NOTES for Eph 5:9-19

Today the Orthodox Church celebrates the Day of the Holy Spirit. The Epistle to the Ephesians reminds us that 'the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness, righteousness, and truth' (v. 9), and calls us to 'be filled with the Spirit' (v. 18). The apostle Paul calls this new state of the human being 'light in the Lord'; the apostle John also turns to this image of light when he speaks of brotherly love among believers (1 John 2:10). In the spirit of love we are called to 'seek those who have gone astray' (Matt 18:10-14), to resolve problems in our relationships (Matt 18:15-18), and, finally, to receive God's grace in unanimous prayer in the name of Christ and in His presence, just as we were promised.

In the "Question and Answer" section you can find a question about what one must be like for the Holy Spirit to descend on a person, and the answer to that question. The verse from Ephesians that we have just read says that such "preconditions" at any rate do not include "all goodness, righteousness, and truth," since these are, on the contrary, fruits of the Spirit. So then, in order for the Spirit to descend, must one be a villain, an ungodly person, and a liar? Of course not. It is simply that without the Holy Spirit we are villains, ungodly people, and liars. We need to want very strongly to stop being that, to ask for the Spirit and wait for Him. To wait not passively but actively, confessing our sins, staying awake, watching ourselves, perceiving every deviation from goodness, righteousness, and truth in our life as an insufficient freedom for the Holy Spirit within us, and turning again to God, asking Him to give us the Holy Spirit, again and again.

Paul repeatedly reminds the Ephesian Christians that the spiritual life of a Christian is incompatible with any conscious sin. Of course, through ignorance or weakness everyone sins in one way or another, and this will continue until human nature is fully transformed. But this gives a Christian no grounds for taking sin lightly, confident that "God will forgive everything" because "in Christ every sin is forgiven."

After the coming of Christ, a person is indeed never again left alone before God with his sin. He can always ask the Savior to intervene in the situation, and then his sin ceases to be only his own problem and also becomes Christ's problem, which He resolves together with the person, taking upon Himself the consequences that otherwise would have fallen on the sinner's own head.

But even with such intervention, the situation can be changed radically only when the person repents of his sin and renounces it, not when he considers himself entitled to go on sinning in the hope that "Christ will settle everything," appealing to the fact that sin is unavoidable until a person is fully transformed. Meanwhile, judging by the apostle's words, one can think that in the Ephesian church there were also people who treated sin rather lightly. Paul addresses mainly them, reminding them that Christ's help in freeing a person from the consequences of a committed sin does not in any way remove that person's responsibility for the sin itself. One cannot continue sinning as before, living in the customary pagan way of life, and count on being able, later, at the end of one's life, to repent of everything at once and then somehow have everything work itself out.

The point is not that on the last day of earthly life it is too late to repent, but that a person who was not afraid to sin throughout his entire life will very well be unable to repent on his last day on earth. Of course, a miracle is always possible, but it is hardly worth rejecting the path of righteousness and sinning in the hope of a miracle at the end of life. This is what Paul reminds those Ephesian brothers of his who either forgot what he had told them or never knew anything of the kind.

Today the Orthodox Church celebrates the Day of the Holy Spirit. The Epistle to the Ephesians reminds us that 'the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness, righteousness, and truth' (v. 9), and calls us to 'be filled with the Spirit' (v. 18). The apostle Paul calls this new state of the human being 'light in the Lord'; the apostle John also turns to this image of light when he speaks of brotherly love among believers (1 John 2:10). In the spirit of love we are called to 'seek those who have gone astray' (Matt 18:10-14), to resolve problems in our relationships (Matt 18:15-18), and, finally, to receive God's grace in unanimous prayer in the name of Christ and in His presence, just as we were promised.

It is very important that today, on the day of the Holy Spirit, the Church reminds us of the Lord's promise to be among us when two or three of us gather in His name. At the time when Christ spoke these words, the apostles hardly understood how the Teacher could always be present with all those who gather "in His name." Until they learned this and were convinced of it with their own eyes, through their own experience, these words remained a mystery to them. Christ, foreseeing this, still sent the apostles this "package," which reaches its addressee in time.

