NOTES for Rom 2:1-11; Luk 11:42-46

Returning to the image of the two ways, the way of righteousness and the way of ungodliness, the apostle further develops the theme of universalism that he began in his reflections on natural knowledge of God and on the "natural Torah." He speaks of things that would appear self-evident, reminding his readers that one should not condemn others for sins from which one is not free oneself (vv. 1-2). In the letter, as we can see, he is speaking about people who test God's patience in precisely this way (vv. 3-8). And from the context it becomes clear that this condemnation had formally religious grounds: those who condemned others set themselves against others on the basis of belonging either to the Jewish people or to the Church. The first is more plausible, judging by the apostle's equalizing in righteousness "Jews" and "Greeks" (vv. 9-11), that is, Jews and Gentiles. Of course, such religious pride in no way justified before God those who gave themselves over to it; it only added one more sin to the sins they were already committing.

But the issue was not only hypocrisy and the vain hope that belonging to the Jewish people would in itself prove to be a kind of indulgence. The issue was the very understanding of righteousness held by those who took this position. For them, evidently, righteousness was inseparable from belonging to a particular national and religious community, so that those who belonged to it should by definition be judged by God according to some special, perhaps gentler, laws. Paul, however, from the very beginning sees righteousness exclusively in the context of a person's relationship with God. For him the Torah is universal; it is given to everyone regardless of national or religious belonging and is not the exclusive property of any religious community.

A Gentile can follow the Torah, and then he will find Christ and enter the Kingdom, although of course it is easier for a Jew to do this, since he studies the Torah from childhood. But if a Jew violates the Torah, the demand made of him will not be less than that made of a Gentile, but greater, although a Gentile who has had the experience of natural revelation will also answer for the evil deeds he committed, deeds he knew were evil. Paul has no doubt that the Kingdom Christ brought into the world is one for all. But then righteousness too must be one for all. And so must the Torah.

The list of “depravities of mind” in the Letter to the Romans is impressive. Perhaps we do not find all of them in ourselves, but we will certainly find some. The apostle Paul says that the voice of conscience condemns all people, regardless of their “religion.” This concerns not so much deeds as an inner orientation toward sin; Jesus says the same thing in the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus also emphasizes the importance of remaining faithful within our existing relationships rather than seeking new ones. All our indecency and unfaithfulness evaporate when true love moves us.

In denouncing sins, Paul points to the danger for the one who denounces: he risks sinking into the very same sins that he denounces in those around him. And all the more should people who do the very same things they have undertaken to denounce not judge the sins of others. In fact, a person often tends to accuse others precisely of the sins to which he himself is inclined.

Many people might object to this by saying that they condemn because they themselves are not like that. But let us remember how easily Peter fell in a way he did not suppose himself capable of. Persistence in sins, of which Paul writes, may show itself, among other things, in an unwillingness to see one's own sins.

One way of resisting one's own sinfulness can be constancy in good works, and Paul does not simply call for doing them from time to time, but writes specifically about constant doing. Is this possible for human beings? Generally speaking, no. But "what is impossible with men is possible with God" (Luke 18:27).

Paul's words that the one that judges others, has nothing to defend himself (it is in particular like that can be translated literally this Greek word, which in the translation King James Version is transmitted as "inexcusable"), remind the words of the Savior about the Judgment, that each will be judged in the same way he judges the neighbor. But the apostle accentuates here one concrete aspect of the problem connected to the fact that only the one who does not commit what the defendant is charged has the morale right to judge others. At first sight, there is nothing here which could prevent the judgment and the condemnation. Indeed, not all people on earth are thieves, murderers, debauchees or blasphemers.

But Paul, as we see, has another Christian vision on righteousness, which is required from the man, pretending for the Kingdom (and every Christian pretends to it by definition) complete freedom from sin. Of course, according to the not transformed world such kind of request loses any sense. In practice it would end simply in the impunity justified by the principle emitted by Dostoevsky in the mouth of one of his heroes, saying that "everyone is guilty before everyone". That sounds good, but in practice "everyone before everyone" usually means "nobody owes anything before any body". The world not transformed admits the evaluation not of man, but only his concrete act, and asks in particular for such evaluation, an evaluation of a concrete sin or crime committed by man. But the Torah supposes all the same that such an evaluation is given by the righteous man.

