Unlike Matthew, Luke and John, it takes the breathless Mark no time at all to launch into his story. We're in and out of the wilderness in no time, John the Baptist's entire ministry delays us for just ten verses, and then we are in Galilee. Jesus, as though no one can hold things back any longer, begins to proclaim God's 'good news', the news which Mark has already told us in the opening words of his Gospel is about himself - 'the good news of Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God'.
The words above are his call for a response to that good news, and taken at face value they may seem less than inviting. When someone hears good news - an exam passed, promotion earned, a baby born, a couple wed - our natural response is joy and gratitude. Repentance hardly seems fitting, in the circumstances. Celebrations aren't normally marked by sackcloth and ashes. Why, if this is indeed the 'good news' for which the people have been waiting eagerly for centuries, does it call for them to repent as well as believe it?
I think the clue is in the true meaning of the word 'repentance' - metanoia, in Greek. We know the word 'metamorphosis', a change of form - a caterpillar into a butterfly, for instance. Metanoia is a change of mind, not in the casual sense of a change of opinion but in a total turning round of our attitude to something. Repentance, as the New Testament uses it, is a shift of will rather than feelings or mood. It is the complete reversal of our previous attitude, what St Paul called 'being transformed by the renewing of your mind' (Romans 12:2). That was the call of Jesus - to hear and believe this amazing good news and then to allow it to transform its hearers, to change their whole life's direction, as it did for Simon, Andrew, James and John (vv. 16-20. If Lent is indeed a time for 'repentance' (and it is), let it be the
positive kind that changes us, not just for six weeks but for life - and for eternity.
David Winter
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