NOTES for Mat 1:18-25

The readings before the feast of Christmas return us to the incredible and impossible event that has become ordinary and routine for us. God became man and walked the path appointed for each of us. When we speak about Christmas, the brightness and contrast of this event are too often blurred against the background of the rest of history. The human mind tries to fit the incomprehensible inside itself by simply treating the Incarnation as an ordinary thing. The best thing to do in this situation is to imitate Saint Joseph. That means accepting what is impossible for human beings but possible for God, and at the same time not treating God's incarnation as something self-evident.

Matthew, recounting the Annunciation, reveals to us this incomparable event through the person of Joseph, leaving Mary as if in the background. What moved the evangelist: only the patriarchal mindset characteristic of Israelites at that time, or was the less detailed account of Mary prompted by a delicacy that is hard for us to appreciate after many centuries of deserved glorification of the Mother of God? In any case, while giving thanks to the One who became the Mother of our Savior, let us not forget the one who was protector and provider: Joseph.

The account of the Annunciation lets us see that one can memorize the literal wording of an important text and still not understand its real meaning. For those who awaited the coming of a savior with the name Emmanuel, the sound of the name became more important than its meaning. Yet the meaning of the name Emmanuel, God with us, was revealed with the coming of the One whose name sounded different. Here we see one example of how, by being immoderately concerned with observing the form, one can miss the essence. This, however, does not cancel the importance of properly observing the form.

Many of us often simply fail to notice Joseph the Betrothed. Sometimes we pray to him together with Mary, the Mother of God. And we understand that, since he was the foster father of Jesus Christ, he is of course a saint, yet we may never consider why he is a saint.

There is one thing that is hard not to notice: he listens to God and hears Him. This means that Joseph is constantly ready to obey God, wants to do His will, and prays a great deal, listening in prayer to what God will tell him. He takes Mary into his home, although doing so is shameful and dangerous, for people may think that she conceived a child by another man and was unfaithful to him. He agrees to the name Jesus, although the father usually chooses the name. He continually goes wherever God directs him.

We can ask Saint Joseph the Betrothed to teach us the listening prayer of a disciple, obedience, and trust in God, for he knew how to practice them.

Having learned that Mary was pregnant, Joseph decides to release her quietly so as not to disgrace her. He does not disclose her secret, does not accuse her, but seeks to protect her. He is so sensitive to other people and their needs that his ear was able to discern the voice of the angel saying that "that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit." Hearing this, Joseph obeyed and took Mary into his house, even though she was expecting a child.

Addressing Joseph, the angel speaks in words from Isaiah: "Behold, the Virgin shall conceive and bear a Son." Perhaps it was precisely these words from Holy Scripture that finally convinced the saint to heed God's messenger. Words of prophecy that lived in his heart, that had taken root in him beforehand, became support at the necessary moment in making a decision.

Sometimes, when making a decision, we want an angel to come and show us what to do and how to do it. But if we are not deeply rooted in Holy Scripture, in what language will he speak to us?..

Today we read about perhaps the most terrible moment in the life of Saint Joseph. The girl whom he loved, whom he considered the purest and most beautiful - this girl is pregnant by someone unknown... For Joseph this had to become a catastrophe.

Joseph does not wish Mary harm; he understands perfectly well what will happen to Her if anyone else learns about this (in Israel adultery carried a terrible punishment, stoning). Therefore he wants to give Her some chance to hide what he, undoubtedly, cannot help considering a sin. It must have taken Joseph enormous effort to make any decision at all.

And what a shock the Angel's words must have been for him! It is astonishing that Joseph accepts such incredible news. It would be foolish to suppose that he had little idea where children come from, and therefore the revelation that Mary's Child is from the Holy Spirit sounds to him even more absurd and incomprehensible than it does to us: we have all heard this story from childhood, while Joseph could remember only one single prophecy, which the Angel reminds him of. And so great is Saint Joseph's trust both in God and in Mary that he believes what he has heard without hesitation.

Each evangelist describes the Nativity, setting the emphases in his own way. Matthew pays special attention to Joseph. It would seem that in this case Joseph's role is more that of an observer than of an active participant. But that is only at first glance. And it is not only that he had to accept what was happening as part of his own life. The point is that on earth he was to become, in effect, the adoptive father of the Messiah. He did not become, and could not become, His father by blood. But every child, even one born as the Messiah was born, needs a father. Not only the heavenly Father, but also an earthly father. If not a biological one, then an adoptive one. After all, the Messiah had to grow up as a Man. It is not easy for a boy without a father to grow up as a man with a capital M, even when we understand that capital letter in human terms.

If the Messiah had been meant to grow up less a Man than anyone else, perhaps He would not have needed an earthly father at all. But He had to grow up more truly Man than any of us. And therefore an earthly father was absolutely necessary for Him. Only such a father had to be one who could in no way and by nothing harm Him, who could not even inadvertently introduce into His human nature anything incompatible with the fullness of God that the Messiah bears within Himself from the very moment of His conception.

There is little hope in flesh and blood here, not because they are nature, but because in humanity's present condition they are fallen nature. And until the complete transfiguration of the human person, this cannot be corrected. The spiritual life of a person is different: here, even in the fallen state, much can be achieved. A person's soul is more easily corrected than his body. And if it does not become ideal, it is at least possible to make sure that its sinfulness does not poison the life of one's neighbor.

This is, of course, not simple. Direct help from God and effort from the person himself are needed, but a result can be achieved here. Therefore the adoptive father remained the only option in the case of the Messiah, whose human nature had to remain free from sin. And Joseph's consent to this path was required. By taking his wife, he gives God that consent. And he becomes the earthly father of the Messiah. Adoptive, but no less real for that.

