NOTES for Pe1 2:11-25

Jesus is truly "meek and lowly in heart" (Matt 11:29). It is not very easy for us to understand what meekness is. Someone once noted with striking accuracy: "Meekness is the tenderness of the strong." This quality does not belong to someone who is weak, but to someone who is truly strong: Jesus is not weak; He is utterly strong, but He does not use that strength - He reveals love. The apostle Paul wrote about this in the Letter to the Philippians (Phil 2:6-8).

We constantly encounter evil in this life - both what is objectively evil and what only appears so to us. And we constantly want to "resist," to set an answering force against this evil force, so that the force of opposition is no less than the force of the attack. But both foremost apostles unanimously set Christ Himself before us as an example, calling us not to answer evil with evil, not to oppose force with force, but to overcome evil with good, with real love - not for evil, of course, but for people who have fallen under its power.

Without question, this is beyond our own strength; it is natural for us to react to pain inflicted on us. That is why the apostles so often speak of the need to put on Christ, the full armor of God, so that in a critical situation it is not I who act, but Christ, in whom I abide.

Speaking about the Savior's earthly ministry, Peter, like the other apostles, pays special attention to His death on the cross. He sees the meaning of precisely this death in the fact that it made possible for the faithful complete deliverance from the power of sin, opening righteousness to them in all its fullness. What does he mean?

Of course, by this time the Jewish people already knew well the examples of righteous people who ended their lives as martyrs, and many of those examples belonged to comparatively recent times. Each such example became a living testimony that righteousness is more important than life; that the main question of human life is not how long one lives - and not even whether one lives or dies - but how one lives and how one dies. And Jesus' death on the cross was a perfect proof of this, especially since, unlike an ordinary fallen human being, death was not inevitable for Him at all: He made His choice free from the thought that sooner or later He would have to die - a thought that makes the prospect of a soon martyr's end easier for some people.

But if Jesus' martyr's death had simply been the death of a righteous man and witness, it would have differed in no way from the death of those who died for their righteousness or for their testimony long before His coming into the world. Such a death can be an example for others, but it cannot free anyone from sin, which in our fallen world weighs upon everyone. The point, however, is that Jesus died not simply as a witness of the Kingdom. He died for the sake of the Kingdom He brought into the world. Had He refused His earthly path (and in a fallen world that path inevitably had to end in violent death), the Kingdom would not have entered our world and would have remained alien to it. Then, of course, there would be no question of any victory over sin or any fullness of righteousness. Then nothing in the world would have changed at all; even today it would remain what it had been for many millennia before Christ's coming.

And the apostle, of course, understands this perfectly. He understands who Jesus is and what He has done. And he reminds the recipients of his letter of this, because without such understanding there is no Christianity.

Speaking of the Christian life and of Christians, Peter compares the Savior to an overseer or guard who watches over the safety of those entrusted to Him. The corresponding Greek word can, of course, be translated differently, in a more “elevated” way, but its original meaning is exactly this: guard, overseer, watchman. In Gospel times, however, it also had another meaning.

In those days among the Jews there were religious brotherhoods of a special kind, whose members regularly gathered together for common meals, usually connected with one or another feast; the most frequent were the Sabbath meals, celebrated every week. In such brotherhoods there were special ministers who presided over the gatherings, called deacons in Greek, and there were special administrators responsible for organizing the meeting and maintaining order during it. This was especially important when the brotherhood was numerous, and such ministers were called bishops in Greek, that is, overseers.

It is precisely by this word that Peter calls Jesus in his epistle. At first glance such a title may seem strange. Indeed, in the terminology of that time it would have been more logical to call the Savior a deacon, a minister, the head of the fraternal community, and the early Christian Church in its form really did resemble a religious brotherhood. It was the minister-deacon who presided over the assembly, broke the bread, and recited the prayer of blessing over the bread and wine.

But the bishop had, among other things, another duty: he had to remember all the members of the brotherhood by name and take care of them. If, for example, one of the brothers did not appear at the assembly for a fairly long time, usually a month, it was the bishop who had to find out the reason. And if it turned out that this person was ill, for instance, or had some other problems, the bishop had to organize whatever help the brotherhood could provide. The bishop had to keep in mind not only the problems of the brotherhood as a whole, but also the problems of each individual person, caring for concrete people who needed help.

By calling the Savior a bishop, Peter evidently wants to emphasize what Jesus Himself said more than once when describing the meaning of His ministry: each person who can be saved matters to Him, each individual person with all his problems. For in the Kingdom there are no masses and collectives; there are concrete people who love Christ and are loved by Him.