It is not hard to imagine the mixed state of the Pharisees after Jesus forced the Sadducees to be silent: the One with whom they were used to arguing had put their opponents to shame. For that reason the lawyer's question about the two greatest commandments looks like a kind of probing: could He perhaps be drawn over to their side? It is hard for the Pharisees (and not only for them) to grasp that in fact they should have made the decision to cross over to His side. Moreover, even today many ideologues cannot resist the temptation to present Christ as their predecessor and like-minded ally; they too want to recruit Him into their camp. But what looks coherent in propaganda articles falls apart when it meets Reality.

And so Christ answers the Pharisee's question. But in doing so He does not simply give an answer to this particular question; He reveals the central foundations of faith and life. It is understandable that He named the words about love for God, absorbing all one's strength and aspirations, as the greatest commandment. However like it He called the commandment about love for the human person, which may have seemed strange to people accustomed to placing religious concepts above everything human. And yet this is exactly what Christ brought to people and what sets Christianity apart from all religions.

Of course, the commandment to love people is not equal to the commandment to love God; it is only like it. But in Christianity the human person is raised as high as no teaching raises him. And only Christ finally destroys the impassable barrier between God and people.

In this reading from the book of Exodus, if we look more closely, we can see an image of God that we do not usually associate with the Old Testament: the image of One for whom mercy is above justice. At first everything appears to go according to plan: it is clear that not stealing, not offending, not oppressing, and not exploiting others are all just. But at the end something unexpected and not fully just appears: "If you take your neighbor's garment as a pledge, return it before the sun goes down."

Let us think about it: a pledge is not taken for one's own pleasure; a pledge is a guarantee that money or something else lent will be returned. So it is quite logical and just not to return the pledge until you have received back what was lent. But the Lord says: "Think about the person - what will he sleep in?" From the standpoint of pure justice, the question is out of place; after all, if he gave his garment as a pledge, that is his own problem. But God gives an irrefutable argument: "When he cries out to Me, I will hear, for I am merciful."

Mercy is above justice. This is the voice of Jesus. And there is no point in trying to separate the God of the Old Testament from the God of the New Testament. He, the Living and True One, is one.

For the disciples of Christ, for whom this Gospel was written, their faith and hope were bound in the closest way to the Resurrection of Jesus from the dead after His execution and burial. That is precisely why the brief account of Jesus' opponents, who tried to prove the impossibility of resurrection, was so important to them. Their argument, which at first may look like meaningless casuistry about a nonexistent situation (seven brothers for one wife), is in fact strong precisely because of its absurdity. There is so much absurdity and evil in the world that death appears more like a cure for pain and deadlock. What will happen if all people suddenly "rise," that is, return to this life, with all its imperfection and limitation? How can seven brothers share one unfortunate woman?

Christ answers from an entirely different position. Resurrection is necessary because every person is in one way or another connected with the living God. And this means that in the resurrection a person lives by the life of God Himself, free from human absurdity and pain.