NOTES for Isa 25:6-10

Describing the messianic era, the prophet especially mentions the full and final victory over death. In general, the Bible says much about victory over death and about the universal resurrection at the end of time. As for what happens after death, the biblical books say almost nothing about it. Unlike Egyptian or Greek texts, the Bible says nothing about the immortality of the soul and recompense beyond the grave. This is not surprising: an immortal soul existing separately from the body is not yet life in all its fullness.

Life in all its fullness can only be the life of the whole human being, soul and body together, not apart. But that is not the only point. The point is also how the Bible sees the human being. We, people of the modern age, look at the human being more through the eyes of a Greek philosopher than through the eyes of the authors of the biblical books. For us, a human being is an eternal and unchanging soul joined to a temporary and fragile body. But in the Bible the soul is by no means unchanging.

In the biblical books, the soul is not a structure at all, but a process. It is the flow of human life in all its manifestations, from the highest spiritual aspirations to simple physiology, such as breathing and blood circulation. And into this essentially natural flow enters that "breath of life" which God "breathes" into the human being's "nostrils" at creation.

At the point where these two flows intersect, God's "breath of life" and natural existence, as a modern philosopher would call the biblical "soul," the human person is born. The fullness of human life is determined by the intensity of this natural process. And the intensity of the process depends on what determines its quality: nature or God's "breath of life." Here there are many possibilities, from the fullness of life in the Kingdom to its minimum in Sheol, in the world of shadows, where one can speak of life only in a very qualified sense.

In the Bible, death is not the disappearance of the human being, not his departure into nonbeing, but the draining away of life within him to the minimum that turns the dead person into an empty shell, a lifeless shadow. The opposite of death is not simply life, but life in fullness, in that fullness which is possible only in the Kingdom. In the Kingdom there is no place for death in any of its forms and there can be none. Therefore the coming of the Messiah and the arrival of the messianic Kingdom put an end to death: as long as death has not disappeared completely, life has not yet won. That means the Kingdom in all its fullness has not yet come either.

Yes or no? The word announced by Isaiah almost 27 centuries ago will come true or not? One can say that it is the key question defining our relation towards life. One can live only by leaning on this prediction, only by hoping that it is truth. Otherwise everything loses its meaning, and life becomes horrible and absurd. Indeed, suffering swamps the world as a deluge, and deliverance from it is not seen. All our joy and high aspirations, all our good deeds, quite as all our sins, wickedness and greediness are vanities and chasing of wind, because death waits for everyone. But, when God says these words through the prophet – everything changes. The sovereignty of death is not definitive, it will be overcome, and all the suffering of people will find consolation – implying to have the meaning to live.

God gives a multitude of confirmations of His loyalty throughout the history, so that we can believe preeminently in this promise. In the life of everyone who seeks for God, accumulates the experience showing that God is faithful - in particular so that you can believe. For our relation towards our self, towards life and towards the world it is the fundament, which psychology calls "basic trust". Without it, no person can grow intellectually and in emotionally healthy.

And all the same the prophet summons us to the exploit of trust. Believing to his words is also difficult, as it was difficult for Peter to believe the Lord Jesus, come down out of the boat and walk on the water. Indeed, we can receive a definitive assertion of the truthfulness of the words of the prophet only when his word will come true. But how difficult it is not to believe in these words! All our essence opposes to this sinister nonsense, in which is transformed our life of distrust. Somewhere in the inconceivable intimacy of the human nature is put the secret knowledge of the fact that this prediction is true. And that is why hope is so vivifying for us.

"That day"... For the prophet Isaiah this day is in the future. Where is this day for us? In the past, when the Son of God agreed to die on the cross for our salvation? Or in the future, when He will come in power and glory and will achieve the definitive victory on evil? And if this day was today, and in this day such a meeting is laid ahead for us, when we shall say: "lo, this is our God!"? Do we want this meeting? Is there in us this hope, without which the meeting is impossible? Are we ready to accept the joy that brings this meeting?

