Continuing the conversation about life in the Kingdom, Paul turns to the fundamental concepts of the prophetic tradition that describe the relationship between God and the people of God: mercy (“mercy”) and faithfulness (“truth”). This turn is, of course, no accident, since mercy and faithfulness remain fundamental also for those living in the Kingdom in their relationship with Christ. Speaking of the circumcised, that is, of the Jews, the apostle recalls not so much the people’s faithfulness to God as God’s faithfulness to the promises once given and the covenant once made. Turning to the recent Gentiles who have come to Christ, he recalls mercy, because unlike the Jews, God had promised the Gentiles nothing and had made no covenants with them. If the way into the Kingdom is nevertheless opened to them, it is solely as a gift to which they have no right and on which they cannot in any way count, at least not in the sense in which Jews rely on it, since certain promises had indeed been given to them.

Since the Kingdom is founded on mercy and faithfulness, the relationships among those who live in it must also be permeated with these qualities. Mercy and faithfulness presuppose condescension toward the weaknesses of those who, by definition, cannot be strong, having only recently been joined to the life of the Kingdom. For unlike an ordinary religious community, where common views and their orthodoxy are what matter, in the Kingdom the spiritual unity of the faithful comes to the fore. From the point of view of religion, what matters most are people’s views, their ideas and opinions; from the point of view of the Kingdom, what matters most are relationships, without which it is impossible to glorify God. For religion, what matters most are people’s views, their ideas and opinions; for the Kingdom, relationships without which it is impossible to glorify God. And for the sake of relationships one can make peace with many religious and worldview differences, especially since without such humility one can hardly count on the spiritual unity, the “unity of mind,” of the Church of which the apostle speaks just above, in verses 4–5.

Usually we think that unity of mind is something that can be achieved or obtained. The expression itself is characteristic: to “achieve unity of mind,” as though one keeps striking until it appears. We befuddle one another, produce tons of arguments, or simply persuade one another so that the other person will begin to think the same way we do. The best among us try to take the other person’s point of view, not only to make him agree, but also to try to agree with him ourselves. When such a situation happens at work, it is called “going to the boss to exchange opinions: you come in with yours and leave with his.”

The apostle, however, calls us to something entirely different: “May the God of patience and consolation grant (δωρέομαι) you to be of one mind among yourselves, according to Christ Jesus.” The point is that unity of mind is a gift of God, and therefore it cannot be achieved by human means. We know that gifts from God are received by those who ask for them, and we always have that possibility. But what the apostle says about the conditions for receiving precisely this gift is striking. First, the boundless God, when we ask Him for the gift of being of one mind with one another, manifests definite traits of His person: patience and consolation. And if we ask Him for a certain gift, then we should try to be like Him in what is essential for the giving and, therefore, the receiving of it. In this case, in order to acquire the gift of unity of mind with one another, it is necessary to be patient and able to console one another.

Next, why do people seek unity of mind? In ideologized societies or married couples, one can see that we seek unity of mind in order to rule over one another or to gain certainty when faith is lacking. But the apostle says: “that with one mind and one mouth you may glorify God.” And if our goal is different, unity of mind will not be achieved by any power.

Finally, what must be done to receive this gift? This is what: “Therefore receive one another, just as Christ also received you.” How did Christ receive us? In unconditional mercy, when we were still sinners. If you want to be of one mind with another person, this is the path: pray for it, endure and sympathize with him, seek unity in order to glorify God together, and with love and mercy receive him as he is.

The apostle does not tire of reminding us that for a Christian the matter is never about one's own successes, achievements, or, conversely, failures. Of course, Christian life is a spiritual path that must be walked. But the main thing on this path is not self-improvement, but the manifestation of the Kingdom to the world. A Christian lives not for himself, but for others. True, not in the sense of the altruism that people around us for some reason often expect from Christians, but in the sense of one's participation in the Kingdom.

The ministry of a Christian is his very life, provided that it is truly Christian, because in that case the life of the Kingdom shows through it, further and further, ever more brightly and clearly, and everyone who communicates with him can partake of it. But such a life is possible only if from the very beginning a person renounces the thought of living by himself. Not for himself or for others, but by himself.

The life of a Christian ceases to belong to him; it becomes God's, Christ's, flowing into the stream of the life of the Kingdom, which surpasses everything a person could imagine. But the stream of this life must flow freely. It is impossible to keep it for oneself, to stop it, to separate out a few streams from it so that they are guaranteed to belong to some particular person. Here it is either free movement or nothing. But then one has to renounce the absolutizing of any forms, ways, and images of Christian life, including one's own. One has to realize that the life of all Christians, if they are truly Christians, is one, while the forms - organizational, liturgical, religious in general - are secondary. And none of them is better than any other; each is good when it is appropriate, when it is adequate to existence in the Kingdom for certain people or communities. And if so, then the refusal to absolutize one's own form becomes not simply a concession to the neighbor, but a necessary condition for abiding in the Kingdom.

Indeed, even those forms, including religious ones, which we consider our own, native, and organic, are relative in their essence, and at some point we will very likely have to give them up. Then an observant Jew can discover that what he was so proud of and held on to so tightly - his own religiosity - gives him no advantages at all in the main thing over a Gentile who had nothing of the kind. That is why the apostle advises not to absolutize any forms: for absolutizing presupposes self-identification, which in spiritual life will hinder rather than help.