And for Paul righteousness is in particular the freedom from sin, because he speaks about the Kingdom, and not about the not transformed world. And nobody of those who seek for the Kingdom cannot boast of such a freedom, because seek for it fallen people. And if we evaluate man and his works from the point of view of the Kingdom, from the point of view that who and to what extent is ready to enter there, it will simply not remain those worthy. Except, of course the Christ Himself, Who came, however, not to judge, but to save. That is why the apostle says that should not judge others the one who commits the same sin of which he condemns. In the Kingdom can judge only the one who has no sin. For others it is better to be more modest. And do not think about the sins of others, but about one’s own salvation.

Reasoning about judgment and condemnation, Paul proceeds from the same thing as the Savior Himself, who called His followers to refrain from judging and condemning their neighbors. The point here is not that we are unable to see another person's sin. The point is that none of us, as human beings, is able to evaluate another person's life in all its fullness. One of the great teachers of the Torah, Hillel, who lived roughly two centuries before the Savior's coming, said: do not judge your neighbor until you yourself have been in his situation. He was speaking only about evaluating concrete actions, but even here he was very cautious and understood that, for an adequate evaluation, one must know the situation in all its fullness and from within. And Christianity is the life of the Kingdom and life in the Kingdom.

And the judgment of which Paul speaks, like the one of which Jesus Himself speaks, is judgment in the Kingdom over an inhabitant of the Kingdom. Absolute judgment. It cannot exist apart from Christ Himself, and even then only at the end of time. For only He alone can see the whole life of a person in all its fullness, and not before the moment when the person himself puts the final point in it; and the final point in any case will be put no earlier than the day of the Last Judgment.

So it follows that any other evaluation of a person's concrete act in one situation or another can be only an evaluation, not a judgment. A qualification of a crime, if it is truly a crime, but not a verdict. This is also because the principle "be in your neighbor's skin before judging" remains in force for Christians. But in this case it means not only being in his situation with respect to a concrete life circumstance, but also being in the fullness of the life of the Kingdom in order to evaluate everything adequately: after all, the issue is an evaluation of a person living in two worlds, in the world not yet transfigured and in the Kingdom at the same time. We usually have no problems with the untransfigured world, but problems may well arise with the fullness of the Kingdom.

The principle here is simple: let the one who is without sin judge. Otherwise the one judging will himself be judged according to the logic of the fallen world, not according to the logic of the Kingdom. The very world where there is no forgiveness for consciously committed sin, but only eternal punishment for it. The point here is not some vindictiveness in God, but that, choosing one or another point of view, one or another way of looking at a person and his life, we thereby choose the measure of the fullness of our own existence. Or, more precisely, having chosen one or another measure of the fullness of our own existence, we decide to evaluate in one way or another the actions of those nearby. And precisely this choice becomes the choice of destruction or salvation. It determines whether in the end we find ourselves in the Kingdom or in the "outer darkness."

This is one of the most frequent human illusions -believe that to judge the sin in other people makes us just. We indeed resist sins; we even fight against sins. And it is written in Holy Scriptures: "reprove them" (Eph. 5:11).

It is comfortable like that to overlook what is written at first there: "have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness". It is so easy to forget all which was said by the Rescuer, who kept to Himself the right of judgment (Matt. 7:1-5, Jn. 8:7). The occupation of our soul with the eradication of others’ sins "protects" us from the work of own repentance and gives us the feeling of participating in a good, God’s deed – the salvation of humanity.

