PeaceBang

Metanoia

I am writing a sermon called (wait for it) “Metanoia: Shift Happens” in a few weeks, and have been thinking about how we tend to think of metanoia as related to shame rather than grace. The word metanoia is the Greek for repent, but has come to have a wider meaning in the Christian theological tradition of the transformation of attitudes and assumptions.

The classic story of metanoia in Unitarian Universalist lore is told about the belligerent layman who battles throughout a long, contentious meeting on a difficult challenge in the parish (can someone find the source for me?). At the end of the long night, when asked by one of his exasperated fellows what he sees as the ultimate mission of the church, the man responds, “Well, I guess it’s to change people like me.”

Amazing grace how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now am found
Was blind but now I see.

“Amazing Grace” is the best-known hymn of the experience of metanoia and reminds us that it is not by our will but by God’s grace — coming in the form of prophetic utterances that move us, community that goads us, dreams that haunt us, friends who hold a compassionate mirror to us — that we are transformed. As the previous story illustrates, half the time we don’t even know that we are in need of transformation. To exist in that particular blindness is the human condition.

My favorite recent story of metanoia comes from a laywoman in my congregation who spent years in the church participating, giving, ministering, singing in the choir, serving and enjoying herself but who had a radical shift during a time of crisis when she experienced an outpouring of support. “I always knew up to that time that I loved my church,” she said, “But it had never really occurred to me until then, when I had all that evidence, that my community loved me back.”

Amazing grace that saved a wretch like me. Being a wretch (a wonderful, evocative word) doesn’t always mean being a miserable, lowly worm before the judging Lord. It can simply mean missing a huge portion of reality that, if seen, can open an entire world of inspiration for us, a source of sustenance, and spiritual fuel for the work we are called to do in the world. Here was this woman, for instance, who was cheerfully going about having a really positive experience of church life. She wasn’t cranky and martyred — she didn’t feel that she was missing anything or lacking anything. It just never occurred to her that, as she was going about her happy business, that the community to which she was committed was loving her as much as she was loving it. The veil fell from her sight when she experienced an outpouring of affectionate care when she hit a skid. Who would ever have guessed that there was a veil clouding her vision in the first place?

I don’t think we can set out to experience metanoia. That’s not how amazing grace works.

Late Sunday afternoon I took a number and got in line to audition for a local community theatre production of a show I think is incredibly clever and incredibly topical and an incredibly worthy story to be told. I had prepared my song, I had dressed to suggest the part I wanted, and I walked in at about 4:20 to sing for the director, producer and choreographer. I knew all of these people (and the accompanist) from previous productions and consider all of them friends. But I’ve been involved in theater for a long time: when it comes to auditions, you keep it professional. You may kiss hello and joke around a bit, but auditions are competitive. The director and music director and choreographer might have differing opinions about who should be cast, and you can’t assume anything. Those may be your friends off-stage, but they have a show to cast and they want the best they can find. You may or may not be it. I’ve auditioned for friends many times and not gotten the role I wanted. That’s how it goes, you don’t take it personally.

As I finished my song, which I thought went pretty well, all three of the show staff gave me genuine smiles of such warmth and appreciation that it unnerved me. Could I skip to the end of the song and hit the big high note? Sure, I’d give it a go. They leaned forward, totally relaxed and supportive and it occurred to me,
They really want me to do well. Not just because they want a good Penelope Pennywise for this production, but because in a simply generous way, they just want me to do well. In this moment, they’re not trying to get something from me, they’re not assessing me, they’re not thinking critical thoughts about me — they’re just rooting for me to do well because it would make us all happy. The energy was so different than any other audition I’ve been to. I was very touched. The scales fell from my eyes — I realized that sometimes, even in the midst of a stressful, competitive atmosphere where critical objectivity is important, people are just plain rooting for you. For me.

My friend the director talked to me about the audition later. I had, of course, frozen up and screwed up the dance audition although I had actually mastered the combo pretty well during the practice times when we were dancing unobserved in big batches. I confessed my embarrassment to Michael. “No — you totally nailed it!” he said. “We were scoring people before they even officially got up.” He went on to praise some of my moves, because he’s a sweetie and incredibly supportive. But what a great metaphor for amazing grace, and for metanoia: we go through life thinking we’re being regarded through critical eyes and that it is for our gaffes that we are likely to earn the most attention and generate the most energy. Meanwhile, God and people who look through the eyes of love are watching us when we are dancing in the third row, moving with confidence and joy because there’s no pressure to be perfect yet. And they are noticing, and they are loving our moves.

My take-away, which may resonate with you: When people are watching us closely, it isn’t always to judge and assess, to learn or to get something. Sometimes it’s just to groove on our goodness, and to wish us well. Ain’t that a good news? And wouldn’t you like to pass that spirit along?

God, in your grace, transform the world.