The apostle's words about comfort in suffering may seem strange at first: after all, perhaps only a masochist can take delight in suffering. History, and not only Christian history, certainly knows many examples of people who remained faithful to their cause despite every persecution and trial, and took pride in not betraying their principles in the face of it all. But if there is joy here, it clearly does not come from suffering itself and is usually not felt while the suffering is taking place. It comes when everything is over and one can look back and acknowledge one's own steadfastness in trials endured for a faith or an idea. Judging by his words, however, the apostle is speaking about something else: comfort at the very moment of suffering, comfort that grows as the suffering itself becomes more intense. This cannot be explained by the laws of the untransfigured world. From the perspective of the Kingdom and its life, however, everything falls into place. Suffering, of course, remains suffering and in itself brings no joy whatsoever. But suffering is part of the untransfigured world that lies in evil; it is itself a manifestation of that evil, and there is no place for it in the Kingdom.

Moreover, the apostle is not speaking merely about suffering, but about persecution for Christ, for bearing witness to the Kingdom. Such witness is possible only insofar as the witness has personally entered into the life of the very Kingdom to which they testify. They are persecuted precisely because, in an untransfigured world, they dare to live by the laws of the Kingdom and to call others to do the same. It is hardly surprising that the more deeply a witness is rooted in the life of the Kingdom, the more strongly the world rejects them, the more intense the persecution becomes, and the greater the suffering. Yet the life of the Kingdom is also experienced more deeply and more truly as the witness becomes more deeply rooted in it! It is this life of the Kingdom that the witness experiences as comfort. Indeed, Christian confession under persecution, like martyrdom, only outwardly resembles the sufferings and persecutions endured for an idea, of which the history of the untransfigured world has so many examples.

A martyr for an idea suffers or even gives up their life merely in exchange for the assurance that they are right and for the right to regard themselves as an uncompromising exponent and bearer of their idea. Sometimes, of course, even this is enough, for certain ideas and principles are not far from the Kingdom. But a Christian confessor suffers, and a martyr gives up their earthly life, not for the idea of the Kingdom but for the fullness of the Kingdom's life, which they would lose if they tried to preserve its wretched earthly semblance at the price of compromise—which would in fact mean renouncing the Kingdom. Paul, it seems, bears witness to this “existential dialectic,” as a modern philosopher might call it, from his own experience as a Christian witness, confessor, and martyr.

Jesus gives old words new meanings. He tells His opponents the ancient parable from the prophet Isaiah (ch. 5) about how his (Isaiah's) friend planted a good vineyard, but thorns and wild grapes grew in it - yet the main meaning of this parable is radically changed by Him.

There the Lord did not receive fruit from His vineyard because His people did not fulfill the elementary moral demands of the law: they oppressed, killed, and deceived one another; this is precisely how their unbelief and "not knowing God" were revealed. Jesus' parable, on the contrary, is addressed to righteous, devout people who are certain that they are the very ones who know God and bring Him the best fruits. Here the "fruitlessness" of the vineyard is caused by the fact that its "vinedressers" do not know how to believe: they reject the prophets and Christ Himself. It is Jesus Himself who here takes the place of Isaiah's moral demands: He is the One in whom the people of God's Kingdom must bear fruit, and the One for whom all the vineyards of the earth were planted.

Continuing the discussion of words and deeds, in today's Gospel reading the Lord brings what has been said to a kind of conclusion. And His words are so frightening that the chief priests and Pharisees try to seize Him and destroy Him on the spot, just so they will not have to hear this. Since all of us, like the Jewish chief priests and Pharisees, are steeped in the logic of historical optimism, it is just as important for us to hear Christ.

One aspect lies on the surface. Any people (or society) that senses or recognizes its special historical purpose has no grounds to count on getting away with everything because of it. To the first God-bearing people in history, the Jews, it was said: "You only have I known of all the families of the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities" (Amos 3:2). These words, like Jesus' words "the Kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people producing its fruits" in today's Gospel, apply to us insofar as we consider ourselves the Creator's chosen ones, taking part in carrying out His designs.

The mission of being a God-bearing people consists in readiness for Him to call us to account for all our iniquities, and in consent to bear Him the fruits of the Kingdom, that is, to live according to the laws of the Kingdom, not according to the "rules" of this world.

It is clear that not every one of us is equally responsible for the features of social ideology. Nevertheless, historical optimism belongs to us at the everyday level as well. We firmly hope that everything will be fine, and we take offense at the Creator if suffering and sorrow visit us. Here too the words of God quoted above are important: the basis for personal, as well as social, historical optimism can only be (a) the absence of iniquities and (b) consent to bear the fruits of the Kingdom. The latter implies readiness to follow Christ along the path He Himself offers you: the path of the Cross.