According to the representations generally accepted in the “yahvéiste” environment and reflected in the Torah, man could be totally forgiven only for the sin committed involuntarily, for example, by weakness or by ignorance. If the sin was committed deliberately, that is consciously and voluntarily, one couldn’t even speak about a total forgiveness for the one who committed it. Certainly, if the sinner repented sincerely and turned to God for demand of forgiveness, God could forgive him.

But the consequences of sin, that in the language of the Torah is called filthiness, prevailed over the one who sins voluntarily all the rest of his life, affecting even very often his descendants. Everything changed with the coming of Christ: entered into the world the Kingdom, of which the laws distinguish themselves fundamentally from the laws of the non transformed world.

In the kingdom, everyone who associated himself to it receives the possibility of starting from a new page. All the sins committed formerly, stay in the previous life, which took place according to the laws of our not yet transformed world, and before the Christian recently converted lies a blank sheet for a new life, in which there shouldn’t and cannot be a place for sin.

But what, if all the same sin still penetrates into this new life together with what is not transformed yet, and thus, not yet free of the human nature sin? Then, it is obvious that such a sinner will no more find place in the Kingdom, and so he will only have what the books of the New Testament call "outer darkness" or "lake of fire".

Fortunately for us, until the process of entering the Kingdom for our world is not completed, the possibility to start anew, to try again is given to us again and again. But it does not make the situation less serious: because we don’t know, how many times we still have in reserve. And thus, every attempt may well turn out to be the last.

A lot is said in the Bible about faithfulness, and above all, of course, about the faithfulness of man to God. The word "faith" in the Jewish, as well as in the Greek books of the Bible means in particular faithfulness; without faithfulness there is no faith, without it, faith is only a beautiful theory or sublime feelings. Why it is so?

First of all, certainly, because faithfulness means reliability, insurance in stable relationships, without which one can’t talk of any union either with God, or with man. But is it only that? Of what consists the faithfulness of God that mentions the author of the epistle? Perhaps, above all in the fact that once an alliance is concluded, once promises are given, God is strictly faithful, in spite of all the sins of His people, including apostasy, after which, it would seem useless to speak of any union.

But the will of God is inflexible. Then maybe the entire problem is particularly in it, in the will? It is not accidentally if the Bible says to us practically nothing on God's nature, it speaks to us only about His will and about the quality of His relation to us. And the question of our faithfulness to God is nothing else than the try of our will.

The try of that by which begins any spiritual life. That’s surely why for the author of the epistle faithfulness, and thus, the inflexibility of the will and the constancy of the choice once made, comes to the fore. Because without it, there will be neither a normal spiritual life, nor a complete relationship with God. And thus, and the way to the Kingdom will turn out excessive for man.

Apparently, the catastrophe of AD 70 affected the spiritual state not only of the Synagogue but also of the Church. Many church communities were going through a spiritual and, along with it, organizational crisis during this period. It was clearly with this crisis that the author's appeals not to abandon church assemblies were connected (v. 25). One can think that this kind of practice was caused above all by disappointment and confusion connected with the destruction of the Temple and the cessation of sacrifices. It is possible that for many Christians, and first of all for Jewish Christians, the destruction of the Temple meant the impossibility not only of sacrifice but also of the breaking of bread, so that they no longer saw any point in taking part in church assemblies. This is not surprising: traditional Jewish ideas of that time did not separate one from the other, and Jews and Jewish Christians looked at the breaking of bread and at the ritual meals centered on it as a continuation of the sacrificial meal, without which the breaking of bread was thought spiritually and religiously to be completely impossible.

Meanwhile, the author of the letter calls his fellow believers to hold to the former order of church life, pointing out that even in the absence of the Temple and traditional Yahwist sacrifices, full spiritual life is still possible for Christians: the One who brought the Kingdom into the world, becoming the true High Priest for His followers, does not alter either the promises once given or the union-covenant once concluded (vv. 19-24). Moreover, the author considers leaving the Church a betrayal of this union-covenant, comparing it with apostasy, which according to the norms of the Torah is punished by death (vv. 28-31). He reminds them that the Torah allows the possibility of cleansing only from sin committed through weakness or ignorance, but not from sin committed consciously and voluntarily. And for him, voluntarily abandoning the church assembly is an example of precisely such a sin, equivalent to voluntary apostasy (vv. 26-27). This is not surprising: through the breaking of bread, which takes place in the assembly in which the Risen One directly participates, that new union-covenant is realized, the one of which Jeremiah had already spoken and which became reality with the coming of the Savior into the world. The covenant that opens to those seeking the Kingdom. Refusal to take part in the breaking of bread therefore means nothing other than refusal of the covenant, and therefore of the Kingdom.