And precisely on the day of Pentecost this package was delivered: "But the Comforter, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, will teach you all things and remind you of everything that I have said to you" (John 14:26). On that day the Spirit gave the apostles the sense of the living presence of their Teacher among them, just as real as it had been when they walked together along the roads of Palestine. Perhaps even more real: the Spirit "provided" His presence both among them and in each one of them at the same time. For they were truly gathered in His name.

It is possible that, while awaiting the descent of the Spirit, the apostles were doing exactly what Paul lists in the Letter to the Ephesians (Eph. 5:9-19). After all, this is a concrete embodiment of the words "in His name"; it is truly what is worth doing while waiting for the Spirit. In any case, the apostles truly took Christ's words to heart and remained together. And their shared disposition, their faithful waiting during the ten days from the Ascension, was what the Lord wanted from them. It was the one step in response to which He does far more: He pours out His grace on us.

The words warning us not to despise these little ones are spoken immediately after the warning about the danger of stumbling blocks. But are only children among the little ones mentioned? If Christ tells adults to become like children, then all kinds of people in any age group can be little ones.

In advising us not to despise anyone, He gives us a very difficult commandment. Many of us are used to treating with contempt those who do not suit us. It is very convenient to feel that you are better than other people, those unpleasant people. More than that, many of us are used to "improving ourselves morally" by comparing ourselves with "bad people" and looking good against their background.

But here too the Lord sees and acts differently. Those whom we habitually place below ourselves may turn out to be much more precious to Him than some "proper" people, precisely because we have increased the pain of the rejected with our "proper" blows.

And let us remind the comfortable people whose arithmetic cannot make sense of Christ's rule, according to which one may leave the whole vast flock in order to save a single lost sheep, that no one has a guarantee that he will never become that sheep. And then the Good Shepherd, leaving everything, will go to save him too. After all, He wants every last one to be saved.

The messianic ideas traditional for the Gospel era presupposed rather strict demands made on those seeking the messianic Kingdom. It was assumed that only the righteous would receive the right to enter there. And the Messiah Himself, of course, would choose only righteous people for His closest circle. There could be no place for sinners around Him. At the same time it was understood by itself that such righteous people exist. This is not surprising: righteousness in this case was understood in an exclusively religious context, as conformity to the norms and requirements accepted in the religious community, first of all the requirements of ritual purity. Ritual purity presupposed, of course, abstinence from sin. But everyone understood that there are no perfect people in the world.

Abstinence from sin presupposed observing the commandments given by God as far as this is possible for fallen man. But even here the measure of righteousness differed: some tried to fulfill everything scrupulously, missing not a single detail in the numerous moral and ritual prescriptions, while others limited themselves to the minimum. Those who fulfilled, as it seemed to them, everything exactly looked down on the rest, being sure that if anyone had the Kingdom guaranteed, it was they, the righteous.

But God, like the Messiah sent by Him, sees the situation completely differently. For God there is no difference between "great" and "small," "full" and "incomplete" righteousness. Righteousness is not a property of a person, but his state. And this state is determined by God, not by man. It is God's action that makes the righteous person righteous, not his own efforts. Of course, much is required of the person in this case too, but righteousness for a person is still possible only as God's gift. Therefore the Messiah comes into the world first of all as Savior, not as Judge. Of course, His very appearance in the world is already judgment.

Some accept Him, others reject Him. This acceptance or rejection determines a person's fate in eternity. But God does not want anyone's destruction. He sends His Son into the world not in order to condemn as many sinners as possible, but so that as many people as possible may be saved from the evil in which the world lies and enter the Kingdom. There are no sinless people, and for fallen people there is no sense in measuring themselves against one another by a righteousness that does not belong to them.

All the more because neither God nor the Savior sent by Him is in any way impressed by this righteousness. Likewise, the sinfulness of fallen man does not shock the Messiah: He knows what world He has come into and what people He will have to deal with. But He came not to judge these people, but to save them. For the Kingdom is for all who seek, not for the righteous alone. For the sake of the Kingdom even the most notorious sinner can set out on the path of righteousness. But righteousness that does not have the Kingdom in view is a spiritual dead end. A path leading nowhere.

