Today's reading touches on another theme, one very important for understanding what life in the Kingdom is. But the meaning of what Jesus says becomes clear only in the context of the situation of that transitional era which began with the coming of the Savior and in which we live. It could be called the era of the advancing Kingdom, and it will be completed by Jesus' return. But since we do not know the exact timing of this return, readiness is required always, every day and every hour.

In fact, this is the meaning of the parables Jesus tells (vv. 36-48). When the Gospel speaks about the nearness of the Kingdom, what is meant is not the date of Christ's second coming, but the fact that the Kingdom has already entered the world, that its presence for us today is no longer future but present; and if we notice nothing of the sort, it is only because we do not want to notice. Of course, sometimes for those to whom God entrusts ministries connected with the Kingdom, the apparent remoteness of the time when the process will be completed has a relaxing effect, like the effect produced on the unrestrained servant in the parable by the thought that the master was far away (v. 45).

It is not surprising that those who knew everything and, despite everything, allowed themselves to relax are called to a more serious account than those who knew less (vv. 47-48). What is interesting is something else. In the world there are those who know more and those who know less, but, as one can see, there are none who know nothing. It is no accident that Jesus compares the signs of the advancing Kingdom to the signs by which people in those days recognized a coming change in the weather: they were just as obvious and just as understandable to everyone, so that it was simply impossible not to notice them at all and understand nothing (vv. 54-57).

That is why the coming of the Kingdom divides people, and the division, as one can see, does not run along any national, class, or religious border, but across all borders, separating those who accept the Kingdom from those who reject it, people sometimes living not only in one country and one city, but even in one house (vv. 51-53). And this happens not because God needs divisions, but because the Kingdom is an absolute reality; it is impossible to enter it partly or halfway, and even entering it "almost completely" will not work: one enters the Kingdom either to the end and without looking back, or one does not enter at all. That is why in the Church, according to the word of the Apostle Paul, there can be "neither Greek nor Jew": if the Church remains the Kingdom and does not turn into a religious organization, one among many, then only one division remains relevant for it: between those who accept the Kingdom and those who reject it. All other divisions are conditional and relative; this one is absolute, as absolute as the division between eternal life and eternal death can be.

Speaking to the disciples about the Kingdom, Jesus describes it above all as a new life opened to those who seek it. But it can be found only in the case of absolute openness on one's own part. To live the life of the Kingdom, one must renounce one's own life. Not one's life-space as such, not that flow of life which the Bible calls the soul, but the attempt to appropriate this space and this flow for oneself, to regard it as one's inalienable property, belonging to oneself by right.

In the Kingdom everything is different. There life is shared. One life for all. It is not owned; it is given for use. And the measure of this use is limited by nothing except the spiritual potential of the person himself. As much of the life of the Kingdom as he can contain, that much he will receive. But it does not become anyone's own in the sense in which we are accustomed to use that word with reference to property relations in our world.

The life of the Kingdom is yours insofar as you can live by this life. And therefore Jesus advises surrendering oneself to the flow of the life of the Kingdom. Enter it like a river. And move together with it. Without trying, as people say today, to fix anything in place. Without trying to evaluate one's own states, achievements, or failures. Without clinging to anything that attracts and holds a person in this world. And certainly without trying to fit the life of the Kingdom into religious frameworks: the new life cannot be kneaded on either Pharisaic or Sadducean leaven. The Kingdom does not fit into any human frameworks, but it does fit into the human heart. If, of course, it becomes the person's chief treasure. For where the treasure is, there is the heart.

"Fear not, little flock!" That was also the title of an article by Fr. Georgy Chistyakov, which contains the following passage:

"If we analyze Sacred Scripture on the basis of what linguists call the 'frequency' of the use of a given word, we discover that almost 370 times in it there is the call: 'Fear not!' It is addressed now to Abraham, now to Jacob, now to Gideon in the Old Testament, now to the apostles and the myrrh-bearing women in the Gospel. This call is constant and insistent. God does not say: do not be afraid of this or that. He addresses us with extreme simplicity: do not be afraid. Never and of nothing! Of course, fear is embedded in our nature from the beginning - as are many other things. But some natural traits must be developed, while others must be outgrown. Overcome. God addresses precisely our animal memory: 'Fear not, little flock!' - and even more sharply: 'I send you as sheep among wolves.'" ("Ogonyok," 1999).

Everything here is said with the utmost precision and unity; it is hard to add anything. Still, one can recall these well-known words of the evangelist: "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear, because fear has torment. The one who fears is not perfected in love" (1 John 4:18). For us this is paradoxical; with us everything is usually the other way around: the more we love, the more we fear for the beloved. But that is only the beginning of love. After all, if the Lord is all-good, and the final "station" will be the state when "God is all in all," then what is there for us to fear? Only to endure and wait remains, and to endure and wait means to believe. But the fearful thing stands clearly before our eyes, while the angelic world is hidden. How can one not be afraid? How can one not want to eat, not want to sleep, and so on... It is impossible. And precisely because of this impossibility, this is something utterly true.

I will accept all, take all that You give,
Whatever You give, whatever You send me.
Let wild folly come to pass,
Let dark falsehood envelop me.
Grant that I may hear You amid the lie
And not confuse Your voice with another.
Help me, strengthen me, uphold me
With Your careful breath.
(Yuly Shreider)

"Let wild folly come to pass" - somehow these words really are frightening. Still, as another poet said, "We do not need to fear this darkness, and we will not pretend to be happy" (B. Okudzhava).