Apparently, the catastrophe of AD 70 affected the spiritual state not only of the Synagogue but also of the Church. Many church communities were going through a spiritual and, along with it, organizational crisis during this period. It was clearly with this crisis that the author's appeals not to abandon church assemblies were connected (v. 25). One can think that this kind of practice was caused above all by disappointment and confusion connected with the destruction of the Temple and the cessation of sacrifices. It is possible that for many Christians, and first of all for Jewish Christians, the destruction of the Temple meant the impossibility not only of sacrifice but also of the breaking of bread, so that they no longer saw any point in taking part in church assemblies. This is not surprising: traditional Jewish ideas of that time did not separate one from the other, and Jews and Jewish Christians looked at the breaking of bread and at the ritual meals centered on it as a continuation of the sacrificial meal, without which the breaking of bread was thought spiritually and religiously to be completely impossible.

Meanwhile, the author of the letter calls his fellow believers to hold to the former order of church life, pointing out that even in the absence of the Temple and traditional Yahwist sacrifices, full spiritual life is still possible for Christians: the One who brought the Kingdom into the world, becoming the true High Priest for His followers, does not alter either the promises once given or the union-covenant once concluded (vv. 19-24). Moreover, the author considers leaving the Church a betrayal of this union-covenant, comparing it with apostasy, which according to the norms of the Torah is punished by death (vv. 28-31). He reminds them that the Torah allows the possibility of cleansing only from sin committed through weakness or ignorance, but not from sin committed consciously and voluntarily. And for him, voluntarily abandoning the church assembly is an example of precisely such a sin, equivalent to voluntary apostasy (vv. 26-27). This is not surprising: through the breaking of bread, which takes place in the assembly in which the Risen One directly participates, that new union-covenant is realized, the one of which Jeremiah had already spoken and which became reality with the coming of the Savior into the world. The covenant that opens to those seeking the Kingdom. Refusal to take part in the breaking of bread therefore means nothing other than refusal of the covenant, and therefore of the Kingdom.

Continuing the discussion of Christ as High Priest, the author of the letter speaks of the relationship between Him and the faithful as the essence of what the prophets of Israel called the new covenant. Indeed, the essence of any covenant-union consists, in the final analysis, in a person's sanctification by God, in the effect God has on a person, changing his spiritual life and sometimes even his nature. And the new union, that very new covenant first mentioned by Jeremiah, implied not only the Torah written in the heart, but also a measure of the Presence in the life of an individual person and of the people of God such as had never existed before.

This fullness of the Presence was connected with the person of the Savior, and therefore the author of the letter calls Him High Priest with a capital letter. But no measure of the Presence, even an absolute one, guarantees a person salvation, cleansing, sanctification, or anything else. A person is free, and in the final analysis everything is determined precisely by his choice.

The author of the letter reminds his readers that a sin committed consciously is irreparable in the sense that it is impossible to get rid of its consequences. It had always been so, and even Yahwistic purification offerings were powerless here, though God's presence at the Yahwistic altars was an unquestionable reality. The coming of Christ changes the situation qualitatively in this respect: now it is possible to be freed even from the consequences of sins once committed consciously, because, having entrusted himself to Christ, a person no longer stands alone before God with his sins.

Now Christ Himself is ready to help a person deal with the consequences of his sins, if only the person repents of what he has done and trusts his Savior. But if a person, having become a Christian, considers conscious sin possible for himself, this is equivalent to apostasy and denial of Christ, as the author of the letter reminds his readers.

And then returning back can become very, very difficult: by sinning consciously and of his own free will, a person is in fact opposing his Savior. The Savior is doing everything to free the person from the power of sin, while the person himself is at the same time handing himself over to sin's power, and doing so quite consciously. Such a life puts a wall between a person and Christ, even if previously that same person had turned to Christ quite sincerely and become His disciple. It is these foundational matters of Christian life that the author of the letter reminds his readers about.

In spiritual life, and in life in general, it often happens that a person must bear the consequences of another's choice, a choice not made by him. Bear them in a world characterized by inexorable cause-and-effect patterns. Once set in motion by someone's careless choice, they no longer obey anyone's intentions. And God has to act precisely in such a world. In a completely merciless world. Merciless, above all, because of human irresponsibility. Indeed, our world most resembles a very complex and, if wrongly managed, very dangerous mechanism. How it will work depends on us. Meanwhile we behave like children in a sandbox playing with their toys.

Taking offense at one another, we are sometimes ready to use a force that will destroy not only our offender, but also many who have nothing to do with him. Perhaps even ourselves. And this force is hatred. Hatred that manifests itself most clearly in revenge. It is hard to condemn a person who uses force to defend himself, his family, his home from evil. Sometimes in the fallen world a person truly has no other possibility to defend himself.

Revenge is another matter. Revenge is taken not for self-defense, but for self-assertion. In order to demonstrate one's strength, mercilessness, ruthlessness. In order to frighten. And few think at the same time that the mechanism they have set in motion can no longer be stopped by any human power. The sacrifice of the cross was needed to stop this monstrous flywheel. The flywheel of consciously committed sin, whose consequences were considered ineradicable.

The coming of Christ changes the situation: now everyone has the possibility of beginning a new life in God from a clean slate. But all the greater is the responsibility of the one who has begun this new life for the clean slate he has received. Before, any revenge, any self-assertion of one's destructive power, was revenge first of all against God, who certainly is in no way guilty of the cycle of sin that spun on earth after the fall. Now any sin committed by a Christian becomes a blow struck against the Kingdom.

Of course, neither God nor the Kingdom fears such blows. And God's vengeance is not human vengeance. God does not take revenge; He simply lives His own life. A life incompatible with any evil. A life that by its very existence destroys every self-assertion of evil. The life of His Kingdom, which denies every sin. Therefore it is terrible for every sinner who does not want to part with his sin. But joyful for everyone who is ready to leave his sin and step over the threshold of this Kingdom.