NOTES for Mar 2:13-28

Today's reading is a short but rich description of Jesus' preaching in His native Galilee, where He, as is clear, often preached not only in houses and synagogues, but also in the open air (v. 13; by "sea" here is meant not the Mediterranean Sea, but Lake Gennesaret). People whose reputation in the society of believers was not very good often found themselves in the same house with Him and at the same table (v. 15).

In the Gospels, "tax collectors" are collectors of taxes and tribute, like Levi son of Alphaeus, who is mentioned in the passage (v. 14). In Jewish society they were considered traitors, because they collected taxes for the treasury of the Roman Empire, under whose power Palestine was at that time, and many regarded them as accomplices of the occupying authorities. It is no wonder that such respected people among believers as the scribes and Pharisees did not care for this kind of company (v. 16).

In the Gospels, "Pharisees" are members of special religious brotherhoods that existed at that time around the synagogues. They were the most active part of the Synagogue; the Pharisees devoted much time to preaching, not only among Jews but often among Gentiles, to charity, and to religious education. With good reason they considered themselves the core of the synagogue community, and being near people who, from this point of view, had no standing, people known for an obviously unrighteous way of life, of course had to offend them. Besides, they did not consider such people worthy of fellowship with a Teacher like Jesus, and they considered it shameful for Him to sit at one table with them.

As for Jesus Himself, on the contrary, He considers such people worthy not of rejection, but of help: each of them can repent of his sins and turn to God (v. 17). And He does not treat religious life as formally as many religious people did at that time. For Him both fasting and the Sabbath are not ends in themselves, but means for establishing a relationship with God, so necessary for the human person, who always remains the main goal (vv. 27-28). Such a position, of course, inevitably had to lead to conflict with religious formalists, for whom any departures from established norms and rules are unacceptable by definition. So the image of new wine poured into an old wineskin, or skins (v. 22), could hardly have produced anything in them except irritation.

The traditional Yahwist, and later Jewish, understanding of sin and its consequences was fairly strict, even severe. One could be cleansed only from a sin committed unintentionally - from weakness, for example, from ignorance or carelessness. Cleansing was not identical with repentance. Repentance meant that a person recognized sin as such, precisely as sin, turned to God, felt remorse, and inwardly renounced what had been done. It was understood that God in any case forgives the one who sincerely repents, but forgiveness did not yet mean cleansing. Cleansing meant the possibility of being freed from the consequences of the sin that had been committed. If no cleansing took place, those consequences continued to weigh on a person, hindering normal communion with God and depriving the person of the prospect of entering the Kingdom of the Messiah, or, as it was also called in those days, the Kingdom of the age to come.

Such strictness was not, of course, the result of some special vindictiveness or formalism among believers. It only reflected the realities of the fallen world with the overpowering rule of evil and sin. Once a person had voluntarily handed himself over to the power of sin, he later found himself powerless before it; he could no longer break free from that power. Tax collectors, that is, collectors of tribute who worked for the Roman administration, were considered precisely voluntary sinners. No one had forced them to do what they were doing, and from the very beginning they knew what they were undertaking. They also knew that there would be no road back for them, since it was impossible to be cleansed from the consequences of a consciously committed sin.

One can imagine what these people must have felt when they learned that they too had the possibility of becoming part of the people of God again, of being cleansed and receiving a chance to begin everything with a clean slate. Many of them had no doubt later repented and regretted the choice they had once made, but there was nowhere for them to go. And then suddenly there appears the One who promises the possibility of what had previously been impossible. No wonder the tax collectors and others of the same sort, people who had once consciously sinned and had now repented, follow Jesus: He is their only hope.

For the devout Pharisees, however, proud of their religious purity, this turn of events is more a cause for irritation than for joy. What meaning do all their efforts to keep themselves pure have now, if those who did nothing of the kind are being given the same possibilities they have? The first reaction of religious consciousness to this situation is: we tried in vain; all our efforts have turned out to be useless.

