NOTES for Pe1 1:10-16

The apostle Peter answers a question we often ask: how should we live as Christians? How can we keep the commandments? This answer is simple, even simpler than one can imagine: we must be ready for trials, keep watch, and, above all, set our hope completely on the grace of God! This is what Saint Therese of the Child Jesus later spoke about: infinite trust is the road into the Kingdom that is open to everyone. Having placed all our hope on His grace, we truly can live in His light, but only if we genuinely want this and sincerely open our heart to Him, knowing that He can accomplish everything, even what is impossible for us...

God's call, "Be holy, because I am holy," was first heard in the second part of the Book of Leviticus, which, judging by everything known today about the history of the text of the Pentateuch, was written in the priestly circles of Jerusalem in the ninth century before Christ. Earlier (and this is clearly visible in the first part of the same Book of Leviticus), the main task of the faithful was to preserve ritual purity: it was precisely this that gave a person the possibility of approaching the altar, taking part in the sacrifice and the sacrificial meal, and being sanctified by touching the presence of God, which constituted the main meaning of all Yahwist sacrifices. But such sanctifications turned out to be only episodes in the spiritual life of the early Yahwists, although key episodes: after all, only priests could remain at the altar for any extended time, while everyone else at best spent several hours a week there. And in the time when the second part of the book appeared, it was revealed, if not to everyone, then at least to some, that the state of sanctification ("holiness") should become the norm for the people of God, although the Book of Leviticus does not say how to achieve this norm or even how to approach it; it offers only somewhat changed and partly expanded norms of ritual purity, not fundamentally different from those applied in the earlier period. There is nothing surprising here: the task of living in a state of sanctification, of remaining in it constantly, was in essence a task "for growth." It could be solved radically only in the Kingdom and only with the coming of the Messiah, although even this was still understood rather vaguely in the time when the call to holiness was heard. More centuries of the history of Revelation were needed, culminating in the coming of Christ, for the solution of the task that had been set to become fully possible, without concessions to human sinfulness and the relaxations connected with it. And now the apostle returns to the call first heard in the Book of Leviticus and undoubtedly well known to the first generation of Christians, who knew the Torah perfectly. He calls his fellow believers to see that in their life there would not be a single act incompatible with the state of sanctification ("holiness"), just as there were none in the life of the Savior Himself. And this call, of course, is no accident: it concerns life in the Kingdom, which is wholly and entirely a sacred space, sanctified by the breath of God. It is the space in which Christians are now to live.

Peter begins his discussion of Christian life with the question of holiness. In doing so, he refers to the Torah, more precisely to the Book of Leviticus, where God's call was first heard: “Be holy, because I, Yahweh your God, am holy.” The bar was not merely set high: with His call, God sets it at the highest possible level. What is at issue is a fullness of sanctification in a human being corresponding to the fullness of God's own holiness.

Of course, a human being is not God. But a person can be sanctified by abiding in God's presence. God changes the person, changes even human nature itself, just as He changes the nature of everything He touches. This change of nature through God's touch is precisely what sanctification is. But holiness is more than sanctification alone. A human being cannot be sanctified in the same way as, for example, stone, wood, or metal. For a human being is the image of God and therefore a person possessing self-awareness and freedom of will. Thus a person cannot be sanctified without taking part in the process. And their participation begins, above all, with their consent to take part.

It begins with the “yes” they say to God. But a single “yes” is not enough: it must be repeated continually. For the process not to stop, for a person always to remain “holy,” that is, sanctified, this “yes” has to be affirmed again and again, so as to remain in God's presence. This is where that concentration of the “mind,” that “girding” of it of which the apostle speaks, is needed. Of course, this concerns not only the intellect as such, but also the ability to distinguish good from evil: the corresponding Greek word actually means “discernment.”

