Paul writes that he is carrying aid to the Christians of Jerusalem and Judea, collected in the churches of Macedonia and Achaia. And for the apostle this is not simply something done along the way, as today we sometimes deliver a package to friends or to friends of our friends when going to another city on a business or private visit. For Paul, taking the donations collected for the Jerusalem church is part of his apostolic ministry. And this attitude toward such donations reminds us once again that works of mercy for Christians are not only a matter of material or social support for those to whom it is given.

In church life there is no social service in its pure form: the Church knows only spiritual ministries. And helping those who need it is no less a spiritual ministry than preaching, mission, or apostleship. This is understandable: Christian life is not divided into “spiritual” and “worldly.” Such a thing would be possible if we were one kind of people in church, another on the street, and still some third, fourth, or fifth kind at work, among acquaintances, on vacation, and in the other places where we have to be.

Nevertheless, this is often exactly how it is, and then what are called religious duties enter our life. Among these religious duties, one of the most important for Christians is considered to be “works of mercy,” or “social service.” There is nothing surprising here. If our “spiritual” life exists separately from our “worldly” life, there must necessarily be a connection between them. “Spiritual” life penetrates the “worldly,” and at this intersection there appears what we perceive as our “religious duties.” These are the duties that may be a joy to us or a burden, but that must still be performed simply because they are duties. Having performed them, we receive the right to “spiritual” life in church, to prayer, to participation in the breaking of bread, and simply to communion with God as such. If you do not perform religious duties, do not go to church!

Of course, in practice everything is not quite so: the practice of church life has long since developed mechanisms that presuppose a certain compromise between the right to communion with God and the scope of those same religious duties. But the logic still does not change; the principle of the interconnection between “spiritual” life and “worldly” life remains exactly the same.

For Paul, however, life is not divided into “spiritual” and “worldly.” To deliver the collected donations is for him not social service, but the same act of love as his whole apostolic ministry and the whole Christian path: a path where there was no division into “spiritual” and “worldly,” and therefore no religious duties that included works of mercy. There was only the Kingdom and its life, one and indivisible.

Among the parables about the Kingdom, the parables of the sower occupy a special place. In today's Gospel reading Jesus speaks of what prevents a person from entering the Kingdom. And the first obstacle on this path is the "road," the lack of attention to the words of the One who bears witness to the Kingdom (vv. 4, 19). It would seem that distraction is not characteristic of everyone. But in this case the matter is evidently attention of a special kind, that inner sensitivity which makes a person listen and stop before what he usually passes by without thinking.

In the Gospel period, words about the Kingdom and about the Messiah sounded often, and for many people, especially those living an intense religious life, they had probably already become somewhat stale. Perhaps this is precisely what moved Jesus to address the people in parables: such language always attracts attention, often forcing people to look at well-known and familiar things from an unexpected side, allowing them to see what would otherwise have remained unnoticed. But it is not enough merely to notice and turn; one must also remain faithful even when the enthusiasm of the newly converted passes and the world demands its own, so that the matter may even come to persecution (vv. 5-6, 20-21). Here feelings alone will not suffice, nor reason alone; faith not rooted in the will will hardly withstand strong external pressure, for feelings pass away and reason is pliable.

Yet there is something in the world more dangerous for spiritual life than pressure and even persecution, although compared with them this danger appears unserious: worldly cares and everyday bustle (vv. 7, 22). Can cares and bustle break those whom persecutions did not break?

But during persecutions the situation usually looks completely clear, and the will gathers itself into one by itself. Times of peace and quiet are another matter, when there seems to be no danger and one can relax, drifting with a current that promises no rapids or whirlpools ahead. Meanwhile everyday bustle quietly shifts attention to itself and, if one does not catch oneself in time, easily swallows a person whole, gradually forcing him, if not entirely to forget God and spiritual life, then at least to push them into the background. Only the one who can withstand both persecutions and everyday bustle becomes good soil that bears abundant spiritual fruit (vv. 8, 23).

What has Christ's coming given us? Salvation from evil? Yes, of course... but evil and suffering did not vanish from the world by the wave of a magic wand. Jesus Himself not only endures terrible sufferings on the Cross; He endures them innocently. And He also says that those who want to be His disciples should likewise take up their cross and follow Him. In what, then, does this salvation from evil consist?

Perhaps this is too human an approach. In one of the Gospel readings Jesus reminds us that if you have merely been freed from an evil spirit, but its place in your heart remains unoccupied, in the end something even worse will overtake you. Salvation only from what we consider bad is, alas, too little. Too little for a person who looks the truth in the face. But, fortunately, it is too little for the Creator as well.

And therefore He offers us something immeasurably better: adoption. We can enter the family of Jesus of Nazareth and become His adopted brothers and sisters. More than that, the possibility of an exceptional, essential union with Him is open to us, the same as His Mother's. To be brothers of Jesus, and therefore to be adopted by His Father and His Mother, to share His divine-humanity with Him, only one thing is required: to say to the Father as Jesus Himself says, "Not My will, but Yours be done."

Salvation from the unpleasant, the bad, the evil is a human approach. Such escapism is hardly proper to God. He does not flee from evil, but confronts it on the Cross and conquers. You may seek comfort and sweet piety, but then from the hell of violence you will go straight into the hell of hypocrisy; or you may agree to adoption by the Heavenly Father. Yes, this is a difficult path, at times painfully difficult, and your adopted Brother, Jesus, died on it. But by becoming His brother, you will also share His victory over evil. The choice between defeat, flight, and victory is yours.