The many healings the Lord performs become something like an illustration of Isaiah's prophecy: "Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped. Then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the mute shall sing" (Isa. 35:5-6). We see the fulfillment of what the prophet says; we see Christ overcoming terrible diseases, incurable as we understand them. But the Lord does this not only to show that He came to embody what the prophets spoke of. He heals the sick because He loves each person brought to Him. In His eyes, the life of each of us is precious. We see that the Lord does not merely give; the Lord gives in abundance. He not only accomplishes everything the prophets spoke of, He not only heals the sick, He also makes sure that all these people are fed. He is concerned that the difficult trip back will drain their strength and rob them of the joy of healing. And He is not stopped by the fact that the disciples have only the smallest amount with them. And so, by God's mercy, the whole crowd of four thousand is fed, and quite a lot is left over.

We too cannot offer God very much; sometimes we have almost nothing at all, and each of us is immeasurably small beside the Lord. Then we become ashamed - truly, what can we give You, Lord? But the Lord shows us how our smallness can become a source of food and help for our brothers and sisters. Only this will no longer be our strength or our power; it will be the strength of His love, His mercy, and His Spirit.

Today we have one of the shortest Gospel readings, just three verses. Yet they allow us to see what is happening. The Pharisees took offense at Christ's words that we read yesterday and the day before, and He withdrew from Palestine into the region of Tyre and Sidon. At last He returned from there to the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, and crowds surrounded Him. These people had traveled a long way to gather around Jesus. They carried and led many sick and disabled people with them in order, as the evangelist says, to cast them down at His feet. The Greek verb used here, ρίπτω, means “to throw, toss, cast down, lay.” Carrying these sick people was very hard, and after reaching the place and climbing the mountain where Jesus sat, the people really did set down this heavy burden.

As with the healing of the paralytic, when his friends took apart the roof to lower him to Jesus' feet, here too people's perseverance and labor are necessary for God to perform His healing work. Bearing the burden of another person's illness is an important condition for being able to ask Christ for help.

You look at the words the Lord speaks to us today and remember how, just the other day, you received an email asking you to pray for the newly departed young Maria. She died of cystic fibrosis. And for her mother Marina, who is now left alone, because her second daughter died of the same disease. How can this be? So many people prayed for them! And what does it matter to us that for a brief moment Christ visited the earth and healed some number of sick people... If those people were placed beside all the children through all the ages who have died, they would simply not be noticeable. So then, should we rejoice?

Yes, rejoice. Because Christ did not simply come and heal; He came and turned their diseases into His wounds, died, and rose again. He is not merely a Healer and Wonderworker, though He is both. He showed us the Way of life. He lit the road into the darkness.

Not one of Jesus' miracles is limited to a local meaning in time and space for one particular person. Therefore the Gospel stories about miracles cannot be read outside the context of the whole Gospel. Otherwise we risk falling into a very terrible error, one so characteristic of our contemporaries today: perceiving the Church as consumers. Pay for a prayer request for health, and health will increase. And the church turns into a store. It is terrible.

Christ heals, but by His wounds. This cannot be forgotten. By His wounds unto death. To a real, agonizing death. A death that was no easier for Him than it is for each of us. On the contrary, it is easier for us: we usually die under narcotics, while He refused them; we die on clean sheets, while He was covered in dried blood and dust; we are surrounded by loving relatives, while He died under mockery and abuse. One can continue this list, but it is probably not worth doing. Let our heart simply be filled with gratitude toward Him, with love and tenderness. And may we fear nothing, for "it was worse for my God, and more painful for the Mother of God" (N. S. Gumilyov)

