The path Israel, God's chosen people, walks is difficult. Often this path is "against the goads" (to quote the Lord's words to Paul himself), a path of resistance to God's will. The apostle has already said much about this in his letter, and his pain for his kinsmen according to the flesh, for his brothers and sisters, is very great. And yet, speaking about the reasons that led to Israel's falling away from God, Paul persistently reminds us: yes, they fell away, but God did not take His election from them; God calls them, and Christ died for them as well. More than that, it is very important for the apostle to convey to the Roman community, and through it to all other Christians converted from paganism, an essential warning: one must remember the fate of those who fell away from God and draw the proper conclusions from it. And the chief thing from which he wants to protect the newborn Church is the disease of boasting.

Our personal encounter with the Lord is always an immense gift. At first we walk around stunned by grace unexpectedly received. I think we all remember the happiness of realizing divine love and forgiveness, on the one hand, and the undeservedness of this gift, our unworthiness, on the other. Yet human beings are made in such a way that they easily and gladly remember the first, and just as easily forget the second. And when we look at our brothers and sisters who for one reason or another turn away from God and fall away from the Church, we want to say to ourselves: well, that will not happen to me; it cannot happen.

And here it is, the message to us from the apostle Paul: "They were broken off because of unbelief, but you stand by faith. Do not be proud, but fear." Do not look at your brother's path; "before his own Lord he stands or falls" (Rom. 14:4). He has his own relationship with God, and the Creator's design for each of us is completely unique. Look at yourself, watch yourself, and fear falling away from the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

We live in a world where everyone is for himself. In our life the main thing is to become independent; we so love to speak about independence. In this world each of us is like a tiny particle going its own way. In this atomized society, the most important thing disappears, the thing that makes a person human: mercy, compassion, a sense of responsibility for those nearby. Somewhere something terrible is happening, people are dying, but our concern lasts exactly as long as a news broadcast. At best, another half hour; at the very best, a couple of days. After all, it is somewhere over there; it has no relation to us. More than that, the contemplation of someone else's misfortune, someone else's catastrophe, replaces compassion in us.

But however many walls we build to separate ourselves from other people, however much we try to shut ourselves up in our cozy little world, we will not cancel the fact that the Lord intended our world in a completely different way. In reality we are all connected with one another, and something terrible happening at the other end of the world still concerns us, because the death of each of us changes our world irreparably. More than that, the fact that our world presents such a sad sight is also our fault, our responsibility. This does not mean that we should tear our hair out or fall into depression, but it does mean that we must recognize the measure of our personal responsibility and try not to shift it onto others. And even in those moments when we can do nothing to help, we can always pray for others.

The meal in the house of one of the Pharisees, because of its rich symbolic meaning--a feast as the Messianic Kingdom--immediately gives Jesus material for new parables about the Kingdom He came to proclaim to people.

Fish, as the saying goes, look for deeper water, and people look for a better place. None of the invited guests wants to sit with a man disfigured by dropsy; let him come another day, since seeking healing on the Sabbath is a sin. Feasting is best with friends and neighbors whom you know, who smell pleasant, and who will not let your rich dishes disappear without return; they too will invite you to a "return dinner." And if you are a guest, it would also be good to sit at the head of the table, closer to the generous host.

This is ordinary human life, but for every situation Jesus finds the apt word, without moralizing or angry denunciations. He simply, as if joking, shows us, sitting with Him at table in the Pharisee's house, the whole absurdity of our normal life when one looks at it "from the point of view" of God's Kingdom.