Paul's words that God is not partial would seem clear for every believer. And, generally, speaking about it, we mean first of all the incorruptibility of God and His justice. Our expectations of God's judgment are connected first of all with the fact that in His judgment each will receive according to the merit, including the one, who for some reasons managed to avoid a just judgment on earth, also as the one who sought justice from earthly judges and was not able to find it. In other words, we see in God the guardian of justice, as we understand it, such a guardian, who can make what we cannot because the fallen world according to the word of the Savior "lies in evil".

But however the purposes of God, it seems, are completely different. And the notion of justice also. His task is not the restoration of justice, but the salvation of all those, who can be saved. Of course, it is absolutely important here the spiritual and moral choice of man. It is too difficult to save someone who does not find necessary to respect the commandments given by God. And not because God gets angry with such people, but because commandments were never given by God to the people as an exceptionally moral code. They were always first of all, the description of this spiritual way, which led man to God, by deepening and strengthening his relationship with God. Or the way, which, on the contrary, led far away the man from God, if this one chose the way of the violation of the commandments. And it is not easy to save the one who runs far away from you.

And the problem here is not in the fact that God has no possibilities of influencing on those who violate the commandments given by Him, but in the fact that He respects too much the freedom of each of us to save us by force, without our agreement on it. But only if man is ready to leave behind his sin and his opposition to God, if he is ready to be converted and to repent, God accepts him as if he had no sin. God is not the guardian of morality and justice; He is the God of love and salvation.

For him, it is not important who was man, when he sinned, for Him it is important who is the man who addresses Him here and now. And really especially it is not important for God, which views and convictions holds the man who addresses Him. For him, it is not even important if the one who addresses Him is religious or not. One thing is important: how the one who addresses is going to build from now on his life: according to God's will or contrary to it. Indeed, it is only that which defines, if the one who addresses can enter the Kingdom, or will stay outside it, in the external darkness.

There is a notion in the religious psychology such as: the religious anthropomorphism - it is when we judge about God in ourselves, thinking that He is as us and forgetting His own words: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways" (Is 55 8). We think, especially in such dazzle that God chooses and distinguishes those who for of some reasons please Him more. But He says Himself that "he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust". No secondary circumstances make us be closer or farther of God, except our personal will and acts. And it is still important for us to remember the context, in which Holy Scriptures pronounce this idea: "every nation on earth that fears God is a delight to Him". What we consider as our merits and advantages: membership in a defined ethnic group, in a defined confession or whatever else - all this also has less importance, quite as the color of eyes and hair. Because there is no respect with God, and a scoundrel is better in nothing than another.

Jesus was quite demanding toward the Pharisees and the "lawyers" (teachers of the Torah), condemning much in their life. He is plainly condemning first of all the distortion of the system of priorities in spiritual life, which outwardly manifests itself as religious formalism.

Of course, there is nothing good for spiritual life in formalism by itself: it distracts from what matters most. But something else is worse: religious formalism provides an excellent justification for self-assertion. After all, by fulfilling all the required formalities, the one who fulfills them thinks he has every right to be proud of himself and of his achievements in spiritual life. Meanwhile Jesus reminds the people listening to Him of what matters most: justice and the love of God.

It would seem that justice and love are, in a certain sense, directly opposite things. But on closer examination the connection between them turns out to be quite clear. Indeed, if we follow the prophetic tradition (and it was the prophets who spoke most often and most extensively about God's judgment and about justice), justice can and must be connected not only with court proceedings, but also with making a decision as such. Making a choice and a decision in one situation or another, evaluating his own or someone else's actions, a person who wants to follow the Torah must first of all evaluate his own and others' actions with respect to their conformity to the norms and laws of the Torah, in particular to the commandments of the Decalogue.

A correct evaluation of one's own and others' actions, as well as of the situation as a whole, the right choice, and the resolve to follow it are, properly speaking, the foundation of normal everyday spiritual life. Meanwhile religious formalities often not only fail to help here, but directly get in the way, distracting attention from what matters most and shifting it to secondary things. Instead of thinking about whether a given action or decision conforms to God's commandment, the religious formalist begins thinking about whether it conforms to religious rules. And religious formalism distracts from the love of God no less: after fulfilling the prescribed religious rules, the one who has fulfilled them begins to think that he no longer owes anything to anyone.

