NOTES for Heb 5:11-12

The author of the epistle to Hebrew expresses an interesting idea: he connects the ability of hearing and listening with spiritual maturity. Certainly, in this case it is all about that one can understand adequately certain things connected to spiritual life, only by having the corresponding experience. But is it only that? And can we consider the ability of hearing as a sign of spiritual maturity?

Certainly, it is known of all that the pupil just beginning studies, has to keep silent and listen to his teachers, and can speak only when the professor waits for an answer from him. And then comes necessarily the moment, when the pupil becomes, as we called even not so far ago "a young specialist" and also receives the right to teach the same pupils, whom he himself was recently. It is typical for a religious environment not less, than for any other: neophytes who were not long ago catechumens, are usually very talkative and very categorical.

But, if the process of the spiritual maturity takes place normally and the catechumens do not remain eternally neophytes, the desire to talk is quite soon transformed for them into desire to hear. And it is not surprising: because spiritual life is not a monologue, but a dialogue, a dialogue with God and the neighbor. And for such dialogue, the ability of hearing and listening is not less, and sometimes even more considerable, than the ability of talking.

In the New Testament books a situation is often mentioned when those to whom the speaker is addressing himself prove unable to hear him. Quite often the issue is Jesus, but sometimes other preachers too, as in the case of the author of the Letter to the Hebrews. This author tells his listeners and readers that they have become "sluggish in hearing," which is exactly how the Greek text sounds literally. What is this: unwillingness to listen? Hardly.

Unwillingness presupposes that the listener has already managed to hear and understand something of what was said. And, having evaluated what was heard, decided that he does not want to hear it. Here both evaluation and attitude are present. The author of the letter, however, speaks of sluggishness. Of unwillingness not simply to hear, but to listen at all. Of slackness that excludes both evaluation and any definite attitude. Most often this happens when the listener or reader simply is not interested in what is before his ears or eyes. But in this case the issue is clearly not that. Evidently the addressees of the letter already know its author, and earlier they were interested in what he wanted to say to them.

The issue here is something else. It may, of course, be an ordinary reaction of rejection. This happens when what is said is categorically unacceptable to the listener. Then the listener may simply stop perceiving what he does not want to hear: a kind of internal psychic filter turns on, preventing him from hearing what he does not want to hear. But for such a filter to work, a certain inner activity is still needed, and rather high activity.

Rejection too can be active or passive. And since the author of the letter speaks of sluggishness, the passive variant is more fitting than the active one. This too happens. Especially in cases where a person values his emotional, for example religious, comfort too highly. In such a case the defensive mechanism may work somewhat differently: instead of an active psychic filter, a passive one is set up.

Perception is not blocked, but its threshold is lowered so much that, simply speaking, it is impossible to make oneself heard. Physically he hears the one addressing him, but psychologically he does not. He remains inside his matrix, into which nothing from outside penetrates. Of course, the person himself often does not realize what is happening. But this is not necessary: a certain spiritual state, a certain intention, is enough. For example, an intention directed toward preserving inner, spiritual, and psychological comfort at any cost. The psyche will do the rest by itself. For it obeys our will, and its functioning is determined by our choice.

While reminding his readers of the fundamental truths of Christianity, the author of the letter also expresses bewilderment that his addressees need this kind of spiritual "remedial course" (vv. 11-12). However, he himself finds an explanation for this mismatch: the problem is that those to whom he writes are spiritual infants. In saying this, the author of the letter has in mind not the intellectual level of his addressees, but their inability to distinguish good from evil (vv. 13-14). Indeed, even a very small experience of life in the Kingdom instills this skill easily and quickly: after comparing, in the example of one's own life, the laws of our still untransformed world with the laws of the Kingdom, no one will any longer be mistaken about where good is and where evil is. Anyone who has even once felt the breath of the Kingdom upon himself will never confuse it with anything else. The most beautiful words will not attract him, and the most convincing theological concepts will not make him turn aside from the path, if he does not sense in them this familiar breath.

The addressees of the letter, as we can see, are not hard to deceive, which testifies to their spiritual inexperience: they know too little about the life of the Kingdom to distinguish truth from falsehood, genuine witness from beautiful words that have nothing to do with the truth. And the author of the letter calls them not to tread water, but to move forward, rooting themselves in the Kingdom so as not to lose it (vv. 1-3). Among other things, he reminds his addressees that spiritual life is not a game, but a serious and responsible matter. He does not, of course, deny in principle the possibility for Christians of repentance for sins they have committed and of turning again, but he emphasizes that these are still exceptional cases, each of which must be regarded not as the norm, but as an extraordinary event.

Meanwhile, already, apparently, in the second or third generation of Christians, some were beginning to view repentance and turning again as something resembling the traditional Yahwist rites of purification, which had been a usual and integral part of the life of the faithful before Christ came into the world. The author of the letter directly says that such an approach is real sacrilege and profanation: to view sin as the norm of life means to deny everything the Savior did for people and in fact to crucify Him Himself all over again (vv. 4-8). And a spiritual life that presupposes such an attitude toward sin and repentance will never allow the one seeking the Kingdom to become rooted in it.

The ability to discern good and evil is plainly a gift. According to the apostle Paul, this is precisely how spiritual maturity manifests itself in a person. The difficulty is that evil disguises itself while good may pass unnoticed. It can be very hard to understand what truly underlies what is happening. Nevertheless, this ability is an indispensable condition of the transition from spiritual childhood to adulthood. Paul writes as though it were a skill one can cultivate in oneself by an effort of will. On the other hand, such work is possible only on condition of an unceasing life of prayer. Self-formation places an enormous strain on a person, but the habit of self-discipline is one of the distinguishing marks of an adult: not always perfect, but striving for perfection, one who has already tasted the powers of the age to come and is capable, after falling, of rising and returning to God, understanding that life is possible only with Him.

The ability to discern good and evil is plainly a gift. According to the apostle Paul, this is precisely how spiritual maturity manifests itself in a person. The difficulty is that evil disguises itself while good may pass unnoticed. It can be very hard to understand what truly underlies what is happening. Nevertheless, this ability is an indispensable condition of the transition from spiritual childhood to adulthood. Paul writes as though it were a skill one can cultivate in oneself by an effort of will. On the other hand, such work is possible only on condition of an unceasing life of prayer. Self-formation places an enormous strain on a person, but the habit of self-discipline is one of the distinguishing marks of an adult: not always perfect, but striving for perfection, one who has already tasted the powers of the age to come and is capable, after falling, of rising and returning to God, understanding that life is possible only with Him.