Jesus speaks directly: He came to call to repentance those to whom it had previously been closed, real sinners and not formally righteous people. What matters to Him is to save everyone who can be saved, not to flatter the religious vanity of those who take pride in their imagined righteousness.

It appears that there is nothing strange in this verse; this is exactly how everything should have happened. Jesus says, "Go," and Matthew gets up and goes. The only strange thing is that a man leaves a profitable, though not very respected, job as a tax collector, asks no questions, rises, and follows the first person he meets. Only a theoretical and superficial observation of the Gospel narrative can draw sentimental rosy pictures here. It is enough to think about what is happening to understand how powerfully the presence of Jesus affected everyone who encountered Him.

All of us who do not see Him as they saw Him should thank God for His mercy, because we do not face the most demanding spiritual choice: to acknowledge that this Man of flesh and blood is God. To acknowledge that He is not equal to all the rest.

To grasp this impossible and incredible fact is a serious problem for a person, especially a person of our time, accustomed to postulating the relativity of everything, even good and evil. But the need to decide how you personally relate to this fact does not disappear. For Jesus is the refusal of relativity, because He is the Truth. That is exactly why His presence will always cause so many problems and appear inconvenient and untimely. Because it forces us to decide whether we are following Him or not.

It seems there is nothing strange in this verse; this is exactly how everything should have taken place. Jesus says: “follow me ", - Matthew gets up and follows Him. It is strange that a man abandons the work of collector of taxes which is profitable, although not much respectable; he doesn’t give questions, he just gets up and follows the first comer. Only a speculative and superficial observation of the evangelic narrative can painter upon these good images of pink color. We only need to ponder what is taking place here, to understand how the presence of Jesus strongly operates on all those who come across Him. Each of us, who doesn’t see Him as they saw Him, should thank God of His mercy, because we don’t have in front of us the most important spiritual choice: admit that this Man by flesh and blood is God. Recognize that He is not equal to the other people. To acknowledge this incredible and improbable fact is a serious problem to Man, particularly nowadays Man who used to postulate for everything, even for good and bad. But the need to define our personal position to this fact does not disappear. Because Jesus is the rejection of relativity, since He is the Truth; and that is why His presence will always cause so many problems, will seem uncomfortable and inopportune; because it compels us to take a position: are we going or not with Him.

The scribes grumbling against Christ can be understood. Near Him they see people with whom a "normal" righteous believer would never even speak, much less sit at table... Bribe takers and racketeers, collaborators and "ordinary" sinners who are not concerned about scrupulously carrying out rituals... Homeless people and the mentally ill, vagrants and women of dubious reputation: all those who have cut themselves off from God, who have no right to hope for His mercy. And out of these people He wants to gather the Remnant of Israel?

But God's mercy surpasses our understanding. The Lord says, "I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." And in another place He says that tax collectors and sinners are going into the Kingdom of God ahead of you. They simply heard the voice of Jesus, heard His word of hope, and responded to His call to repentance. An important practical conclusion follows from these words of Christ. First, the possibility of repentance and amendment is closed to no one. And second, you can find the Kingdom of God only if you acknowledge that you are no better than those very sinners who are so unpleasant to you yourself.

We can understand the scribes murmuring about Jesus Christ. They see near Him people with whom a “normal” righteous Christian would never talk to, not talking of sitting down to a table…Bribetakers and racketeers, collaborationists and “common” sinners, who don’t care about the scrupulous fulfillment of rites…Homeless people, lunatics, vagabonds and doubtful girls – everyone, who excommunicated himself from God, who don’t have the right to expect God’s mercy. Is it from these people He wants to gather the Remnant?

But God’s mercy surpasses our understanding. “I came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance” says the Lord. He says in another place that tax collectors and sinners will enter the Kingdom of God before us. Because they listened to the voice of Jesus, heard His words of hope and responded to His call to repent. An important pragmatic conclusion comes out of these Jesus’ words. Firstly, the possibility to repent and redress is open to everyone. Secondly, we can find the Kingdom of God only if we admit that we aren’t in anything better than those sinners, who are so unpleasant to us.