Love, however, never limits itself to the framework of law and obligations: the one who loves is always ready to do more for the beloved than he is obliged to do. And the point is not even that the religious formalist withholds something from someone, although, of course, in reality that is almost always how things stand. The point is that, remaining what he is, such a formalist builds his relationship with God in the same way as with his neighbor. And he is ready to receive from Him as much as is prescribed. But what is prescribed is plainly not enough for any of us for salvation, so the formalist will have to forget about salvation. And about the Kingdom too.

Some unsearchable fear creeps in when you think about this text and at the same time project it onto the present state of affairs in the world. "But He said: Woe to you lawyers also, because you load people with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not touch the burdens with one of your fingers". The point is not even that some of our spiritual fathers force us to fast too severely, or that someone lays too strict penances on us. It seems that none of this is really a sign of the present day. Perhaps somewhere there are priests who are strict beyond measure. But overall, this is not at all the spirit of our days. Any normal priest understands that simply being an ordinary decent Christian against the background of our maddened, corrupted, terrifying age is already a very difficult task, to say nothing of ascetic feats among laypeople.

But it seems that this is only the most direct meaning of today's reading, while it also contains deeper layers of meaning. Now these words of the Lord call to our memory other words as well. "They will put you out of the synagogues; but the hour is coming when whoever kills you will think that he is offering service to God" (John 16:2). Now the closeness of these two texts is strong.

Why will he think that he is offering service to God? Why do some "Muslims" think that by killing Christians they are offering service to Allah? Why do some "Christians" think that by dropping bombs on civilians in Iraq, on children and women, they are doing a God-pleasing, good, kind, and just thing? Why?

And the answer to this question, strangely enough, lies precisely in the words Jesus speaks today. We are obedient to "lawyers"; they guide us like donkeys on whom burdens are loaded, and we obey them. We even have such words as "spiritual leader." But it seems to me that this is some kind of oxymoron, nonsense, an impossible expression. In principle there can be no such concept as a spiritual leader. In the spirit only the Spirit can guide us, and everything else is not in the spirit, but simply criminal, a matter for court. But one must strain oneself, labor, read, think, pray. Here everything is simple: the mullah said that it is written in the Quran, if you meet an unbeliever, strike the neck with the sword (the 47th sura, "Muhammad"), so go kill Christians. But it turns out that in fact something completely different is meant; the passage is about a battle, but this requires going deeply into it, looking at different translations, simply having an integral vision and living communion with God. And Christians hear their children being killed to shouts of "Allahu akbar" and begin to hate, or even behave in such a way that the only word a believer can use toward them is "infidel." And they forget that Christ teaches love, not hatred; they forget because they turn not to Christ, but to presidents who call themselves believers, to leaders - in a word, to "lawyers."

One wants to say: people, look more carefully at the words the Lord speaks today: "that you load people with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not touch these burdens with a single finger." Are we donkeys, that burdens should be loaded on us? Woe to them, yes; but we should not offer them our backs.

How often, on encountering Christ's denunciations of the Pharisees, do we pray: God, I thank You that I am not like this Pharisee. (Luke 18:11) By doing so, of course, we immediately turn ourselves into him. There is only one way to keep this cruel irony from happening to us: however unpleasant it may be, we must take every new “woe to you” as addressed to us personally. If we learn to stand like this before the Lord's reproving judgment, to stand daily in our prayer of repentance before possible accusations of pharisaism, then we have already grown a little stronger in spiritual warfare.

For the sin of resembling the Pharisee in some way may be the least obvious, yet the most dangerous thing that can happen to us. Almost every inward sin, hidden from other people, is a sin of pharisaism. When we do something plainly wrong, it is not as dangerous, because those around us can help: they can point out the sin, help us recognize it, and show us how to escape it. But only we and the Lord know about the sin of pharisaism, as we may provisionally call it. We therefore fight it alone, with God's help alone, as we stand before Him in prayer. This is more dangerous, more difficult, and much more common. All the more worthy, then, is the task that lies before us.