Knowing how to distinguish good from evil, what accords with God's commandments from what contradicts them, is the essential skill of Christian life. Direct communion with the risen Christ opens up the possibility of moving forward on this path. It is His shed blood, His death, and His resurrection that open the way of Christian life to us.

Were it not for the Kingdom which, in the Savior's own words, “has drawn near,” were it not for its breath and its power, fullness of sanctification, unbroken abiding in God's presence, would be as impossible for us as it was for people in the pre-Christian world, even those who had set out on the path of righteousness. And if any of us now chooses the evil in which the world lies, rejecting holiness, this is solely that person's own choice—and the responsibility that follows from it.

At first, the call to be obedient children may seem demeaning. But then it becomes clear that self-abasement is the first and necessary step toward accepting the astonishing destiny which the Lord reveals to us. The call sounds so simple and brief: “Be holy”—and the reason God gives for it is so unexpected and incompatible with human logic: “because I am holy.”Unexpectedly, yet in fact quite naturally, we are given a glimpse of the direction in which we are called to move: toward the Lord, drawing closer to Him.

Even many Christians find it difficult to accept the conclusions that follow from this call. We are accustomed to seeing ourselves as sinners, and this is a truth we must recognize if we are not to fall into pride, which separates us from God. But the truth is also that the Lord redeemed us with His Blood, and now we belong to Him. This is why He wishes to raise us up to Himself.

Peter, like James, addresses the brothers as exiles scattered throughout different lands. Once again, the comparison between Christians and Jews living in the Diaspora naturally suggests itself. But Christians face not only life scattered among other peoples with different customs and beliefs, but also following Christ among their fellow countrymen and relatives, those closest to them, from whom they have suddenly been divided by a wall of incomprehension. Yet while the Old Testament Church was called to become a distinct people set apart, Christians are called to become a close-knit community while remaining part of the peoples to which they belong, and to go to their fellows with the proclamation of the Gospel. We are called chosen, and this election must not become a cause for self-exaltation; there is no merit of ours in being chosen, but it is a reason to be grateful to God.

The value and authenticity of faith are tested by trials. Overcoming temptations not only strengthens the person being tempted but also makes that person’s faith more steadfast. The test is necessary in order to see whether this truly is faith that transforms a person or merely a set of theoretical ideas.

Addressing Christians, Peter calls them “sojourners” or “strangers.” At first glance, this may seem odd: the churches he names consisted mainly of local inhabitants of the towns listed in his greeting. If there were newcomers among them, they were clearly not the majority. Evidently, Peter calls all Christians sojourners by definition. To him, a Christian is an outsider, a stranger, a sojourner in an untransfigured world, because he has become an inhabitant of the Kingdom. There he is no longer a stranger; there he is at home. On earth, however, he is a stranger and a sojourner. This is understandable: the world has not yet become the Kingdom.

The Kingdom is only entering the world; it has not yet entered it completely. It has not unfolded in its fullness. It has not transfigured the world so fully that the whole world has become part of the Kingdom. Yet the Kingdom is already present in the world, and the Christians who make up the Church are its bearers. It is through them that the Kingdom enters the world. This means that they must be present in the world without living its life. They must be strangers to the world. Outsiders. Sojourners. But sojourners rooted in the Kingdom.

It is no accident that the apostle mentions the power of God that protects the faithful living in this world. God's power, the power of the Kingdom, accompanies its inhabitants wherever they go. They can expect nothing from the world, but the Kingdom is always with them, and they are always in it. There is, however, one condition: keeping the faith. It is through faith that God's power guards Christians. And here, of course, the issue is not a set of concepts, nor even a worldview, but faithfulness to God and trust in Him.

God can remain with a person only as long as that person is faithful to Him and trusts Him. Not, of course, because He is powerless otherwise, but because otherwise human freedom would be violated—and God guards it as a value of the highest importance. But where there is faithfulness and trust, God acts freely in the person's life. His power and the breath of His Kingdom then become an absolute reality for that person. And for the world in which that person lives as well.