Sometimes, reading the Gospel, one may think that Jesus' only task during His earthly ministry was healings. Although He Himself spoke first of all about the Kingdom, which, in His words, had "drawn near." At first glance there is no direct connection here, and the healings look simply like acts of mercy toward the sick, who truly needed healing. Sometimes Christian preachers even emphasize that Jesus, they say, always helped people by freeing them from illness, giving them a chance to feel what the full life of a healthy person is, and only afterward spoke to them about the Kingdom. But is this so? Outwardly, everything really does look exactly this way. If, of course, healings are considered simply deliverance from disease and the restoration of physical health. Many who saw Jesus during His earthly ministry thought exactly this, regarding the healings He performed as the result of the action of God's power, just like all other miracles performed by God through the prayers of His servants. But is this really so? Of course, healing is always an action of God's power. But in Jesus' case, what strikes one is how the healings happen: Jesus often heals those around Him by His mere appearance. Clearly these are not simple healings, but the action of the same breath of the Kingdom that accompanies Jesus everywhere. Jesus does not cure illnesses, even supernaturally. He simply brings those who trust Him into communion with the Kingdom He has brought into the world. And in the Kingdom, unsurprisingly, there is no place for evil, sin, illness, or death. Of course, healing by itself does not yet mean the fullness of transformation. Those healed, even after healing, remain part of the untransformed world. But by sharing in the fullness of the Kingdom, they receive that fullness of life which is possible in the untransformed world. Thus the healings performed by Jesus become a witness to the Kingdom.

Why does the Lord, who so often says when performing miracles, "Go and tell no one," perform such an obvious miracle, one that will certainly become known to everyone, and even a second time? After all, in order to reveal the authority of the Son of God over creation, it would have been enough to feed five thousand with five loaves...

The question as posed is off the mark, and this matters. It is not at all evident that the Lord consciously planned this situation. The Greek verb in verse 29, unlike the English "sat down," conveys an unfinished action: "having gone up on the mountain, He was sitting there." And crowds came to Him... What the Lord certainly could not do was refuse them healing and the word of life, and therefore evening came unnoticed during the preaching. He did not create the situation for a miracle deliberately, but once it arose, the miracle itself became the natural continuation of Christ's overflowing mercy.

It is also important for us that the evangelist preserves the story of the second feeding of a multitude, giving us the opportunity to see important similarities in the way the miracle is performed. Unlike the first time, the disciples no longer say skeptically that even two hundred Roman monetary units would not be enough bread for such a crowd; they ask the Teacher, where are we to get so much bread? And Christ takes what is there and gives thanks.

This is the key word of the whole account of this miracle: thanksgiving to God. It is this action that brings a miracle into the world and erases the boundary between earth and heaven.

The Apocalypse of Isaiah is not a story about coming disasters, but a vision of the triumph of God's Kingdom. Let us note for ourselves several details of which the prophet speaks: victory over the enemies of Israel, the gathering of Israel from dispersion, the Lord's feast for all nations on Mount Zion, the openness of the paths of personal righteousness, victory over death and the resurrection of the dead, the defeat of the serpent, and joy and gladness in God's salvation. Why was this written? We are called to take part in this victory - through our trust in the prophecy and our agreement with God's plan.

The middle of Great Lent is approaching, and today we therefore read the prophet Isaiah's words about God's victory. The prophet sings a hymn to the Almighty and speaks of a victory spreading ever more widely. At the beginning of the passage he praises God for the destruction of a kingdom opposed to Him; then the prophet's gaze turns to the salvation of the poor and oppressed. He says that, thanks to the Almighty's intervention, the breath of tyrants was like a storm against a wall, and He subdued the raging of the enemies. But then the prophet says that, just like earthly oppressors, oppressors of an entirely different kind will also be defeated and subdued. The Lord will destroy the covering that lies over all peoples, that is, the barrier between all people and Himself. Finally, the prophet praises the victory over death and suffering themselves: death will be swallowed up forever, and the Lord God will wipe away the tears from every face. Faith that this is how it will be can be a source of strength for us at all times.

