NOTES for Mar 13:31-14:2

It is said clearly enough that no one can know either the day or the hour, yet advice is given to watch for signs that speak of coming events. But how can we avoid confusing true symptoms with apparent ones? Over the last twenty centuries, how many natural and historical cataclysms have already occurred, how many signs have seemed to coincide with those foretold, and yet the end of time has still not come? And does not the fig tree put out leaves every summer?

Yes, every summer, and at the same time it does not know which summer will be the decisive one. But year after year it continues to put out leaves so that by autumn fruit may ripen. Without being troubled by times and dates, we are called to keep watch, so that by the coming of the Master of the house we may have fruit prepared.

Today's reading includes several episodes linked by one theme: the theme of faithfulness and betrayal. It begins with the story of the woman who anointed Jesus with precious aromatic oil ("myrrh") (vv. 1-11). It is noteworthy that the description of the event itself is preceded here by a mention of the chief priests' and scribes' desire to kill Jesus (vv. 1-2), and immediately after it follows a mention of Judas's betrayal (vv. 10-11), so that the story of Jesus' anointing and the story of Judas's betrayal merge into one and become a single story. In the evangelist's account, Judas's betrayal is somehow connected with the act of the woman who poured the oil on Jesus' head. It would seem that there can be no connection here, especially since the thought of betrayal, as usually happens, must have arisen in Judas's mind long before the final decision was made. But it is entirely possible that at that moment something in the situation became the final push after which he decided to carry out what he had long been planning. A clue in this case may be the mention of the indignation openly shown by some of those present, who considered such use of costly oil too wasteful (vv. 4-5). But Jesus at once puts everything in its place: first He Himself, and only then help for the poor (vv. 6-9). And in this way He points us to one of the most important laws of spiritual life: concrete, living relationships with God and with Christ are more important than anything else, while everything else, even something as important as works of mercy, is only a consequence of those relationships. The poor will always be in the world. Plans to rid the world completely of poverty are utopian, and charity, evidently, does not have that as its goal. It is only a means to something else, a way of expressing one's love for a neighbor who needs help. And if this deeply personal relationship to the one you help disappears, charity ceases to be a work of love and becomes an abstract idea, which of course can also be served, like any idea, but which in that case ceases to be mercy in the Gospel sense. Gospel love is not an idea and not an emotion; it is a relationship, and therefore, unlike ideas or emotions, which are often quite abstract, it is always utterly concrete. And therefore at the Last Supper, where this relationship of Jesus to His disciples is revealed in all its fullness, the bread and wine become His Body and His Blood (vv. 22-25). Every sacred meal among believing Jews was always, above all, an expression of spiritual unity and brotherly love, the very thing that reaches its ultimate fullness in Gospel love. And the more clearly this unity and this love were revealed, the more spirit there was in such a meal and the less there was of pure, unspiritualized nature. But the love of an ordinary person never by itself reaches the fullness that can completely transform nature and spiritualize it. This is available only to the One who bears in Himself the whole fullness of God and can love to the end, so that in His relationship to the one He loves there is no longer any place for untransformed nature. And then before us are no longer bread and wine, as before, but Body and Blood, which unite us quite truly with the One who came to give us the Kingdom. Yet precisely this depth of relationship can become unbearable for someone who is not ready to trust to the end. It is impossible to follow Jesus only in the name of an idea; without a personal relationship with Him, without the love that He gives to everyone who is ready to trust Him, such a campaign can end only in spiritual collapse. Apparently this is exactly what happened to Judas, who may well have been ready to accept Jesus as a leader and ideological inspiration, but apparently did not love Him at all. And this lack of love led Judas to spiritual collapse, which in his case turned into betrayal of the Teacher. And the push, evidently, was precisely that Jesus pointed to Himself as the main thing His disciples had. For here it was necessary to accept Jesus Himself, not as the leader of a movement or the bearer of an idea, but precisely Himself, as a Person, as a Man who simply had to be loved, loved humanly, as friends are loved. To love, or to betray. This is the choice before which, at some moment in his spiritual life, everyone stands who has decided for some reason to follow Jesus. It is the choice on which depends whether we will be in the Kingdom or in darkness.