How clever, upright, and discerning we all are when we look at other people's actions! We immediately see where they act contrary to reason, conscience, or moral standards. What becomes of all that when it comes to our own actions? At once we find all kinds of reasons, circumstances, and excuses...

In the Letter to the Romans Paul writes: “Do you suppose, then, that you will escape God's judgment, you who condemn those who do such things and yet do the same?” In the Gospel of Luke the Lord addresses Israel's “spiritual leaders”: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like unmarked graves, which people walk over without knowing it.” Our attempt to justify ourselves by exalting ourselves above those we consider more sinful than we are is futile. God shows no partiality. He looks at us not in comparison with one another, but as we are; His standard is not relative but absolute, and we earn “positive marks” only when we are led by God's love.

It is not the existence of the law or formal adherence to it that justifies, but its fulfillment; the deeds of those under the authority of the law will be judged by that same law. But why must those who sinned without having the law perish without the law? Is the legal principle “ignorance of the law is no excuse” consistent with the highest mercy?

Paul also answers this question and another one that is constantly asked: what will happen to those who did good deeds without knowing the commandments? They did not know them intellectually, indeed, but the law of conscience lived in their hearts, intelligible to everyone who has not stifled it within themselves. In practice, such people may fulfill the unwritten law more fully than some experts in the written law. It is not said of such people that they do not come into judgment; it is those who have believed who do not come into judgment (Jn 3:18). But at the judgment they will be able to present the good deeds they performed at the prompting of conscience. We do not know what the verdict will be in each individual case, but we believe that the verdict of the One who shows no partiality cannot fail to be just.

In several episodes, the evangelist records different sayings of the Lord about life in the coming Kingdom of God. Jesus did not preach in a vacuum—around Him were believers, some devout and some less so. Naturally, they all understood somewhat differently what God is and how one should live with Him. Yet in the sayings recorded by the evangelist one can trace two principal “types of religious life”: on one side, a person with a clear, simple eye, filled with light like the light of a lamp visible to everyone in darkness; on the other, the formal piety of people who remember when to wash their hands and when to pay the tithe, but sometimes forget—not out of malice, but solely because of the limitations of human memory—such things as forgiveness, mercy, and trust in God. Naturally, both kinds truly are “types,” distinct ideals of spiritual life; nevertheless, they depict quite clearly the two directions in which a disciple of Jesus Christ may set out.

Today's reading is devoted to the central theme of the controversy that unfolded between Jesus and part of the Pharisaic brotherhood - the theme of the Kingdom and religiosity. To understand the situation, it is important to keep in mind that this is not about some specific form of religiosity. The religiosity of the Pharisees, of course, had very concrete features characteristic of the era; but on the other hand, the Pharisaic mentality can be regarded as the quintessence of religiosity as such, and in a certain sense any other religiosity known in history (at least in the history of the Abrahamic religions) can be compared with Pharisaic religiosity as with a standard.

But the point is that Jesus was not the founder of a new religion. Christianity is not a religion, but life in the Kingdom, and the Savior is constantly trying to convey this thought to His interlocutors. It is no accident that He answers so fully the Pharisee who invited Him into his house, when the man asks about the ritual washing of hands before a meal (vv. 38-44). The question of ritual purity is the central question of any religion; it defines a person's belonging to a religious community and his religious standing.

Jesus, however, speaks of purity not as a religious condition, but as a spiritual one. The possibility of abiding in the Kingdom is determined not by a person's qualities, moral or religious, but by his relationships with God and with his neighbors. Religion and morality can cleanse a person outwardly; careful performance of religious duties makes a person religiously impeccable; he conforms to all the prescriptions of the Torah if it is understood only as religious legislation that has no relation to a person's inner life.

