Peter's confession. What does it mean for us now, when we stand at the Cross and Pascha is still so far away? Pascha is far away, but the Cross is always before our eyes, and how necessary it is for us at this moment to hear: "You are the Christ." Because we are tired, because we are weak, because now the fast seems endlessly long to us, and the promised joy so undeserved. But this confession of Peter, which is so generously given to us today, both strengthens and confirms us; and, being spoken in such a difficult time, it makes us remember another confession. Mary's confession.

How hard it was for Mary to live out the Good News, how heavy it was for her to bear this burden, and she went to Elizabeth. Not in order to share this burden with her. No, for it was her burden alone. She made this journey because she simply needed very much to see someone close to her. So that someone dear could simply be nearby. And now this other confession of faith is given to us. "And Mary said: My soul magnifies the Lord" (Luke 1:46). The fast has passed the middle - the hardest time. We have already had time to grow tired, and Pascha is still so far away. And now two wonderful confessions of faith in Jesus are given to us. "Unwedded Virgin and All-Pure Mother, having received the annunciation from the Archangel, you hastened with care into the hill country; and having greeted your kinswoman, the most honorable Elizabeth, you were called by her the Mother of the Lord, and you magnified the Lord who magnified you: Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the Fruit of your womb" (the troparion for the day of the Praise of the Most Holy Mother of God, that is, for today). Let us also magnify the Lord; and although Pascha is still far away, it will come, and each one will be magnified.

Peter loved Jesus very much. But this love became perfect only after the Cross. Before that it was childishly naive, selfish, and weak. We too often think that we love, but in practice this is the satisfaction of our own needs. Look at funerals. People weep, but if they truly believed, they would feel luminous sorrow. There might be tears, but there would be no anguish in them. Anguish is always about oneself. We do not want our beloved to die. We are afraid of this. Almost anyone will tell you that there is nothing more frightening for us; even our own death does not frighten us as much as the death of someone close.

And to this very most frightening thing in the world, the Lord says through the apostle's mouth: "there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear" (1 John 4:18). Peter is afraid for Jesus, he does not want anything to happen to Him, but this fear comes from a lack of faith and therefore hinders the providential paths of the Lord.

It is very difficult to attain perfect love. For Peter this required passing through the trial of the Cross of the beloved person, and this is probably why the words about Peter in today's reading are followed by the words about the cross. And specifically about one's own cross, for the cross of the beloved becomes your cross.

"Take up your cross and follow Me..." A childhood, or more precisely half-childhood, story comes to mind. A man found himself in the most desperate situation, whether because of family tragedies and troubles or because of money, which was not enough even for the most basic necessities. So he cried out to God with reproach, saying, in effect, that his cross was too heavy. And the Lord said to him: Very well, have it your way. I will invite you to Heaven, and you yourself will choose the cross that will be within your strength. And so He did. The man walks along, and around him stand various crosses, as in our cemeteries: there are small wooden ones, there are metal ones, and there are huge stone ones, taller than a person. He walks and walks, and he sees a cross that pleases him: this one, he says, I choose. And the Lord, smiling, says to him: but that is your cross.

In fact, something simple is being said here, simple but important. We often complain about our life, but just try making us drag someone else's cross, and we will cry out. Because we are weak and frail. Only the Lord was able to make all our little crosses merge into His one Cross by the power of His all-good might. Therefore: "and I keep repeating: if things go badly for me, they were worse for my God and more painful for the Mother of God" (N.S. Gumilev)

But why should it hurt at all? Why should we have to drag these cursed crosses at all? Why could it not have been done without this? This question has no answer, but is it not joy to be with the Lord, is it not joy to do something so that it may become even a little easier for Him? It is, is it not? If so, we need only see this, realize that by carrying our cross we share in God's suffering and lighten it. How can we see this? Simply pray, and then you will see. Pray, presenting yourself to God not in some particular form, but in all simplicity. Thanking Him for this highest joy in the world: to be needed by someone.