NOTES for Mat 14:1-13

When you prayerfully reflect on the image of John the Baptist, as though focusing your gaze on his icon, you understand that he is some entirely special person. After all, the Gospel contains many remarkable people, kind and sincerely loving the Lord... But in John there is something that seems to separate him from everyone, to set him a little aside. “Among those born of women there has not arisen anyone greater than John the Baptist...” (Matt. 11:11) — perhaps precisely here lies the reason for this feeling of inaccessibility, of remoteness.

And yet he was only a human being. There is one other human being before whom we have a similar feeling of inaccessibility: Mary. She is simply a woman, and at the same time She is far greater than any woman, for She carried in Her womb the Son of God Himself. This is what unites these two people, apart from blood kinship. But not only this: both became those through whom the birth of Christ was accomplished, in the flesh through Mary, and in the Spirit through John. And both at the same time felt themselves to be humble, unworthy witnesses of the miracle taking place before their eyes.

This is probably why these three icons stand at the center of the Deesis row: Mary, the Savior, and John. And the words of the prayer become somehow especially understandable: “As by natural kinship and by prayerful concord you are one, Mother of the King of all and divine Forerunner, offer together a supplication for the servant who has greatly angered the All-merciful One, that He may show mercy and save, bowing to your intercessions, and change me from my fiery kinship.”

Today's passage is one of the places in the Bible that speaks of an obvious lack of human freedom. For the sake of an oath made before his nobles, a drunken king is ready to override both his fears and the remnants of his conscience.

The evangelists' attitude toward Herod Antipas is interesting. They seem reluctant to condemn him and regard him with a certain indulgence. Indeed, the king appears before us as a man with very little freedom: he arrests John not on his own initiative, but because John denounces his unlawful marriage; he listens to John in prison while trying to resist the intrigues of the queen, who is seeking the prophet's execution. And now he “has to” behead him, once again against his own will.

Need we say that a person commits the greatest evil when deprived of freedom, under the power of suggestion, pressure, and circumstances that they cannot, or do not want to, resist and that draw them into sin and death? Once we understand this, we begin to value anew the freedom Christ gives: the freedom to resist circumstances and human and demonic pressure; as one priest put it, the freedom “to disobey evil.”

Herod's reaction to John's rebukes is banal. He so does not want some preacher spoiling his mood and sticking his nose into his personal life. It would be good if he did not exist at all.

And yet even Herod, who allowed himself much and paid little regard to anyone, did not dare kill John, because he feared the people. This is not surprising, since many of those who try to appear "tough" and show off their ruthlessness are in fact inwardly weak, saturated with hidden fears and complexes. Inner instability, the desire to show off before the guests, and at the same time dependence on the "public opinion" of those gathered at the feast forced Herod first to make a rash oath and then to agree to murder. Having rejected the preaching of John the Baptist, Herod rejected the possibility of repenting of his sins, and then multiplied them. And now he would have to spend the rest of his life in fear.

Fear is Herod's first reaction when he receives the news of Christ's preaching. Thinking that John has risen, Herod is mistaken, but there is a grain of truth in his mistaken fears. For the One whom he took for the risen John truly does bring Resurrection. Even saturated with evil, Herod sensed the invincibility of good.

Christ gathers enormous crowds of people and feeds them with bread. There is enough bread for everyone, and each of the apostles even manages to gather a whole basket of leftovers. And this is the same Christ who said that a person lives "not by bread alone" and refused to engage in social reforms!

To understand this event, it is necessary to turn to the biblical parallels for such a mass feeding of people: the manna that God gave Israel in the wilderness. And also to the prophecies that in the triumph of God's Kingdom people will be filled with bread. For the first readers and hearers of the Gospel, the allusion to these sacred texts meant that God's Kingdom was already being realized in Jesus; in Him God had already come to people.

This story was undoubtedly associated for them with their own experience of divine life, into which they entered through the breaking of the bread: thanksgiving, blessing, breaking, distribution of bread, and gathering of leftovers were all actions involved in the celebration of the Eucharistic meal. In that meal, as in this story, the basic human concepts - bread, life, God - are forever connected with the person of Jesus.

Christ rejects none of those who rush toward Him. Moreover, Christ does not even require that those who come to Him already understand the meaning of His coming. He sees perfectly well that people are asking for the satisfaction of everyday needs. But the fact that the people are ready to follow Him even into the wilderness says that those who listen are ready to receive from Him something greater than relief in the conditions of earthly existence. Thus the spiritual path leading to the heavenly goal begins with something small and earthly.

Let us note that all this takes place in anxious days shortly after John's execution, when it was unclear what to expect from Herod. Christ's desire in those days to be alone is entirely natural; it is a distant echo of the solitude in Gethsemane. But this time a crowd rushed after Christ, which increased the risk of provocations from both Herod and the Romans.

Yet, despite all the dangers, Jesus drives no one away. Moreover, on His own initiative He heals the sick. The evangelist notes that He had compassion on them. Let us add only that He came to us and went up to Golgotha because He had compassion on all of us.

Caring for the people, Christ does not want to send them into the nearby villages for food. Just try to imagine what might have happened if hungry crowds, with night approaching, had rushed out for bread... So He delivered people not only from hunger, but also from many other troubles, when He proposed that the apostles feed them. He could have created some kind of food Himself, but it is important to Him that the disciples take part in this. Let us note that after blessing it, He broke the bread found by the disciples and gave it specifically to the disciples, and they gave it to the people.

It is hardly accidental that the evangelist notes that before the meal began Jesus looked up to heaven. His blessing of the bread, eaten before the face of the Heavenly Father, makes us remember the Eucharist, the fact that at the Last Supper He will call the bread His Body. There is a suggestion that at the multiplication the bread was passed from hand to hand as was customary at a Jewish meal. The one seated at the head of the meal would break off a piece from a large loaf and give both parts to his neighbor; that person would take the small piece and, breaking off another for the next person, would pass it on together with the large loaf. In that case the loaves were multiplied in the hands of those who ate, and everyone became a participant in the miracle. So too the Lord wants to see us as His coworkers.

Today we see how the Lord fulfills His pastoral duties toward the disciples. Sometimes the circumstances of His life are such that, in order to feed the disciples and save them from destruction, He has to perform miracles. He truly has to, for we know that Jesus never used His divine authority over nature to entice people with “signs.” Yet the miraculous character of His help and care serves to strengthen the faith of the disciples, the future preachers of His Gospel. Twice they find themselves in a hopeless situation: first in a hungry wilderness where there is nowhere to obtain bread, and then in a watery wilderness, alone without the Teacher and on the brink of death. Both times He comes to their aid, doing the impossible. Peter's bold request, ready as he is to step onto the waves and walk toward Jesus, arises precisely from the apostles' new faith that the Lord will never abandon them, but will always support and strengthen them, even if this requires Him to “alter the order of nature.”