One can call this religious formalism, but that would still not be the whole truth, because the same Pharisees tried to fulfill the prescriptions of the Law not only formally; they were simply completely sure that, after carefully paying the tithe, they really were clean before God (v. 42). Jesus, however, speaks of almsgiving for a reason (v. 41), of something that no law can regulate: only the refusal to try to formalize everything in one's relationship with God can make a person think not about his religious duties and rights, but about his relationships with God and with people. Then such a person will also not attach special importance to status, so important in religious life (v. 43). And the main problem here is that the way into the Kingdom is not some special, new religion, but the rejection of every religion as such. This was unacceptable even to the "scribes" - teachers of the Torah (v. 45). But Jesus replies by noting that rabbinic theology, like all traditional theology in general, is occupied with justifying that same religiosity, which, incidentally, does not obligate the theologians themselves to anything (v. 46).

Worst of all, it is religion and its defenders that in every age have opposed God's witnesses and tried to get rid of them. So it was before, and in Jesus' time nothing had changed (vv. 46-52). And here it turns out that fully religious, learned, and outwardly devout people condemn to the cross the One whom, by their own assertions, they had been waiting for through many centuries. Choosing between religion and the Kingdom, they, as is clear, choose religion. And they remain with their own choice.

The Savior's words addressed to the Pharisees and teachers of the Torah, who in those days were usually called "scribes," may seem too harsh, just as they seemed to some of His listeners. But the question was too serious, and things had to be called by their proper names. The accusations are serious: in essence, Jesus reproaches both the religious leadership of the Synagogue of that time (the Pharisees) and the outstanding teachers of the Torah for not observing themselves what they call others to observe. A strange accusation, it would seem: after all, in the Gospels it is precisely the Pharisees and teachers of the Torah who are shown as zealots for the Torah; they are the ones who constantly reproach Jesus for violating one or another of its prescriptions. But Jesus clearly identifies the problem: external religiosity devoid of spiritual content. This very religiosity became the main problem of synagogue spiritual life in the Gospel era. Many Pharisees adhered to such religiosity, and many teachers of the Torah taught it to the people.

There was, of course, an alternative, but only a few represented it. The New Testament books have preserved the names of some of them for us: Nicodemus, Gamaliel... But they did not determine the general atmosphere of synagogue life at that time. And so it turned out that calls to spiritual life were accompanied by instruction in a life that was not so much spiritual as religious. People were taught not how to acquire inner wholeness and inner light (the very "clear eye" of which Jesus speaks), but how to observe ritual prescriptions. Of course, these prescriptions also did not appear for no reason, and behind them stands a certain spiritual experience that gave rise to them; but by that time the experience had already been forgotten, while the prescriptions remained.

And now the people are offered a life of religiosity alone, without spiritual content; prescriptions without communion with God. Meanwhile, the teachers themselves feel like masters of the Torah: after all, they are the ones who comment on it and interpret it; people come to them for advice; it is their authority in the eyes of ordinary people that is unquestioned.

Not all of them, of course, were like this, but there were enough of them for a vast number of people to become locked inside a circle of formal religiosity with no possibility of leaving it. And every free word from God, any breath of God's Spirit in this environment, is perceived as something unnecessary and even dangerous: it undermines the monopoly of teachers and interpreters over the Torah, and therefore over spiritual life. It is no accident that Jesus tells those who build monuments to the ancient prophets that they are no better than their fathers, who killed those same prophets. They have no need of living spiritual life, just as their fathers had no need of it. And that means they have no need of the Kingdom either.

In the Gospel we find no angry denunciations by Jesus directed at thieves, extortioners, prostitutes, unfaithful wives, occupying forces, or other sinners. The only class He denounces is the scribes and Pharisees. What had these people done wrong—people who studied the Law, taught others, and were a kind of “conscience of the nation”? Their gravest fault is probably expressed in verse 52: called to lead people to the knowledge of God, they themselves passed by this—the most important thing in human life. Without knowing God, no amount of knowledge about God will have any meaning.