The prophets spoke often about the sins and crimes of God's people. Yet their words contained not only rebuke but always hope as well. The time of Micah, a younger contemporary of Isaiah of Jerusalem, was a spiritually ambiguous age. King Hezekiah, who then ruled Judah, did much to combat pagan cults, prohibiting public worship of pagan gods in his country. Yahwism became popular, and the preaching of Micah, as well as Isaiah, contributed greatly to this.

But destroying pagan altars and sanctuaries proved far easier than changing people whose souls and hearts largely remained as they had been. Their sins remained as well. For the overwhelming majority of new believers, Yahwism amounted to magnificent religious ceremonies and cheerful festivals; they thought rarely and reluctantly about observing the commandments God had given, about the Torah. Religious enthusiasm by no means brought rapid spiritual change in society. The old sins did not release people. Habits were overcome slowly and with difficulty, even when people sincerely wanted to become different.

Here we see what the priestly books of the Pentateuch say so often: the consequences of a deliberately committed sin weigh upon a person even despite repentance, just as they weigh upon a people when the sin was committed by the whole nation. It was then revealed to the prophet that the situation could be changed only by a special, joint, and purposeful spiritual effort by God and His people. Micah says nothing about the trials awaiting the people, as Isaiah of Jerusalem does, but he understands that it will no longer be possible to overcome the consequences of the people's sins without an upheaval—perhaps a catastrophic one. Yet the prophet understands something else too: God does not need calamities for their own sake. He merely wants to give His people a chance to begin history with a clean slate, and for that the people themselves must become a clean slate. In the end, all historical upheavals are needed only for this—and so that in this new history the renewed people may succeed in welcoming the Messiah God promised them.

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.

In this episode Jesus may at first seem hard-hearted. Indeed, it is strange to see a preacher so absorbed in spreading His teaching that a crowd of admirers becomes so much dearer to him than his relatives that he is ready to trade his own Mother and brothers for them. Yes, any demagogic speaker in such a situation would look unattractive.

But when we consider the Gospel account carefully, we will have to admit that Christ's words contain no renunciation either of His Mother or of His brothers. After all, He called those who do the will of the Heavenly Father His brothers and mother. And did not Mary open herself to God with the greatest fullness? Did she not become the Mother of Christ precisely because she fulfilled the will of the Heavenly Father? The brothers are a somewhat different matter: they did not have Mary's spiritual experience and did not immediately recognize Jesus as the Christ. But the time will come when they will see and accept what is still hard for them to accept now. Then they will become brothers not only by kinship.