Main news for 7 April 2018

King James Version (en)

Luke, Chapter 24, verse 45

³⁶ Afterwards he appeareth to the apostles and reproveth their unbelief

⁴⁵Then opened he their understanding, that they might understand the scriptures,

NOTES

The first thing Jesus brings is peace. Saint Augustine wrote that our heart is restless “until it rests in You.” Deep peace in the heart is a sign of a genuine visitation from God. Perfect peace is a very exalted state; it is precisely this peace that the peacemakers of the Gospel “make” and bring with them. This state of peace in one's thoughts, heart, and even body is so precious and so akin to God that those who bring this peace from Him will be called sons of God. In biblical language, a “son” means one who partakes of something: someone who bears a particular quality or attribute (for example, the nickname of the sons of Zebedee, “sons of thunder”), or someone whose appearance is associated with a particular event in a person's life—with birth or death, victory or defeat (“son of consolation,” “son of my sorrow”). The sons of God are people who have participated in divine peace to such an extent that they can bring it to others, conveying to those around them the peaceful state of their heart in which God reigns. Such peacemaking is a sign of righteousness. It is already an action in itself. It was not by chance that Saint Seraphim of Sarov regarded peace in the heart as the clearest sign that the Holy Spirit had come to dwell there, and said: “Acquire peace, and thousands around you will be saved.” The peace that comes from God is essential to our world, which is torn apart by conflicts and wars, the chief and first of them being the war in our thoughts and feelings.

The Good News of Jesus is, above all, peace. That is why the Lord's first words to His disciples after the Resurrection were the greeting: “Peace be with you.” The apostles are fearful and trembling, as they always are when present at a miracle (for example, when the storm was calmed, they likewise thought they were seeing a ghost). But the Lord gives us “a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Tim. 1:7). The power of the Holy Spirit grows out of deep inner peace. It is the result of the reconciliation between humanity and God accomplished on the Cross, of which the Spirit informs every believer. The Lord has reconciled us to Himself (2 Cor. 5:18) and, having gained victory over hell and death, proclaims this victory to His disciples. All subsequent apostolic preaching can be reduced to the appeal: “Be reconciled to God” (2 Cor. 5:20), that is, accept the peace and forgiveness of sins bestowed by the Lord.

“It is I Myself.” How each of us would like to hear this word of Christ in our own life—to hear it as a word addressed directly to me. “Lord, let me find You, truly find You, so that my life may really change and become a witness to You.” Yet we seem to seek and knock, while no full answer comes. We do not feel that we are truly breathing the air of eternity, that we have known Him (John 17:3), that we “walk with Him” as His disciples and friends did. There have been glimpses, moments of grace, perhaps even a vivid conversion, yet our life has still not been transformed…

Yes, an encounter with God that renews and transforms the soul is as “impossible” a miracle as the Resurrection of Jesus was for the apostles. And this miracle became reality. More than that, the Lord promises that for those who believe “through their word” (John 17:20), an encounter with Christ will likewise become reality through the Holy Spirit, whom He will send to all who seek Him. “Your heavenly Father will give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him” (Luke 11:13); this request simply cannot remain unheard. The prayer that seeks Him is the one and deepest supplication arising from the depths of our soul. From its very beginning, such prayer is inspired by the Holy Spirit, mysteriously guided by Him, and fulfilled by Him as well. But, alas, our own depths are often inaccessible to us, buried under rubbish and debris, all kinds of needless thoughts, resentments, bustle, and old wounds. We must clear away the wreckage, find this prayer within ourselves, and see what the soul secretly asks for day and night. This is the labor of repentance. For this reason ascetics went into forests and deserts, so as to devote themselves entirely to seeking the “treasure hidden in a field”; this is also the meaning and significance of the Church's fasts, especially Great Lent. But it is also the labor of a whole lifetime. May each of us behold the light of the Resurrection.

…The disciples had to experience separation from Christ twice. The first time was when He died on the Cross; the second, when He ascended into heaven. The first separation was the greatest tragedy, but the second was the greatest joy (Luke 24:52), because the disciples knew that they had not been left alone. They felt Christ's presence in their lives and His constant participation; they knew that the Lord and Teacher had not abandoned them. They awaited the fulfillment of “the promise of the Father”—the coming of “another Counselor” (John 14:16) and their being clothed with power from on high to bear witness. The Holy Spirit is the One who brings Christ's presence into our lives, reveals to us the reality of His redeeming work, and bears witness in our hearts that we are children of God (Rom. 8:16). He discloses to us the true meaning of Holy Scripture (cf. Luke 24:45) and enables us to understand that the same Christ whom we meet on the pages of the Gospel is also at work in our lives. In the Holy Spirit we will find Christ and gain the strength to follow Him. Let us pray, and pray for one another, that the light of the Resurrection may enlighten and cleanse us, penetrating with love into the most distant and wounded corners of the soul; that we too, like the first apostles, may meet the Risen One; that at last, after the long night, the day may begin to dawn and the morning star rise in our hearts (2 Pet. 1:19).

