In today's reading, the apostle Paul, relying on the immutability of the Word of God, marks out a very important feature of our faith that distinguishes it from a vast number of religious movements. It is the absence of a secret teaching, which by the end of the first century had already come to be called, as a term, "gnosis" (Greek gnosis, knowledge). This term does not mean knowledge of the Truth that disciples receive from the Teacher, but secret, hidden knowledge that separates its possessors from the profane, from the uninitiated. In general, the idea of initiation was not characteristic of the initial period of Christian history, apart from the consecration of the whole people of God. The structure of the sacred hierarchy in the Church is determined not by some special secret gnosis, as Hellenized pagans thought, but by the obligation to practice the special gifts of the Holy Spirit given to people.

So the apostle writes: "as I hope you will understand to the end." Addressed to the whole community, these words imply precisely that there is nothing secret that would be inaccessible to people. The Savior Himself says in prayer to the Father: "I made Your name known to them (people)" (John 17:26): what could be higher than this? And in Deuteronomy the Lord also says about the truth: "this commandment that I command you today is not too hard for you, neither is it far off" (Deut 30:11). And if the truth is not inaccessible and not far away, what excuse do we have when we do not want to find it?

Addressing the Christians of Corinth, Paul turns from the theme of persecution and confession to questions that, at first glance, have nothing in common with either of them. He shares his plans with the Corinthian church, evidently hoping for support from his fellow believers (vv. 15-16). But, on the other hand, the apostle does not accidentally remind the addressees of his letter of the definiteness and unambiguity of all his words and actions, calling as witness everyone who could have heard him (vv. 17-20). Such definiteness and unambiguity are possible only on the condition of the spiritual wholeness of the person, without which normal spiritual life is impossible, and ordinary life too. And then the connection becomes obvious between this theme, raised by the apostle in his letter, and the theme of persecution and confession that he touched on a little earlier. Indeed, a witness can remain a witness in a critical situation only if the spiritual wholeness of which Paul speaks was characteristic of him before as well, in ordinary life, and if his entire spiritual life in general proceeded normally and was what it ought to be in a Christian.

Confession and martyrdom are not heroic acts for which a brief emotional uplift is enough, but the culminating point of a Christian's whole life. Yet the point is not only readiness for such a culmination. After all, although every Christian is a witness of Christ and the Kingdom, not everyone is given to complete his witness by martyrdom. But every Christian is called to full life in the Kingdom, and that too cannot exist without the spiritual wholeness of which the apostle speaks. It is needed not only as an instrument of witness; it is necessary as the main, vitally important condition of abiding in the Kingdom. Vitally important in the literal sense: without it, living the life of the Kingdom is impossible. At best, a Christian who does not possess it will have to survive in the Kingdom rather than live there, breathing the breath of God with full lungs; he will breathe with difficulty, as a person breathes in thin air. At worst, the life of the Kingdom will remain for him only an abstraction or an unattainable dream. And then there can be no talk of salvation or of Christianity at all.

Judging by the first chapter of Paul's letter, his previous visits to the Corinthian church were by no means smooth. We can only guess what he means by the "griefs" caused to the Corinthian Christians during his previous visit to them. One thing is clear: the conversation was serious and, most likely, not very pleasant.

Paul nevertheless hastens to assure the Corinthian brothers that this by no means cancels or destroys the spiritual unity that binds them all as members of the one Church of Christ. The issue, of course, is not external, formal unity, but essential unity. The apostle expresses it this way: on the day of the Lord, as the first Christians called the day of the Savior's return, we, says the apostle of himself and his companions, will boast before God of you, and you of us.

And the point here is not only that Paul managed to make good Christians out of the Corinthians, whom he can present to Christ on the day of His return as evidence of the undoubted success of his earthly ministry. The point is that one can boast, in the sense in which the apostle uses this word, only of those with whom one abides in the fullness of communion. In spiritual unity.

But what about all the harsh and not very pleasant words, as one may think, spoken by Paul to the Corinthian Christians before? Evidently they did not destroy the unity mentioned above. The point is not only in the words, but also in how they are spoken: with love or with hatred. With the desire to help or with the desire to push away, assert oneself, and triumph over a defeated opponent.

The matter lies in the intention that stands behind the words, an intention positive or negative, constructive or destructive. And if words are spoken with love, they do not destroy relationships and do not violate spiritual unity, although they may cause not only discomfort but also pain. Without love, no words, even the most pleasant, create anything or establish any relationships. Therefore they are useless for the Kingdom as well: they simply do not reach it. For the Kingdom is an environment of love, and everything that has no relation to love therefore remains outside the Kingdom. With all the consequences that follow.