What can "baptism with the Holy Spirit" mean? We are so used to this expression today that we have, it seems, somewhat forgotten its original meaning. Perhaps the word "baptism" itself is to blame, filled as it is with its own, purely Christian meaning and somewhat obscuring the meaning of its Greek and Aramaic equivalent: a cleansing washing that accompanied the traditional Jewish ritual of purification, which consisted, properly speaking, of this washing and a special kind of cleansing sacrifice. During that sacrifice, as during the washing, the person being cleansed publicly confessed his sin aloud before everyone. Confession of sin and repentance alone were not enough. The washing, like the cleansing sacrifice, was meant to free the sinner from the consequences of the sin he had committed, consequences that were completely real and that, if no measures were taken, would hang over the sinner for the rest of his life as a heavy spiritual burden, interfering with his relationship with God and blocking his road into the Kingdom.

But water and sacrificial blood cleansed only from the consequences of a specific sin, and even then only if it had been committed involuntarily, through ignorance or weakness. To enter the Kingdom, however, one had to be freed from sin completely. And here only God Himself, by His breath, could cleanse a person. No human being has such power. Only the Messiah sent by God can open for those seeking the Kingdom the path to the goal they seek.

Speaking of the coming Messiah, Mark mentions washing "with the Holy Spirit." What does he mean? And why was such a washing impossible in pre-Christian times? Did God's breath not fill the world then just as it does now? Of course it did. All the prophets of Israel spoke of the breath of YHWH (of the Spirit of the Lord), and the movement of this breath was undoubtedly familiar to them. And yet there is something special in the washing with God's breath of which John speaks.

What were cleansing washings in pre-Christian times? They were part of a rite of purification, the part with which that rite began. It was thought that impurity stained a person both from the outside and from within, and that one had to be cleansed from it both outwardly and inwardly. Ritual washings were used for outward cleansing: water, people thought, carried away everything from which a person wanted to cleanse himself, his body, and his life. But this was not enough: the cleansing washing was always followed by a special purifying sacrifice, and here, through sprinkling with sacrificial blood consecrated by God, the person was cleansed already from within. God's presence, of course, also sanctified the body already washed with water, but most of all it sanctified the soul and heart, freeing them from the consequences of a committed sin or of contact with uncleanness. But such cleansing, alas, did not guarantee freedom from sin in the future.

Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of the Messiah there can be no place for sin. To become its inhabitant, one must be completely changed, become so alien to sin that it will never again enter the life of the one seeking the Kingdom.

This, of course, is beyond the strength of fallen humanity. But what is impossible for man is possible for God and for the Messiah sent by Him. He can wash a person not with water and not with sacrificial blood, but with that breath of God which can not only cleanse a person, but completely transform him. This transformation becomes, for the one seeking the Kingdom, the final cleansing washing and the final sanctification: a washing and sanctification after which there will no longer be room for sin in his life. At least to the extent that this life will belong to the Kingdom.

We are used to the idea of holiness. People are very fond of praying to saints, and then, when zeal becomes excessive, they turn into a kind of pantheon of lesser gods. But faith does not tolerate anything done out of habit. Such a crystallized image of holiness must be mercilessly broken apart. We can remember that we are all saints at the moment when we receive Communion, for it is said, "Holy things for the holy."

But we can also remember the image of John the Baptist. He is first among the saints, greater among those born of women (Matt. 11:11), the limit of human holiness; in him holiness abides in the fullest way. And yet "the least in the Kingdom of Heaven is greater than he" (Matt. 11:11). Why does the Lord say this? Precisely in order to warn us against creating pantheons. It is precisely for this reason that the image of John helps overcome the tendency described above toward deifying what is not divine, since prayers to him are not nearly as widespread as, say, Marian prayers.

And if we think about it, what two special human beings stand, as it were, above the human race? The Theotokos and John the Forerunner. The Deesis row of the iconostasis in any Orthodox church says the same thing. But we are not used to praying to the Baptist. Maybe it is worth beginning sometime, with God's help, and asking him to teach us not to make an idol for ourselves (Ex. 20:4)?