For many people today, the question of resurrection recedes into the background, giving way to thoughts about postmortem existence, the immortality of the soul, rewards and punishments after death, heaven and hell. Meanwhile, the Bible says very little about all this, if it says anything at all. Evidently the biblical authors were concerned not with what often concerns us today, but with something completely different: what they called resurrection from the dead.

At first glance it can appear that the difference is not essential: in the end, the subject is still life after death, and the details are not so important. In reality, the difference between the immortality of the soul and resurrection is very great. What is the immortality of the soul in general? What kind of life, what kind of postmortem existence, could be meant in that case?

From the biblical point of view, the postmortem existence awaiting a person is rather bleak: it is not full life, but its pitiful likeness, which can hardly satisfy anyone. There is no question of a person's complete disappearance after death, but what awaits him after death can be called life only with great reservation. All that remains of a person is a shadow; he loses feelings and thoughts, almost loses the memory of his own life and of the world of the living: a shadow in which only a remnant of consciousness barely flickers. It is no accident that when the apostles saw the risen Jesus, they thought they had before them the shadow of their Teacher coming out of the tomb: none of them expected any other postmortem existence, and a meeting with a shadow, even the shadow of a loved one, could bring the living nothing good. The Bible tells us nothing about a blessed postmortem existence or about postmortem recompense like that mentioned in Egyptian or Greek myths.

But it does speak about resurrection, and the image of the risen Jesus shows us quite clearly the difference between postmortem existence and resurrection. Resurrection is not the preservation of pitiful remnants of life after the death of the body, but a return to life in all its fullness, requiring the transformation of human nature itself. Such is the transfigured humanity of the risen Jesus: on the one hand, He can pass through a locked door, which is no longer an obstacle for Him; on the other, He is able to eat the same ordinary earthly food that any of us eats. He is not a shadow; He deliberately lets the disciples touch Him so that they can be convinced of this. He is a man of flesh and blood, although this flesh and this blood live according to different laws from those by which we live.

And He gives the apostles the chance to understand that He has not simply returned to life, but has conquered, has overcome death, which no longer has power over Him. In the same way, it has no power over the life of the Kingdom that He brought into the world and offers to each of us.

The Gospel of Luke ends with a brief description, or rather a brief mention, of the Ascension. The evangelist's logic is understandable: he wanted...

The Gospel of Luke ends with a brief description, or rather a brief mention, of the Ascension. The evangelist's logic is understandable: he wanted to describe in full the entire forty-day period of the risen Jesus' stay with His disciples, right up to the completion of that period.

But this is, so to speak, a purely factual, event-based logic. There is another logic in the Gospel as well, one connected with the spiritual meaning of the events taking place. It is no accident that, speaking about meetings with the Risen One, the evangelist describes in such detail what happened on the road to Emmaus, when the apostles, walking along the road and talking with the Teacher, did not recognize Him, and later, during the breaking of bread, having recognized Jesus, immediately lost sight of Him. On the day of the Ascension He also disappears from the sight of His disciples. Clearly, with the Ascension a new stage begins in the establishment on earth of the Kingdom that the Savior brought into the world.

That this Kingdom includes the whole world, together with its physical nature, had become clear even earlier, when Jesus allowed His disciples to make sure that He was not a ghost, not a shadow that had come out of the tomb, but a real living Man. Of course, His human nature changed after the Resurrection; otherwise appearances like the ones the apostles had to observe on the road to Emmaus would scarcely have been possible. But in a certain sense it still remained nature, though transformed: if it were otherwise, He could hardly have tasted earthly food after the Resurrection. After the Resurrection Jesus does not turn into an angel, into a bodiless spirit that has lost every connection with the natural world. He remains a Man, but His human nature changes in quality.

The same thing must finally happen to the world and to each of us, if we follow the path into the Kingdom to the end. Being transformed, the world loses nothing except the evil whose captive it has become. And we, being transformed, lose nothing except the sin that keeps us from living the fullness of the life of the Kingdom.

But in order for the Kingdom to enter the world, its King must be in His own place. Not at the boundary that separates the Kingdom from the fallen world, where even a person who has not yet come into contact with the Kingdom can see Him, but in the very depth of the Kingdom, at its center, on the throne where Christians with good spiritual sight saw Him. To those who are unable to look into the depth of the Kingdom, it may appear that the King has gone away, disappeared, dissolved into that radiant cloud of God's presence that usually accompanies a theophany. In fact, He has simply gone to the place where the King must be when events decisive for His Kingdom are beginning. And that means the events will begin. Very soon.

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