The image of Martha and Mary has become a classic in Christian tradition, symbolizing two kinds of Christian service—the active and the contemplative—and at the same time establishing their priorities, for the Savior speaks quite unambiguously about what matters most in service. His words are usually understood as pointing to what Mary was doing as she listened to Jesus' words without being distracted for even a minute. Yet “one thing” and “many things” also allow a somewhat different interpretation. It is no accident that Jesus speaks of the “many things” as something that causes a person anxiety and distress—at least, that is what follows if the Greek text is read literally.

Martha busies herself with many things; she is constantly thinking about something that troubles her and deprives her of peace. She has no time to listen, not because she is occupied with household tasks, but because of this constant anxiety that robs her of inner peace. Her many tasks worry her precisely because she is wholly immersed in them: inwardly she rushes from one task to another, anxious that she will not have enough strength for everything she thinks she must do. It is her anxiety, not the number of tasks, that exhausts her so completely that she no longer has the strength to listen to the Savior.

There is only one way out, and Jesus points to it: leave the many for the one, for the central thing that sustains a person—a relationship with Him, with Jesus. When this relationship becomes the center and focus of a person's inner life, all outward affairs are also arranged around that center. The person is no longer scattered or fragmented into a multitude of self-projections connected with everyday tasks, but remains inwardly whole and gathered around the one thing that truly fills both the person and all his work with life.

Today's reading consists of two parts that at first glance are not directly connected with each other. The first part is the account of the withered fig tree (vv. 18-22); the second gives the conversation of Jesus with the chief priests and elders in the Temple (vv. 23-32). And yet there is a connection between these two events, although it is not immediately obvious.

It is no accident that the account of the withered fig tree ends with a conversation about faith that, according to Jesus, can move mountains (vv. 21-22). Clearly, faith here is not only trust in God and in the One whom God sends into the world, but also a definite spiritual state. And the second part of the passage is devoted precisely to what prevents a person from acquiring and keeping that state.

The conversation with the chief priests and elders begins with the question, already discussed more than once, of who gave Jesus the authority to do what He does (v. 23). Jesus, as had happened before, answers a question with a question: was the washing ("baptism") with which John washed people true or false (v. 25)? Then Jesus' interlocutors begin thinking about how to answer Him (vv. 25-27). But they are clearly concerned not with the truth of John's ministry, but only with the possibility of getting out of a delicate situation without losing face. And in the end, as often happens in such cases, they avoid answering (v. 27).

Then Jesus also refuses to answer their question. There is no game here: in fact, with such an attitude toward the matter, trying to explain anything to these people is truly pointless. They are not interested in truth; their own opinion is more important to them - whatever they may say about spiritual life, purity of faith, and other things of that sort.

The parable Jesus tells about the two sons (vv. 28-32) characterizes the situation as well as possible: one can talk about faith and spiritual life as much as one likes, but if there is no sincere obedience to God's will, all of it is only words. And what prevents obedience is a lack of resolve and inner wholeness.

After all, Jesus' interlocutors cannot be called complete unbelievers. But this is not unconditional faith; it is faith with reservations and allowances. Such faith is worth little. It certainly cannot move mountains. The only thing such faith is good for is serving as self-consolation for those who would like to consider themselves believers without sacrificing anything. But such faith has nothing to do with the Kingdom.

Today's reading includes two episodes joined by the evangelist into one account. It begins with the disciples' question about prayer, in response to which Jesus offers them, and through them all of us, the "Our Father" (vv. 1-4). Luke, as one can see, focuses chiefly on the importance of asking, and of asking persistently, as a necessary condition for receiving what is asked (vv. 5-13). It would seem that God is not a human being who needs, like a forgetful or unfriendly steward, to be reminded again and again of what is requested. On the other hand, persistence in this case turns out above all to be evidence that a person remembers his request and that it is truly important to him. Indeed, is it worth granting a request that the one who asks forgets the very next day? One can ask this way only for trifles; important requests are those that a person who truly cares about them is ready to repeat again and again, confirming the seriousness of his intentions.

The same seriousness is at issue in the second part of today's passage. The point is not only that the very idea of casting out demons by the power of their ruler was absurd (vv. 17-18, 21-22). The point is also that for those arguing, everything Jesus did was a kind of game, something remotely resembling their own disputes, which were undoubtedly fascinating but, in essence, demanded no commitment. This explains the demand for a sign that would prove Jesus right (vv. 14-16).

The proof had to be theologically correct; it had to correspond to the "right" ideas of the "right" rabbinic school in order to be accepted. And until such proof was presented, anything would do as an explanation of what was happening, including absurd claims about the "prince of demons." But Jesus Himself was not going to play these games, because for Him everything He did was absolutely serious. And He tries to explain to His listeners the full seriousness of what is happening (vv. 24-26). The games are over; what is at stake is a person's spiritual life and spiritual death.

But professional disputants, as one can see, have no concern for that. What matters to them is whether Jesus will manage to outargue them or not. And in their disputes they lose the Kingdom without noticing it. For the Kingdom is not a game; it is serious. And forever.