A lot is said in the Bible about faithfulness, and above all, of course, about the faithfulness of man to God. The word "faith" in the Jewish, as well as in the Greek books of the Bible means in particular faithfulness; without faithfulness there is no faith, without it, faith is only a beautiful theory or sublime feelings. Why it is so?

First of all, certainly, because faithfulness means reliability, insurance in stable relationships, without which one can’t talk of any union either with God, or with man. But is it only that? Of what consists the faithfulness of God that mentions the author of the epistle? Perhaps, above all in the fact that once an alliance is concluded, once promises are given, God is strictly faithful, in spite of all the sins of His people, including apostasy, after which, it would seem useless to speak of any union.

But the will of God is inflexible. Then maybe the entire problem is particularly in it, in the will? It is not accidentally if the Bible says to us practically nothing on God's nature, it speaks to us only about His will and about the quality of His relation to us. And the question of our faithfulness to God is nothing else than the try of our will.

The try of that by which begins any spiritual life. That’s surely why for the author of the epistle faithfulness, and thus, the inflexibility of the will and the constancy of the choice once made, comes to the fore. Because without it, there will be neither a normal spiritual life, nor a complete relationship with God. And thus, and the way to the Kingdom will turn out excessive for man.

For many people today, the question of resurrection recedes into the background, giving way to thoughts about postmortem existence, the immortality of the soul, rewards and punishments after death, heaven and hell. Meanwhile, the Bible says very little about all this, if it says anything at all. Evidently the biblical authors were concerned not with what often concerns us today, but with something completely different: what they called resurrection from the dead.

At first glance it can appear that the difference is not essential: in the end, the subject is still life after death, and the details are not so important. In reality, the difference between the immortality of the soul and resurrection is very great. What is the immortality of the soul in general? What kind of life, what kind of postmortem existence, could be meant in that case?

From the biblical point of view, the postmortem existence awaiting a person is rather bleak: it is not full life, but its pitiful likeness, which can hardly satisfy anyone. There is no question of a person's complete disappearance after death, but what awaits him after death can be called life only with great reservation. All that remains of a person is a shadow; he loses feelings and thoughts, almost loses the memory of his own life and of the world of the living: a shadow in which only a remnant of consciousness barely flickers. It is no accident that when the apostles saw the risen Jesus, they thought they had before them the shadow of their Teacher coming out of the tomb: none of them expected any other postmortem existence, and a meeting with a shadow, even the shadow of a loved one, could bring the living nothing good. The Bible tells us nothing about a blessed postmortem existence or about postmortem recompense like that mentioned in Egyptian or Greek myths.

But it does speak about resurrection, and the image of the risen Jesus shows us quite clearly the difference between postmortem existence and resurrection. Resurrection is not the preservation of pitiful remnants of life after the death of the body, but a return to life in all its fullness, requiring the transformation of human nature itself. Such is the transfigured humanity of the risen Jesus: on the one hand, He can pass through a locked door, which is no longer an obstacle for Him; on the other, He is able to eat the same ordinary earthly food that any of us eats. He is not a shadow; He deliberately lets the disciples touch Him so that they can be convinced of this. He is a man of flesh and blood, although this flesh and this blood live according to different laws from those by which we live.

And He gives the apostles the chance to understand that He has not simply returned to life, but has conquered, has overcome death, which no longer has power over Him. In the same way, it has no power over the life of the Kingdom that He brought into the world and offers to each of us.

How often does it happen that we, like the "men of Galilee," simply stand and look? We are under an impression: perhaps from a meeting with God, or perhaps with some person, or from something else... Something has struck us to the depth of the soul, and we want to preserve this feeling in ourselves a little longer. As one well-known literary character said, "Stay, moment, you are beautiful!" It appears to us that here, where this meeting happened, here is where we ought to be - because precisely here I can meet God!

But God does not want us to stand in one place, keeping watch for His next appearance. To the disciples "stuck" at the place of His Ascension, the Lord sends angels to explain: He sees them and is waiting in an entirely different place. They need to go farther, they need to fulfill His commission, they need to share what He gives in this encounter, without trying to keep everything for themselves.

In our relationship with God the principle is very true: "When you think you are standing still, you are falling." He wants movement from us - movement toward where He Himself calls us, toward where His Spirit leads us, without regret for the place of encounter left behind, but "with great joy" (see Luke 24:52).