Why does the evangelist Mark, writing down for Romans the content of the apostle Peter's preaching, transmit this conversation of Christ with the Pharisees? And why did Peter tell about it? Clearly, the point is that the subject of the discussion is characteristic not only of the Pharisees, but belongs to the religious consciousness of humanity as a whole.

The point is that in any spirituality, besides God's revelation, which may in fact be absent, for example in some cannibalistic orgiastic cults, there is a human element. First, it includes what we did not hear clearly in Revelation or were unable to understand in it and therefore fill in by our own reasoning. And the Almighty said that His ways are not our ways, and His thoughts are not our thoughts. An example is the petty vindictiveness that is often attributed to the Deity. Second, in any spirituality, including biblical spirituality, both Old Testament and New Testament, there is what God determines in order to help us grow, in the apostle's words, to the measure of the full stature of Christ. This includes various means of spiritual life, as well as a noticeable share of ritual practice.

But a human being is inclined to deify these human components of religion. Therefore Christ's words, "No one pours new wine into old wineskins..." in today's Gospel reading are not so much a rebuke to the Pharisees as a warning to us when we lack the courage to worship in spirit and truth.

If we listen carefully to Christ's words, it becomes clear that the new wine of the New Covenant differs in principle from the old wine of the Old Covenant: the form of worship of Christ's disciples is determined by the fact that the whole fullness of the Godhead has been revealed to us bodily.

Using a modern example, one can put it this way. A person who pours new wine into old wineskins, to whom shall we compare him? He is like a driver who carefully watches the speedometer, the fuel and temperature gauges, and listens to the engine. But he is not looking at the road...

Most Old Testament mentions of fasting tell us the following. First, it is a way to preserve purity, that is, a way to be perfected and become better. Second, and this appears much more often, people fasted in order to turn away coming misfortunes from themselves. We may recall the residents of Nineveh, who heeded the preaching of the prophet Jonah (Jonah 3:5), and Queen Esther (Esther 4:16), who asked the whole Jewish people to fast together with her. Both of these meanings bring us back to the idea that fasting was a sacrifice to God, undertaken with a view to one outcome of events or another. But most importantly, fasting, like everything else any Jew did, was meant to bring the coming of the Messiah closer.

But Christ's preaching, His death on the cross, and His Resurrection renew the words of the prophet Isaiah about the true meaning of fasting (Isa 58:6-7): mercy and love. Because only such a fast returns us to Him, makes us at least a little like Him, and restores the image of God to the human person.

Now the promise has been fulfilled and Christ has come to humanity, and every action of ours is filled with another meaning. The old wineskins of waiting for salvation burst from the wine of the new Good News: yes, salvation has come; yes, Christ is with us. For our sake, out of love for people, He endured suffering on the cross in order to redeem us from slavery to sin.

And then something altogether different is required of us Christians: to become His presence in the world, to loose the bonds of injustice, to show mercy toward others, to forget ourselves, and to live in love.

In speaking with the Pharisees, who considered themselves guardians of tradition and champions of strict observance of all religious norms and rules, Jesus constantly returns them to the true, original meaning of those norms. The same is true of fasting.

Indeed, the original meaning of fasting in the Semitic world, and therefore among the Jews, came down to mourning, whether mourning for a deceased relative or mourning connected with some tragic event on a national scale. Later, already in the postexilic period, fasting in Judaism also became a sign of repentance for one's personal sins. Still later it turned into a kind of pious religious custom.

Of course, formally the connection between fasting and repentance was preserved in Gospel times, but by then it was precisely and chiefly formal: special days were established for fasting, two during the week, and practically everyone was expected to fast unless he wanted to be known as an impious person and a violator of religious traditions.