It’s so simple and obvious: if a problem arose between you two – you should first of all solve it together. But why do we have the opposite: we are ready to discuss our damaged relations with anyone, but only not with the person with whom we should have? We are maybe afraid of a direct conversation, that it may reveal instability of our own position, and finally – the justice of our “opponent”? And maybe we do not like the situation that if it turns out that we are right we will have to forgive – and no one will know about our generosity, do we? One way or other, with the “help” of all these rumors and gossips we try to improve our “rating”, our popularity in the others’ eyes through humiliation and condemnation of our brothers – and thus we lose them. The risk of losing frightens in direct conversation, but after all, we should not forget that the possible “win” is great: we can get our brother back.

The Lord Jesus Christ tells this to His disciples the first time in Matthew 16:19. The Church in the person of Apostle Peter, who then just confessed Christ as the Son of the Living God, is given there what belongs only to God: the power to forgive people’s sins. The Lord Jesus gives here again to His disciples – the first Christian community – the power to forgive sins, and emphasizes that forgiveness given by the Church is been fulfilled not only on earth, but also in heaven, that is in eternity.

It’s understandable and logical, when things done by the Lord in heaven reflect in people’s earthly life. But here we can see that the Lord wanted to establish a different relationship in the Church: what the Church accomplishes here extends till heaven. The church delivers to people the divine forgiveness and then the sin, confessed in the church’s sacrament of penance is forgiven, and exists no more.

Usually we think that the Lord speaks about power as a right or ability, a power to give forgiveness. But he speaks of an entirely different nature of power in the Kingdom of Heaven. Rather, His words must be understood as that He entrusts the church a service, which the essence is to impart His forgiveness. This is the purport of the existence of the Church and its sacraments, because Christ Himself gives forgiveness through the apostles’ hands.

There is again a very important meaning of these words: terrestrial time of our lives is priceless, we can build relationships with people only here, while we still have time. Whilst we live on earth, we can try to rectify something, to forgive and to open our heart to those who have offended us, to ask for forgiveness ourselves to those we have offended too. Therewith we will die with the spiritual “assets” we have accumulated. Well, if we die with unforgiveness in our hearts, how can we find ourselves in the Kingdom of forgiveness and love?

These words boggle imagination. One would like to ask again: is it indeed – “anything we shall ask, it shall be done”? And if...

The Lord speaks about every prayer that the Heavenly Father knows our needs, we should seek first His Kingdom and make the request: “Thy will be done”. There are two things fundamentally important to us in the words of the Lord. First, he talks about our human harmony with each other. This turns out to be so important that the Lord promises to hear without fail the consonant prayer of a few people. This explains in practice why Christians value so much the Church: because we ask together precisely here. And also, this means in practice that you can participate in the needs of others through prayer.

Secondly, the Lord speaks about His presence. To the question “Where is God?” or “Where is the Kingdom of Heaven?”, the Gospel gives such a simple answer: it is where people agree to be together, where they share the life and needs of each other. And this is simultaneously an empirical fact and God’s promise in which we can trust.

How important our agreement with each other happens to be from God’s point of view. Jesus promises the fulfillment of a joint request without any additional conditions. He seems to be unaware of such things like conspiracy or collective egoism. Apparently, He understands what prayer is somewhat differently than us: for Him, it is the relationships with the Father – relations of such completeness and such proximity that the congruence of these relations between the two can only mean true love between them. But as it’s said in one Christian song: “where love is, there the Lord is”.

How to know what pleases to God? How should one behave in order not to be guilty in front of Him? These questions are not simple and more again, they are far from being futile, because in our life several things depend on the practical answer to these questions.

The apostle Paul in the epistle to Ephesians uses a famous verb translated into English as "proving". It means indeed "to examine, to verify, to authenticate ". Thus, the apostle calls us to walk, as the children of light, by examining our works, verifying if they will be acceptable in front of the Face of the Almighty.

All these words form a single sentence in the Greek text, and it is important. The verification must be based on criteria, that is why the apostle calls the essential criterion: fruits of the Holy Spirit. Thus all which can be called fruits of the action of the Holy Spirit in our life is pleasant unto God. It is particularly every goodness, righteousness and truth.

Maybe the apostle tries to pass on with these words something, that can’t be express by words. The modern language indicates that by a rather vague term "good". It is in particular what we call "good", its increase (and, thus, the decrease of evil) which becomes for the apostle Paul the criterion on which our works and our life are acceptable unto God.

