Jeremiah's sermon, delivered at the entrance to the Temple (v. 2), raises several questions. For example, it is not entirely clear what "Baals" (v. 9) he is speaking about, given that this concerns a time when King Josiah's religious reform had already become an accomplished fact. It is not excluded, of course, that the sermon was delivered under one of Josiah's successors, when pagan cults again began to spread in Judah and pagan altars appeared even in the temple court. But here, it appears, the issue is rather the household cults that even Josiah could not overcome.

Paganism, as is well known, always penetrates deeply into everyday life, and it is especially difficult to fight it there, because everyday life is entirely determined by the spiritual content of the lives of those who arrange it. That is why public, official religiosity often differs noticeably from domestic, everyday religiosity. Apparently, a significant part of those newly minted "Yahwists" who appeared in such numbers in the country after Josiah's reform remained essentially pagans, while not doubting their own orthodoxy for a minute.

Such a situation was worse spiritually than open paganism: pagans at least know who they are and are not deceived about themselves, while the imaginary "Yahwists," like those whom Jeremiah addressed, on the contrary remained in a pleasant delusion about their religiosity. Yahwism was, perhaps, for these people not the foundation of spiritual life but merely a kind of national ideology; in Yahweh they saw the Patron of the country and the people, who nevertheless did not touch their hearts, so that in their everyday life there was still room for the Baals and for the cult of the Great Goddess (vv. 17-18).

But such Yahwism became the basis for the rapid growth of a distinctive religious nationalism. The inhabitants of Judah were convinced that nothing threatened them: in Jerusalem they now had the only place on earth where sacrifices were offered to the true God, and therefore neither they nor their country had anything to fear (vv. 3-4). In addition, they were, as can be seen, completely sure that salvation from troubles and the messianic Kingdom were guaranteed to them by definition, since they were the people of God, regularly attended temple worship, and took part in sacrifices, while not thinking at all about keeping the commandments or even about at least leaving behind the pagan cults so dear to their hearts (vv. 9-10). This kind of self-confidence spiritually devalues any cult, as the prophet reminds his fellow countrymen (vv. 21-24).

Such were the fruits of a religious reform carried out from above: the external result was achieved comparatively easily and quickly, but the people's spiritual state turned out worse than before. Now paganism, which had left the streets of Jerusalem and hidden itself in the homes and hearts of the city's inhabitants, was joined by self-confident nationalism thickly mixed with very superficial Yahwist religiosity. This mixture made repentance impossible and catastrophe inevitable.

The Jerusalem Temple, with its sacrifices and worship, will not protect Judah from the coming catastrophe, because the people have turned away from God, practice lawlessness, and worship pagan gods. The coexistence in a person of outward piety and inward unfaithfulness to God is perhaps one of the most dangerous things. After all, Christ most sharply rebuked not tax collectors and prostitutes, but pious hypocrites. The only salvation from this is a constant turning toward God, a readiness to hear and carry out His will.

Today's reading includes two episodes joined by the evangelist into one account. It begins with the disciples' question about prayer, in response to which Jesus offers them, and through them all of us, the "Our Father" (vv. 1-4). Luke, as one can see, focuses chiefly on the importance of asking, and of asking persistently, as a necessary condition for receiving what is asked (vv. 5-13). It would seem that God is not a human being who needs, like a forgetful or unfriendly steward, to be reminded again and again of what is requested. On the other hand, persistence in this case turns out above all to be evidence that a person remembers his request and that it is truly important to him. Indeed, is it worth granting a request that the one who asks forgets the very next day? One can ask this way only for trifles; important requests are those that a person who truly cares about them is ready to repeat again and again, confirming the seriousness of his intentions.

The same seriousness is at issue in the second part of today's passage. The point is not only that the very idea of casting out demons by the power of their ruler was absurd (vv. 17-18, 21-22). The point is also that for those arguing, everything Jesus did was a kind of game, something remotely resembling their own disputes, which were undoubtedly fascinating but, in essence, demanded no commitment. This explains the demand for a sign that would prove Jesus right (vv. 14-16).

The proof had to be theologically correct; it had to correspond to the "right" ideas of the "right" rabbinic school in order to be accepted. And until such proof was presented, anything would do as an explanation of what was happening, including absurd claims about the "prince of demons." But Jesus Himself was not going to play these games, because for Him everything He did was absolutely serious. And He tries to explain to His listeners the full seriousness of what is happening (vv. 24-26). The games are over; what is at stake is a person's spiritual life and spiritual death.

But professional disputants, as one can see, have no concern for that. What matters to them is whether Jesus will manage to outargue them or not. And in their disputes they lose the Kingdom without noticing it. For the Kingdom is not a game; it is serious. And forever.