Jesus' words about blasphemy against the Spirit seem mysterious. But they probably seem so to us because our perception of the Gospel text is often overlaid with theological models—in particular, Trinitarian models, especially when the text mentions the Holy Spirit. Yet in Gospel times no Trinitarian theology existed, of course, and God's Spirit was viewed more from a practical spiritual standpoint—as an element of concrete spiritual and mystical experience, and above all prophetic experience. In the context of prophetic experience, the Spirit is experienced as the entirely real breath of God entering the human heart and renewing a person from within. There could be no mistake here: either God breathed in the heart or He did not. Since that was the nature of the matter, there could be no question of confusion or misunderstanding.

When theological theories and concepts are involved, mistakes are possible, of course. One can even fail to recognize the Messiah in the Messiah. In principle that too can happen, and not necessarily through a person's ill will; the reasons may vary greatly. But when God's breath and its action obvious to everyone are involved, there can be no mistake. Only someone who does not want to see can fail to see this action.

If the refusal to see also becomes aggressive, so that a person begins to revile God and His works, such a position naturally becomes a spiritual dead end for him. This is not because God is easily offended, but because rejecting God's breath automatically means rejecting the Kingdom that this breath permeates from its center to its farthest reaches. And rejecting the Kingdom clearly leads to rejecting life and salvation—a rejection about which nothing can be done, because it is made freely, without any compulsion.

Paul’s words about authority, which cannot fail to be from God, often provoke inner resistance in readers of his letter. It is all too obvious that representatives of authority often use their “swords” not at all for good works, even in the sense in which they themselves understand good, and as for God’s laws there is no need to speak of them. Meanwhile the apostle’s words are far from so unambiguous, even if one approaches them formally and tears Paul’s statement about “authority not from God” out of context. In any case, they certainly cannot be used to support any particular authority: if every authority really is from God, then one can speak of the legitimacy of a particular authority and particular rulers only so long as that authority exists and those rulers remain in power. And in the event, for example, of a coup or a revolution, the new authority will have to be acknowledged, since it cannot fail to be from God.

Of course, supporters of the overthrown authority will speak of illegality, of rebellion, perhaps even of violating God’s commandment, but... as the poet said on this occasion, “rebellion cannot end in success: otherwise it is called by another name.” And if that is so, then the new authority too is “from God,” just like the former one. But in that case it is obvious that God does not directly support any authority. He simply allows it to exist, every kind and variety of it, depending on the situation and on the spiritual condition of the people that produces that authority. In such a case theologians speak not of God’s will but of His permission: not of what He supports, but of what He allows to exist without taking part directly in the process of its existence by His will. He allows it sometimes to avoid a worse alternative, and sometimes simply because there is no alternative.

In general, this attitude toward the state and state authority can be considered broadly biblical: the Bible knows no good authority at all. Authority can only be bad or very bad. Sometimes, with God’s help, it is possible to bring it about that in a particular place and at a particular time authority is not very bad, but no one has ever managed to make it good from God’s point of view. And still, there is no point in making political struggle an end in itself. For supporters of political messianism, of whom there were more than enough when the letter was written, this approach of the apostle was unacceptable: they were convinced precisely that the Messiah had to become an earthly king, and therefore religious-political struggle was for them something self-evident, as was the war for the Kingdom in which it would someday inevitably end.

For Paul, however, it was obvious that a war for the Kingdom against earthly authorities is absurd, because the Kingdom had already entered the world without any war, above all political barriers. But this does not remove the need to make a choice when, in conscience, one cannot obey earthly authority. It is no accident that the apostle says there is sense in obeying earthly authority not out of fear, but precisely for conscience’s sake, that is, when conscience does not condemn such obedience. But if something is done against conscience, obedience has no meaning: God does not need such obedience, for it then becomes an empty formality and only destroys that inner wholeness of the person without which normal spiritual life is impossible.

As long as obedience to earthly authority does not hinder Christian life, it is the most proper choice. But if such obedience destroys Christian life by forcing one to act against conscience, it loses all meaning and becomes spiritually destructive. This position is entirely understandable: the purpose of Christian life is to abide in the Kingdom, and everything that hinders such abiding must be removed from life, whether it is loyalty to earthly authority or the absence of such loyalty.

As can be seen, the main task of many representatives of the Pharisaic brotherhood, if not all of them, became to explain the miracles and healings performed by Jesus in such a way as not to recognize Him as a true Servant of God. Everything was brought into play, including utterly absurd explanations, as though Jesus, in healing, resorted to the help of some dark powers. It was not hard for Jesus to answer such accusations by emphasizing their obvious absurdity. But the issue was, of course, not the accusations themselves. The issue was the position of the accusers, and Jesus, of course, understood this perfectly. It is no accident that He said: "Whoever does not gather with Me scatters."

The issue, in essence, was not concrete accusations but the Kingdom. Jesus says directly to His accusers: if I cast out unclean spirits by the power of the breath of God, then the Kingdom has reached you, and now your further fate depends only on you; it will not be possible to remain neutral here. The moment of choice has arrived, the one some modern philosophers call existential: there is no escaping it, and it will determine the whole further life of a person. There is one Messiah, and one Kingdom.

This is not a theological or religious question, nor even a worldview question, but a spiritual and practical one. One can accept the Kingdom and live by its life, but then one must also accept the One who brought it into the world, and not define the possibility of such acceptance or rejection by any religious or theological criteria. Everything is simple: it is enough to see whether the Kingdom is here or not. And if it is here, to accept it as a fact, without trying to force it into any existing framework. Then the lives of those who accept it become part of the Kingdom: they "gather with Jesus."

If, however, despite everything, a person rejects the Kingdom, that rejection becomes the choice that determines his life, and not simply a theological or religious position he has chosen. Then the Kingdom is not for him, and he is not for the Kingdom. And then, according to the Savior's words, "whoever does not gather with Me scatters."