How can one know what is pleasing to God? How should one act so as not to be guilty before Him? These questions are not simple and, most importantly, far from idle, for very much in our life depends on the practical answer to them. In the letter to the Ephesians the apostle Paul uses a remarkable verb, translated into Russian as "test." It really does mean "to test, check, find out the truth about something." This verb was used when checking recruits' fitness for military service; in those times there was no medical commission, and they checked the ability to throw a spear and the like. This means the apostle calls us to act as children of light, checking our actions "for fitness," checking whether they will be pleasing before the face of the Almighty.

In the Greek text all these words form one sentence, and this is important. A test must be based on criteria, and therefore the apostle names the main criterion: the fruits of the Holy Spirit. Thus, what is pleasing to God is what can be called the fruits of the action of the Holy Spirit in our life. Chiefly this is all goodness, righteousness, and truth. Perhaps by these closely related words the apostle is trying to convey something that cannot fit into words. Modern language designates this with the rather vague term "good." Precisely what we call good, its growth and therefore the diminishing of evil, becomes for the apostle Paul the criterion of whether our actions and life itself are pleasing to God.

As we see, for Paul the Christian life is a life in this Kingdom, which the Savior brought to the world. That is why he calls the Christians "the children of light": it is doubtless about the light, with which was linked even in the pre-Christian era, and with which came along God's presence. And since the Kingdom is penetrated by this presence, it is penetrated by the light. The distinctive features of the man living the life of the Kingdom, the apostle sees goodness, righteousness and truth. With regard to the righteousness, no special question appears: because life in the Kingdom is inconceivable without righteousness. Of course it doesn’t mean at all that we can become righteous by ourselves, without God's help, only by respecting certain standards and rules, even the most brilliant.

The righteousness of man is always only the reflection of God's righteousness, and righteous would of course be considered not the sinless man (there are simply not such persons in the world, except the Savior), but the man, who knows how to follow God and witness of Him in spite of his own sinfulness. But all this was known even before the coming into the world of the Christ. With goodness everything is not also unambiguous: the Greek corresponding word is quite universal, it can indicate everything good in general that is met in the world and in the human nature. But prevails in its semantic field the idea of kindness, quality, as in that Jewish word, which it is the equivalent.

It is the same "goodness", that was appropriate to the world at the creation, when God, creating the world, looked on what He created, being persuaded that it is "completely good" (or "very good", according to the translation King James Version). It disappeared, ceased being appropriate to the world after the fall. But there is no limp in the Kingdom, and each living the life, gets rid of it, and above all as regards of his own human nature. Before it was impossible for everybody, even for the righteous man, now this possibility is opened to each, who joins the life of the Kingdom.

And the fullness of life is also inseparable from the truth, which becomes now not a speculation, of which it was formerly, but a reality. Of course, the ideal of righteousness existed always, and for a long time before the coming into the world of the Savior, but it remained always inaccessible. Now the ideal became reality: it is not accidentally that Jesus speaks about Himself as the way, the truth and the life: He carries in Him the Kingdom, through Him we can join the Kingdom, He is the plenitude of the life and the personified truth, the personified ideal of righteousness, and in union with Him, every Christian can and has to become such a personified ideal of righteousness. Paul calls to that the addressees of his message: because he understands that Christian life is possible only as the life of the Kingdom in all its fullness.

When speaking about spiritual life, Paul never tires of repeating that the fullness of the Kingdom is incompatible with any sin (vv. 3-7). Such persistent reminders of this obvious fact were evidently connected with the fact that for many Christians (and, perhaps, not only in Ephesus) it was not obvious at all. Judging by some of the apostle's instructions in his letter to the Ephesian Christians, they were evidently already prepared to accept as normal that sin would remain, to some extent, part of their life (vv. 1-3, 15-21).

This was connected to the fact that many in the Ephesian church looked at Christianity not as life in the Kingdom but as a new religion, perhaps as a distinctive form of Judaism for Gentiles. In that case one would have to make peace with the presence of sin in the life of the faithful, because there are no sinless people, and Judaism never required the impossible from a person. It required only the absolute exclusion of sin committed consciously and voluntarily, not every sin in general. The latter was an unattainable ideal toward which one could and should strive, but which could not be demanded of anyone as the norm of life.