Jesus, as we can see, returns fasting to its original meaning: one can and should fast when God leaves and the Kingdom grows distant. But for the inhabitants of the Kingdom, when they experience its life in fullness, fasting is out of the question. The point here is not piety or impiety, but the fact that in this case fasting simply loses its real meaning. What remains is only an external, purely religious formality that in essence has no relation to spiritual life.

But religious formalities are not needed in the Kingdom: by themselves they are spiritually fruitless, and the life of the Kingdom cannot fit into them, just as new wine cannot fit into an old wineskin. The wine ferments, and the worn-out wineskin cannot withstand it. The life of the Kingdom will find new forms for itself on earth, in the world being transformed, in place of the old ones, and there is nothing tragic in this: after all, tradition too has meaning only as an expression and embodiment of spiritual life and spiritual experience. Fasting too is appropriate in its own place and in its own time.

Of course, in a world that is being transformed but has not yet been transformed completely, the inhabitants of the Kingdom will have not only joys, but sorrows as well. There is a time for everything, including fasting. The main thing is that fasting not turn into an empty formality. The same is true of all other religious traditions.

What does this text give us now, when Christ has already been crucified and therefore, by the logic of this text, has already been taken away? Is it only testimony in favor of the correctness of our established custom of fasting, or something more? What does that period mean for us, when the disciples "did not fast," a period in which we would appear to have no part? Did the Lord not illumine all the ages that followed by His presence on earth? Is there really some essential difference between us and those who saw Him in the flesh? After all, we call ourselves His disciples, as they were. Then what is the difference? We are probably mistaken when it feels as if we have grasped the logic of the Gospel text, because even if we take only the logical dimension of one passage or another, it is very complex, fractal, and multidimensional.

In A. K. Tolstoy's poem "John of Damascus" there are these words: "Why was I not born in that time, / When among us, in the flesh, / Bearing the painful burden, / He walked life's road! / Why can I not bear, / O my Lord, Your chains, / Suffer with Your suffering, / And take Your cross upon my shoulders..." What we actually grieve over is not the joy of sitting at the same table with Him, higher than which there may be nothing, but rather the fact that I was not given the chance to share His pain... But is that fully true? Let us remember: "as you did it to one of the least of these My brothers, you did it to Me" (Matt 25:40). We have not been deprived of the happiness of taking up His cross. That means we have not been deprived of the joy of being with Him either.

Yes, but do we still need fasting? We do, because this shared presence is hidden; yet there are moments in the church year when fasting is no longer important: Easter. Do you remember the Paschal homily of St. John Chrysostom: "Therefore enter all of you into the joy of our Lord; first and second, receive your reward; rich and poor, rejoice together; sober and careless, honor this day; you who fasted and you who did not fast, rejoice today. The table is richly laden; enjoy it, all of you." It is precisely at this moment that the meaning of today's passage is revealed with special force as something alive here and now.

Apparently, Jesus is against “the calendar” of devotion, against the reduction of cheerful relations with God into the execution of preset schedules. From this point of view, fasting has value only when we feel that Christ’s presence is insufficient in our live, and fasting is senseless when the presence of God near us becomes clear. Such as the Sabbath was established for Man, and not Man for the Sabbath, so fasting is made for Man, and not Man for fasting. But, on the other hand, can we ever say that His presence is sufficient to us? “Wait moment, you are wonderful “? Then, it comes out that fasting can be meaningful in any moment. The Church’s experience which helps us to establish a certain rhythm to our hesitation “fasting- no fasting” brings us out of this paradox. The Church preeminently helps, and it is necessary not to perceive it somehow differently.