The matter is moving toward its resolution. The true traits of the characters and their real desires appear more and more clearly. The scribes and Pharisees no longer argue. They have lost every argument. And this did not convince them, did not stop them, did not make them doubt. "Brood of vipers," as John called them. They argued with the Truth for a long time; now all that remains is to kill it. At last they have openly understood their real desire: "to take Him by stealth and kill Him." They had done this in their hearts long ago. They are concerned only that the people not think anything bad of them.

The woman, however, "who was known in the city as a sinner," could have feared anger and condemnation. It is impossible for her to hide her vices. Yet she is the one who brings the precious ointment. The impulse of her heart draws her irresistibly to Jesus. In it everything is expressed: love, gratitude, repentance. She does not think about what people will say about her.

Judas finally goes to carry out his betrayal. He too has made his decision.

What else can Jesus still manage to do for us, for His disciples, for people? What could He do at all? Give Himself. Remain with us. The Paschal Meal with the disciples continues to this day. Jesus comes to us, as He promised, in the Sacrament of the Eucharist. The covenant with God, the New Covenant, is renewed at every Liturgy. The Bread and Wine, transformed by His Spirit, nourish and satisfy each one: "...and they all drank of it." He remains faithful to the end and forever. And our heart rejoices after Communion, as did the disciples: they "sang a hymn."

At the same time, however, another theme runs through the passage: the theme of betrayal. Judas betrays. Peter will deny Him. The disciples are distressed and doubt themselves: "Is it I?" They do not know what is in their heart. They would like to "die with Him," but it turns out they cannot. They still cannot decide. And we?

And why does this keep happening to us? Everything has been given to us: wisdom, truth, love, life. Yet we doubt, deny, and often betray. Is it possible to remain faithful to the end? What is our decision? What is in our heart?

We read Christ's prophetic words about the future of the world and the days before His Second Coming in power and glory. Everything that will happen will be terrible, and... all of it is already found in our world: earthquakes and wars, famine and epidemics. But what is the Lord's patience of which the apostle speaks? It consists in His waiting for every person and giving everyone opportunities to meet Him. He has given us the promise of which the apostle speaks: “According to His promise we wait for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.” Our world can become these new heavens and this new earth if Christ's proclamation is heard by everyone; if Christ's works and people's love for Him become the foundation of human life; if through repentance and the fear of God each person acquires faith, hope, and love. Prayer for the world and for everything that happens in it, prayer to Christ for the salvation of human souls amid distress and misfortune, must resound every day in the heart of every Christian, just as it resounds every day in the Church.

Today I want to draw attention to the words: "Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away." "Heaven and earth" is a biblical expression meaning the whole universe, the whole cosmos created by God. The Bible begins with these very words, as we all remember well. But do we understand correctly what Heaven is, what earth is, where we are, and where God is? The worst thing is if we think at the level of Soviet propaganda leaflets: that we are on earth and God is in heaven. It is known that after Gagarin's flight, articles appeared in the Soviet press saying that now it had been proven that there was no God in heaven. This is a warning against very crude errors. But there is also a more subtle mistake. It is to think that God is in Heaven, with Heaven capitalized, understanding Heaven as some world beyond the earthly one, inhabited by angels and the souls of the dead, over whom God reigns. Perhaps this mistake comes from a wrong understanding of the words "Our Father, who art in Heaven..." or "O Heavenly King..." This mistake will become clear when we recall the already mentioned lines of Gen. 1:1. The Lord created Heaven too, and there was a time when there was no Heaven, but God was. This does not mean that God is not in Heaven, but when we say that He is there, we greatly limit Him, placing Him on the same level as creatures, while He is the Creator. This is exactly what the lines of today's reading, which we wanted to offer you today for reflection, should remind us of. "Heaven and earth will pass away." Heaven, like earth, is not eternal. The end of time does not at all mean that people will be selected on earth and taken up to Heaven, as though they were being saved from the sinking ship of a passing world onto the firm shore of eternity. No, the end of time will mean the complete reordering of creation, which even Heaven will not avoid. This is what today's reading reminds us of.

