s front yard or on their roof. Santa, shepherds and reindeer, yes. John, no.

In Matthew 3:1-12, we find this riverside John inviting us, challenging us, to prepare for the coming of the Messiah by confessing and repenting. And a third thing thrown in — bearing fruit as evidence of the first two. Can’t we just fast-forward to the sweet, baby Jesus?

But the Gospel text for Sunday says we can’t come to the Nativity without going by the river. We do not come to the light of the ninth candle of the menorah without acknowledging our own need to be renewed for the sake of community and our own peace.

Perhaps a more realistic stance might be for me to encourage you to eat the whole thing. Take an Alka-Seltzer. Order the treadmill and have it set up and ready for Jan. 1. Till then, enjoy — and skip the reading about the showdown at the Jordan River.

Yes, the scriptures for this day hold out that we should fill ourselves thoroughly, not from the party platter, but from the God of hope — so full that we would be tipsy with all joy and peace in believing. And that we would bear fruit.

The old carol has us sing, “Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother’s house we go…” Yet John says, “Not so fast ... meet me down by the river side.” And let’s talk repentance, not guilt. Fruit, not fretting.

This story was originally published December 1, 2016 at 7:40 AM with the headline "Confession and repentance (at Christmas?)."