"And the Lord said: Because this people draws near to Me with their mouth, and honors Me with their lips, while their heart is far from Me, and their reverence before Me is the study of human commandments..." In these words, which the Lord addresses to us today, there is much bitterness, much bitter truth. It is not for nothing that we know them so well from the lips of Jesus. Yet the wording of the Synodal Translation states part of this truth less distinctly and threateningly than some modern translations, say, into English. What, it would seem, is bad about "the study of human commandments," as the Synodal Translation writes, since that is the direct subject of all secular humanities?

But, of course, the point is something else. And to understand this, let us turn to two other translations: the New American Standard Bible and the New Jerusalem Bible. These two translations read as follows. The first: And their reverence for Me consists of tradition learned by rote ("and their worship of Me is only a memorized tradition"). The second: and reverence for Me, as far as they are concerned, is nothing but human commandment, a lesson memorized ("and their worship of Me, as far as they understand it, is nothing more than the carrying out of human regulations, a memorized lesson").

That is what is really at issue. And it is infinitely important to feel this with all our faith. For precisely this rote memorizing, this reading off, this figuring out the finer points of what is "proper," what is "required," when it is "required," all these endless "may I or may I not" questions that we hear continually in the Church, make our heart "far from God." Our discipleship must not be the discipleship of a straight-A crammer, or a "botanist," as Russian schoolchildren and students call such people among themselves. And why did the word "botanist" take root so firmly? Apparently because, from the point of view of people not yet quite grown up, children or half-children, botany is the least creative science, where one has to know an endless number of names of various plants.

In reality, of course, this is not so; ask the monk Mendel. Still, we must not have this kind of relationship with God and the Church. Let us have learned the lesson a little imperfectly; when we are called to the board, we will add creativity and love to our imperfect, underlearned knowledge, and everything will be wonderful. And the Teacher will be glad.

Abraham is 75 years old. However one regards that number, he is plainly already at an unsuitable age to pull up stakes and go into the unknown. If we remember other examples, Peter is over forty, an age when it is considered that a person should have everything settled. John, on the other hand, is far too young to decide anything.

Whoever we look at, there is no age suitable for answering the voice of God. We can never be responsible enough, wise enough, good enough to get up and go to the mountain, to another land, into complete uncertainty, in order to see what it is not yet possible even to speak about.

What could a historian tell us about Abraham's migration? He could tell us that in the age of the Patriarchs many Semitic tribes migrated west, settling across the broad dry steppe that stretched from the western borders of Mesopotamia to the eastern coast of the Mediterranean Sea. That Abraham was certainly not the first leader who led his fellow tribesmen to Palestine. That in antiquity many people heard the voices of gods and spirits, and not so rarely, and listened to these voices. That, of course, when a person is already past seventy, beginning a new life and setting out on a not very long but very dangerous journey was still rather late; one could decide on such a thing only under special circumstances.

But no historian will tell us about the most important thing, for historical sources are silent about this most important thing. This is not surprising: the main thing is hidden deep in the heart of Abraham, who, hearing the voice of a God still unknown to him, believed and went where this unknown God called him. He went, fully understanding that no one guaranteed him anything: he still had to become better acquainted with the One who had called him in order to understand with whom he was dealing. And here everything depended only on Abraham's own choice. God forces him to nothing; He only calls him to follow. Could Abraham have said "no" to God? Of course he could, for a person is free. But then, when saying "the people of God," we would have in mind another people with another history.