Today's reading is remarkable for the transition reflected in it from history to the end of time. It begins with Jesus' prophecy about the Temple, which, according to His words, awaits complete destruction (vv. 1-23). This prophecy was fulfilled in A.D. 70, when, after the anti-Roman uprising raised by the Zealots in Judea, Jerusalem was taken by the Romans by storm after a long siege, and the city, together with the Temple, was destroyed to its foundations. Only the foundation of the Temple remained, whose western retaining wall is known today as the Wailing Wall. These events were preceded by a powerful rise of the messianic movement. Shortly before the uprising began, claimants to messiahship appeared regularly in Judea, and some of them managed to organize local rebellions that were harshly suppressed by the Romans; it is evidently about such claimants that Jesus warns His disciples (vv. 5-6). The atmosphere of the era was restless and fevered. Rumors spread about an approaching war, which the Zealots said would be the final, messianic war, and every military action, even a minor one, gathered rumors around it, sometimes the most unbelievable, further intensifying this atmosphere of universal, excited expectation of the end (vv. 7-8). Jesus' warning about coming persecutions was not in vain either (vv. 9-13): persecutions of Christians really began even before the uprising of A.D. 70; and Paul's preaching had already sounded throughout the Roman Empire before the fall of Jerusalem (v. 10). When the uprising began and failed, and Jerusalem came under threat of a severe and lengthy siege, Christians, remembering the Savior's warning (vv. 14-23), left the city (the Pharisees did the same). Josephus Flavius, one of the witnesses and participants in these events, writes in detail in his book "The Jewish War" about what happened in the besieged city, about the general hatred, intolerance, and violence that reigned there.

And so, after the prophecy about events that were to happen very soon after His death and Resurrection, the Savior turns to the account of the end of time and His second coming (vv. 24-37). It would seem that these events should have followed at once, or almost at once, one after another. However, Jesus Himself says plainly that the time of His return is known only to the Father. In that case the question arises: what connection is there between the events of A.D. 70 in Jerusalem and the second coming of Christ? For believing Jews the Second Temple, built by the repatriates who returned from Babylon in the sixth century B.C., was the messianic Temple. The Messiah-Christ was to preach there, and the end of this Temple was also to become the end of earthly history and the arrival of the messianic Kingdom. And Jesus, as we can see, confirms this idea that earthly history will be completed with the defeat of the Temple, adding that it will end while the contemporaries of His earthly life are still alive (v. 30; "this generation" means "this generation"). But between the completion of earthly history and the final triumph of the Kingdom, as we can see, some time must pass, known only to the Father. And we are left to wait and keep watch (vv. 33-37): to wait for the Savior's return in the fullness of the Kingdom and to keep watch so that His return does not catch us unprepared.

Today we read a passage in which Jesus speaks to the disciples about what is coming, about what awaits them and their descendants. This speech of Jesus is the longest one in Mark. Let us listen to it more attentively: what prompted the conversation? what can be said about the disciples' attitude toward Jerusalem and its temple?

Jesus' own words can be divided into three parts: about the destruction of Jerusalem, about His return and the end of this world, and two parables. The intersection of these themes can seem unexpected, but prophecy is not a chronological account of the future. It is, rather, various images of it, so that in the destruction of Jerusalem one can also see the end of this world.

It is interesting to trace whether the disciples' initial curiosity receives an answer. It appears that a direct answer sounds only at the very end of the chapter: in the parable of the fig tree He speaks about signs. But about the exact time it is said that it is hidden from everyone except the Father. And if He himself is what matters to us, then we must keep watch, like the doorkeeper in the second parable. This final summons will help us hear all the other words of Jesus as well, which seem to stand apart from the disciples' question: He is addressing each of us personally.

If Jesus does not answer the disciples' question before verse 28, then what is He speaking about in verses 5-27? What stands out is how often Jesus addresses them directly. Jesus is concerned not so much with the future itself as with people, His disciples, in that future. Jesus makes them understand that what they need most in this life is God and His guidance, something that is especially visible "against the background" of the end.

When reading this chapter, a natural feeling often arises: although one would very much not want to take part in the events described, there is one thing to be glad about. If all this does happen, then (vv. 19-20 and vv. 24-27) Jesus will return and save His chosen ones. He is God and Savior.