Isaiah's prophecy speaks of Christ's Resurrection: "And He will remove the reproach from His people." Reproach is not only insults, suffering, and oppression. It is also the burden of sin, which, like disease, like leprosy, separates a person from God and from other people. It is also original sin, by which we are marked and from which we cannot be freed except through death and Resurrection on the day of Judgment. And His people are everyone who lays down his soul for Him and for the Gospel.

Death has already been swallowed up forever. And the joy of the Resurrection is with us every day. And on the last day there will be a rainbow, and the Lord will restore paradise on earth, and His people will go up the mountain and celebrate their meeting with the Lord and the restoration of the world. The world as it was conceived and created in the first days.

The account of the second multiplication of the loaves partly repeats the story of the first feeding, but there are also differences between them. Only the details differ, yet much can be seen precisely through these nuances.

On the first occasion, Christ took pity on the people and Himself healed all who had followed Him; this time the people brought many sick and disabled persons to Him specifically to be healed. He unquestionably helps everyone in need. But more and more often people look upon Christ as a provider of specific help without seeing any other meaning in His coming into the world.

On the first occasion, the disciples raised the question of food for the people; this time He Himself expressed the desire to feed them. It is astonishing that the disciples seem to have forgotten the first feeding and do not understand where bread can be found in the wilderness. Why is this? Is it because they are afraid to ask for a repetition of what amazed them so greatly? Or did what they saw truly pass them by without reaching their awareness? Yet how often do we too, after an important event in our spiritual life, sink back into everyday existence, and the experience that should have transformed us is forgotten...

Once again the Gospel repeats the account of Jesus distributing bread to the people, and now it speaks clearly about the inner meaning of what is taking place. Between the two accounts of meals, we encounter a person for whom receiving from Jesus even the remnants of this bread means receiving renewed life. She is a pagan woman who asks for life not for herself, but for her dying daughter. Outwardly, her dialogue with Jesus resembles a contest of wit: Jesus sketches a brief parabolic scene (the dogs and the children), and the woman skillfully enters into His imagery, thereby proving her right to the “crumbs of bread.” In reality, however, Christ praises her not for a clever answer, but for her faith, because what happens to her is precisely an act of faith: she recognizes in Jesus the One Who gives the bread of life. In her grief and need, Christ's words about the heavenly bread, which the disciples understood with such difficulty (cf. Jn 6), become entirely clear to her, and she touches the mystery of salvation, the mystery of the bread of life—Christ.

Today's reading again offers us two episodes that, at first glance, seem directly unrelated: the healing of the Samaritan woman's daughter (vv. 22-28) and the miracle of the multiplication of food, similar to the one described in the previous chapter (vv. 29-38; compare Matt 14:13-21). And yet there is a connection between them. That connection runs through the Kingdom, whose manifestation underlies the events described in both episodes. After all, both the miracles and the healings mentioned in the Gospel narratives essentially always speak of one thing: the Kingdom which, in the Savior's words, "has come near."

When we read in the Gospel that this woman was a Canaanite, it does not mean she was "second-rate," or of the wrong origin, or had somehow else failed to please Jesus. We know, having read the Gospel and simply sensing it in our hearts, that Jesus is always ready to help and heal the poor, the sinful, and the rejected. For the evangelist's first listeners it was entirely clear that she was a real pagan: she believed in pagan gods, worshiped them, and offered sacrifices to them. That is exactly why the Lord subjects her faith to such a test - to help her understand why she is turning to Him for help and not to her own gods.

Here a line is drawn between a person's pagan ideas and turning to Jesus, that is, prayer. Prayer to Christ, and to the Father in Christ, is incompatible with paganism. At the same time, paganism does not necessarily mean belief in other gods. It can also be the very ordinary Christian hope not in the one God, but in something else: money, one's own abilities, one's political party, the thought that things will somehow work out, and so on. Paganism is when we live not for God, but for someone or something else, most often simply for ourselves. If we, while being such pagans, want to ask Christ for something and turn to Him in prayer, we will need, together with this Canaanite woman, to pass through a complete revaluation of our faith and understand why we have turned to Christ and not to our idols...