This verse-parable is very short and as usual hits the mark. These “new bottles” became a stable word-combination, almost a cliché not fortuitously. Thus, the literal sense of the parable is obvious: anyone who met even just once with the young wine knows his “explosive character”. The evangelical sense is quite distinct too: are doomed to failure any attempts “to stick” Christ’s living, “boiling”, energetic teachings into decaying forms of rabbinic interpretations of the Old Testament’s commandments. But, it seems that this parable is still new nowadays. The Living God, dwelling in live relation with people, opens to them new ways of Christian life in a changeable world. Do some of our established religious forms don’t turn out to be “old bottles”, powerless in new circumstances? It is not of course a matter of religious devotion, which the Lord’s Supper and the Pentecost are the source; there are indeed different forms…

The Sabbath, Shabbat in Judaism, is the foundation of foundations. Without observance of Shabbat there is no Judaism; this is clear to every observant Jew, and Gospel times differ from ours in this respect not at all. But what does it mean to observe Shabbat? For the religious consciousness it means above all observing the corresponding ritual prohibitions. Already in those days there were practically as many such prohibitions as there are today, so many that a person, unless he was born and raised in an Orthodox Jewish environment, usually found it completely impossible to observe them all: he would inevitably forget something, make a mistake somewhere, and do something forbidden.

The Pharisees, being deeply and in their own way sincerely religious people, were precisely the ones who watched to make sure the prohibitions were not violated. Plucking ears of grain is also work, and like any work it is forbidden on Shabbat, which means that Jesus' disciples violated Shabbat.

The Pharisees point out this violation to the Teacher. They think that He is simply instructing His disciples poorly, that He is not teaching them to observe Shabbat as they should, and therefore He is the first one to be held accountable. But Jesus answers them in a completely unexpected way, recalling the well-known story described in the Book of Kingdoms, when the high priest gave the bread of the Presence to David, who was hiding from Saul, food reserved exclusively for priests. By doing this he appeared to violate the Torah, which forbids anyone except priests to eat the bread of the Presence. And the prohibition here is direct; this is not a list of Shabbat ritual prohibitions compiled by commentators.

There are, however, situations in which even what is usually forbidden may be done. Shabbat cannot and must not turn into an end in itself; it is only a means, as is the whole cult and the whole ritual. Once this is forgotten and they are made the goal, religious ritualism and legalism take the place of spiritual life and communion with God, and they kill that life. These are simple things, but they have to be remembered, above all by people who are deeply and, in their own way, sincerely religious.

In the Pharisees' disputes with Christ about the Sabbath, the fundamental difference lies in what is considered important. The Pharisaic position, at first glance, is simple: it is written, "Do not do any of your work on the Sabbath," so we will not do it. Come what may, we will be at peace. After all, we have fulfilled the commandment, and we will not let anyone find fault with us, not even the One who gave that commandment. He will simply be forced to give the Pharisee the blessings of paradise, because everything has been fulfilled. Thus the Pharisee himself and his experience of his own righteousness stand at the center. The drive toward formal fulfillment of the commandments carries within it a hidden desire to shield all the "rest" of life, the part not reducible to commandments, from the Creator's intervention.

But for the Son of God, the living person stands at the center: the one who suffers and is in need. Formally the commandment may even be violated, but at the same time God's love and God's mercy enter the world and act within it. Rebuking the Pharisees, the Lord Jesus says that goodness and the salvation of the soul must be the true value: "Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do evil, to save life or to destroy it?" When we need to make decisions of this kind, it is important to remember the simple and practical criterion Christ Himself gives us here.

The commandment about the Sabbath is given by God Himself in the Law of Moses; moreover, its observance is declared to be the sign of the covenant God made with His people. Can one call a human being (and the phrase "son of man," without capital letters, which do not exist in oral speech, simply means "a human being") lord over such an important commandment of God? Yet Jesus does exactly this. In what case is this possible? Not when the commandment is not fulfilled, but when it is surpassed. The meaning of this commandment is that a person should devote one day out of seven to the works of God. It is a kind of "tithe" offered to God, only not in money or fruit, but in time. Then it becomes clear that a person becomes not the slave of this commandment, but its lord, when he gives God more than one seventh of his life. For example, like the Son of Man, he gives his whole life. Once again we see that for Jesus it is obvious that service to God is not "calendar-based" but constant. He is free from slavery to this commandment because every day of His is a "Sabbath," a day given to God.