The Lord Jesus Christ proposes to His followers the prayer of "our Father" and completes it with a brief recommendation in answer to the demand of these last ones to teach them how to pray. The brevity of Christ’s answer to a so important question is in itself astounding. Conversations about prayer in the contemporary Christianity are more ample than what says the Lord. Besides, we can find in His words some very important moments. Firstly, Jesus tells His followers nothing similar to these words: "you cannot understand this now", as He did sometimes to the followers and especially to the Jews on the mystery of Incarnation. His recommendation is of a rather simple and practical character; He doesn’t make of the prayer an esoteric thing, which means accessible only to the elected ones and the initiated and veiled from laymen.

The Lord Jesus proposes to turn to His Heavenly Father with worship and ask for the fulfillment of His will and His vision for the world. He also suggests making a very brief request of our daily needs, a request for forgiveness, the ability to forgive others, and protection against evil. And further, Jesus speaks only about insistence and humility in prayer in His explanation to the followers. All the rest, what is written in tomes concerns in essence not only prayer, but also the fact that we have to gather together our personality that is divided in parts.

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.

Speaking about the new life, the life of the Kingdom, Paul contrasts it with what he calls "works of the Torah" ("works of the Law," v. 16). It would seem that the works of the Torah should be the main occupation of those who seek to fulfill the commandments. But the matter, as can be seen, was not quite like that. In the time of Christ and Paul, works of the Torah were often understood as roughly what we today call religious duties. Formally, all of them were connected, of course, with the need to fulfill one or another norm of the Torah, but in fact many of them had long since ceased to have any relation to it, being based solely on tradition, often only loosely connected with the Torah. The fulfillment of these religious duties turned, in circles of religiously active people, such as the Pharisees, into a kind of religious sport, in which successes and achievements were valued very highly. After all, according to the opinion generally accepted in the religious environment, the reward for those who succeeded was the Kingdom, toward which religious activists sometimes strove with complete sincerity, though at times without a very clear idea of what that Kingdom was, the one they were so eager to reach.

Paul, as can be seen, understands perfectly well that no successes in religious life have any relation to solving the main task: they cannot bring anyone closer to the Kingdom. The apostle never tires of reminding us that a sinful person is not able to follow the Torah to the end, that for this he will have to die; otherwise sin will never leave him, and no religion has the power to change anything here (vv. 19-21). The former, natural life must disappear in order to give way to another, new life, the life of the Kingdom, by which the risen Christ lives. But this is a difficult path, and fallen human nature begins quite naturally to look for easier paths, turning among other things to religion. For Paul, all such attempts are nothing other than a desire to return to the former, sinful life, refusing the path to which the Savior calls His faithful ones (vv. 17-18). It is a refusal of the Kingdom for the sake of human opinions, human concepts, and human religiosity. It is a refusal that never passes without a trace for those who have refused.