Apparently the Christians of Ephesus looked at the matter in the same way, accepting as a given the sins of some of their brothers. Paul, however, understands perfectly that Christianity is not a new religion at all, but precisely life in the Kingdom, and therefore he insists on the ideal that in the Kingdom can and must become reality. He knows that for a Christian sin means not only deviation from the path of righteousness, but also the loss of the Kingdom, which is not always noticeable at once only because the Kingdom has not yet been fully revealed in our transforming but still untransformed world. The one who sins truly finds himself in that outer darkness which the Savior Himself contrasts with the Kingdom, and if he does not always realize it, that is only because he still has the opportunity to avoid both the final choice that he will have to make at the Last Judgment and the full consequences of the sin he has committed, consequences that remain hidden from a person until the end of time.

But Paul calls his readers to look at the situation through the eyes of a person for whom the end of time has already arrived, and to evaluate each of their actions accordingly, so as to become inhabitants of the Kingdom in full measure here and now.

Today's reading is devoted to one of the most important Gospel themes: the forgiveness of sins. Both the meaning of the parable and the meaning of the teaching come down to one thing: God forgives us our sins only if we ourselves are ready to forgive the sins of those who sin against us.

Sometimes this demand is taken as a call to forgive everything without distinction. But on closer reading of the text, it turns out that this is far from the case. After all, forgiving everything without distinction often means that the offended person simply does not notice the sin committed against him or pays no attention to it. Sometimes in Christian circles there are even calls to learn to ignore the sins of one's neighbor, including those directed against us. In practice, however, such ignoring usually sooner or later leads to an emotional explosion, in which all the accumulated grievances spill out so completely that no trace remains of the appearance of peace.

Jesus does not call us to ignore sin at all; on the contrary, He considers it necessary to call things by their names, openly and, if needed, in the presence of witnesses, and sometimes publicly, in the church assembly (vv. 15-17). Of course, such an explanation can lead not only to reconciliation but also to a break; yet in any case the relationship between people will be clarified, and only then will forgiveness and restoration of relationships become possible.

It is no accident that the teaching also mentions the assembly of the faithful (vv. 19-20), because it is impossible as long as relationships have not been restored. But they cannot be restored by failing to notice or by ignoring sin; this is possible only through repentance on one side and forgiveness of the sin on the other.

And this is not surprising, because what is at stake here is spiritual life, where relationships come to the fore, both between people and between individual people and God. To fail to notice sin, to pretend that nothing has happened between brothers, would mean building these relationships on a lie from the very start, and that would be a serious spiritual error.

But no less an error would be to absolutize sin, to treat it as something that from now on has made normal relationships between brothers forever impossible. Of course, in our still untransformed world the consequences of sin committed consciously and deliberately were indeed considered irreversible; but we no longer live in former times, we live in the age of the approaching and unfolding Kingdom, and now sin, even when committed consciously, cannot have irreversible consequences if the one who committed it sincerely repents of what he has done. And if we live in the Kingdom, we will be able to see the person behind his sin, and therefore we will be able to forgive him; if not, then a sin committed against us once will destroy our relationship with him forever.

But we can count on the forgiveness of our own sins only in the Kingdom. God does not require us to forgive our neighbors' sins because without this we will not be good enough for Him and for the Kingdom; rather, by failing to show readiness to forgive our neighbor everything and begin the relationship with him anew, we refuse the Kingdom, where everything begins with a clean slate, including for us ourselves.

The parable emphasizes the immeasurability of our mutual debts and God's forgiveness: ten thousand talents is a million times more than a hundred denarii, and there is simply no such numeral in the Greek language. It is as if, having received an apartment as a gift, we were to take a ruble away from some beggar, though even more grand comparisons could be invented. On the other hand, a debt of a hundred denarii is also a sum: the offense inflicted by those close to us can be very bitter.

We all owe one another something; all of us, in one way or another, hurt others and are hurt. But when God enters the tangled, complicated ball of our mutual grievances and old debts, He disrupts the whole moral and material balance of our human relationships. This happens when, in the face of misfortune, our disagreements and quarrels grow pale, or when on a deathbed life acquires such seriousness that grievances and the wounds we have inflicted on one another come to seem absurd.

How are we to understand the words that we need to become like children in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven? Surely everyone who is at least somewhat familiar with little children knows that they are by no means angels, though their angels do stand before the throne of the Most High in heaven. Perhaps the point is precisely their smallness, defenselessness, and dependence on their parents, since the Lord speaks specifically about humbling oneself (v. 4). They are especially vulnerable to temptation, deception, and the action of the world's evil, and therefore they so need God's love and protection. Apparently this very kind of relationship with God is the realization of the Kingdom of Heaven.

The evangelist connects the words about the children we must become in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven with a small parable about a shepherd and a lost sheep, and this immediately puts everything in its place. The point is not only that we become weak, defenseless, and dependent, although at times we really do need to feel like children before God; Christ is clearly speaking here about a "new childhood," that is, about a second birth - not only about feeling like children in comparison with God, but actually becoming children of the Heavenly Father (and here any childishness is out of place; this calling is too high).

Understood this way, the familiar commandment "be like children" becomes an incomprehensible call to become participants in God's life, to become beloved sons and daughters in the beloved only-begotten Son - the path opened before us in Christ's Resurrection...

The question of what it means to be like children has concerned Christians for many centuries. This is understandable: it is a necessary condition for entering the Kingdom. Most often, people mention childlike innocence and childlike naivete. In reality, however, innocence and naivete are not so simple.

Augustine already observed that children are by no means innocent; they simply do not yet have the strength and skill to sin "like adults," but it is impossible to speak of their sinlessness, or even of their lesser sinfulness compared with adults, because all great sinners naturally grow out of little ones if they do not try to resist their own sinfulness. Naivete is not simple either: children usually understand much more than they tell adults, though, as a rule, in their own way, within the framework of their own logic and their own ideas about the world.

There is, however, one essential difference between children and adults, at least up to a certain age: children are usually little concerned with how they look in the eyes of those around them and what place they occupy in the "adult" world. During this period of their life, children simply ignore the reference points of the "adult" world, while at the same time understanding that it is an objective reality. Adults usually perceive such a child's existence as an ongoing game, more important to the child than the life adults consider "real."

For the child at this time, what is important is what he himself considers real and genuine, not what is conventionally considered so according to generally accepted rules, in which adults themselves often do not quite believe. This childlike attitude toward life is a priceless treasure for everyone who strives for normal, full spiritual life. Normal spiritual life is impossible if one does not live by what one recognizes as genuine, authentic, and real.

As we grow up, to a greater or lesser degree we learn to give up what we ourselves consider real and authentic in favor of what is conventionally considered such, and we pass from reality into illusion, in whose reality we strive with all our strength to convince ourselves and others. To be like children means to refuse such self-deception. This, of course, is only the first step on the path to the Kingdom, to authentic spiritual life, but without the first step there will be no later steps, and therefore no path.

The question of evil's origin and nature in the world has long occupied and tormented humanity. Hardly anyone could have told us more about it than Jesus, who was to confront the world's evil. Yet He does not say very much to His disciples about the devil and the world's evil; He tells them only that the devil is defeated and that the day will come when this becomes clearly visible to everyone.

Instead, He speaks to His disciples and followers at length and in detail about how to resist evil in everyday life. One of this life's most serious temptations regarding evil deeds and actions is the temptation to imagine oneself powerless before the evil being done. The issue is not even whether it is possible to stop those who do evil, but whether refraining from evil is pointless. The logic of evil suggests that your participation or nonparticipation will change nothing: if not you, then someone else. By trying to resist evil, even simply by refusing to participate in it, you only make your own life more difficult without accomplishing anything at all, for there will be no less evil in the world.

This logic seems temptingly simple, and it would be conclusive if the untransformed world were the only and final reality. Fortunately, it is not. A person who refuses to participate in evil has good reason to act as he does. The issue here is not only, or even chiefly, the world lying in evil, but the person and his spiritual destiny—whether he will be able to enter the Kingdom or remain in “outer darkness.” Even if a situation in the fallen world is indeed often beyond human control—“it must needs be that offenses come”—a person's own choice is always within his power. Jesus apparently gives no weight at all to what is called environmental influence, social determinism, and other similar justifications for the evil a person commits.

Of course, this does not mean that He fails to take account of the situation in which a person must make his choice. He says only that one must not consent to evil or inwardly surrender to it, accepting it as normal simply because it is normal in the fallen world. The norm of the fallen world is no norm but a perversion, and everyone who agrees to become a conduit for the powers of evil must remember this, for “woe to that man by whom the offense cometh.” It may certainly happen that even by refusing to participate in evil, a person will be unable to prevent that evil. But he can keep evil from entering his own heart and thus preserve it for the Kingdom.