What is family life? What is each spouse's share in it? Different people answer this question in different ways, and it is hard to find two completely identical families. So much psychological and religious literature has been written about family relationships that by now one could drown in it. Meanwhile, family problems do not appear to have become fewer.

Perhaps this is because in these books, and often even in religious books, marriage is discussed as a union of two people. In fact, it is never a union of two. It is always a union of three. It is a union in which God participates as the third, whether or not the spouses think about Him. Even whether or not they know about His participation. In this respect family life resembles human life in general: we become human beings because of the breath of life that God breathes into us at conception, but we can live our whole life without remembering God even once. God does not force Himself on us. He will not remind us of Himself if we ourselves do not want to remember Him.

And if we do remember Him, we will have to think about how much room in our life we are ready to give Him. This applies fully to family and married life, just as it does to life in general. The more self-will there is in our life, the less room there is for God with His plans and designs. And, accordingly, the less He can influence our life. God can do something in our life only with our consent. There are also things that only He Himself can do in it. In that case all that remains for us is to step aside, yielding the field of action to Him. This applies fully to the birth of the Messiah. He had to be born free from the power of the sin that entered the world with the fall.

Human nature, if it had been directed even a little by human will, could only have spoiled the matter here. It had to be given entirely into the power of God's will. Only He Himself could solve this supremely difficult task. From Mary only one "yes" was required, after which her body was no longer under her own control: it became the place where that breath of God acted, the breath to which everything is subject, even original sin.

And from Joseph, the Messiah's adoptive father, only one thing was required: to be near and not interfere with this action. Such is every conception: God always participates in it, revealing His presence and His action as much as the future parents allow Him to. It depends on the parents how much their child will belong to God. The Messiah had to belong to God absolutely. And the possibility of His birth into the world turned out to be connected not only with the "yes" Mary said to God, but also with the "yes" Joseph said to God's angel. Joseph, who through this "yes" became the Messiah's adoptive father.

In the story of the birth of Jesus Christ in the manger, with the cave, the shepherds, and the angels, there is nothing sentimental or sweetly touching. But there is much that is majestic and solemn. We should not be embarrassed by the modest setting of a village stable and the poverty of the guests: this is a true messianic feast.

Everything here points to Jesus’ distant ancestor and the most famous anointed king, that is, in Greek, Christ, David: his native city Bethlehem, the occupation of the shepherds, for David himself was a shepherd for his father, and the striking parallels with the One who will also be Shepherd for His Father. He too is born to be King, Anointed One, Christ; He too, as the “least of the brothers,” will by a miracle, by God’s power, defeat the Enemy and “remove disgrace from Israel” (compare 1 Sam. 17 or Ps. 151). The evangelist, knowing the whole subsequent story, was able to discern glory in the ordinary and poor life of a family overtaken by childbirth at night in a stable. We too know this story, but do we know how to truly see?

La Vielle de Noël

Nothing has begun yet. Already everything is past.
From edge to edge a soft haze has veiled the light.
Moisture streams from the fog - now rain, now snow.
No valleys, no mountains, no lakes, no rivers can be made out.
Silently creeping up, from edge to edge
one single haze covers every distance,
Without shape, without colors, and without bounds, a whitish veil.
Two steps away nothing can be seen, and in the thawing snow the footprint sinks
Of this unknown couple, for whom
there is no room in the inn.
On the face of the deep, darkness again, as it was
before the beginning of time.
Everything droops into the languor of nonbeing, into fog and sleep.
Like a fir beneath the snow, like a beast in its den, the will drowses, and reason is silent.
Maybe the heart of love keeps watch, yet love itself
sleeps and sleeps.
Quiet and muffled, hour after hour, the eye is fogged,
and the mind is blind -
Until sensitive midnight makes out an infant's cry.

(S. S. Averintsev, Geneva, 24.12.1994)
La Vielle de Noël - Christmas Eve (French)

For whom is the Savior born? Are you sure He is born for you? The whole world renounced Christ in advance, giving Him, the newborn Child, only a feeding trough for livestock. The first subjects of the new King turn out to be simple shepherds.

But Christ is born not only for those who are ready to receive Him. The Angel proclaims unambiguously: joy will be for all people. By human reasoning, the world is always divided into good and bad, into those worthy and unworthy of salvation. But the moment heaven opens even briefly, the choir of the heavenly host is heard: Christ is for all.

Each evangelist describes the Nativity of Christ in his own way, drawing attention to the events that seem most important to him. Among the events of the Nativity, Luke gives special attention to the signs God gave that pointed to Jesus as the Messiah. The first of these signs was the revelation received by shepherds who were nearby Bethlehem (v. 8). The meaning of the revelation was quite clear. The angel who appeared before the shepherds tells them directly that the Messiah awaited by the people has been born, and the rejoicing joy of heaven confirms the significance of what is happening (vv. 9-14).

It would seem that shepherds were not the most suitable people to be the first to hear the news about the Messiah who had been born. They had neither power and authority nor knowledge. If they had wanted to tell others what they had seen, they would have been believed last, if they were believed at all. At first glance it may seem that such people have little to do with the events of spiritual life, since they are not at all like the religious activists, such as the Pharisees, who were completely sure that they, of course, would meet the Messiah before anyone else.

But Christ, as can be seen, comes to everyone, not only to those who lead an intense religious life. He comes to those who are waiting for him and are ready to receive him. And this by no means always depends on a person's religious activity. Paradoxically, such activity can sometimes even get in the way. The shepherds are simple people, and their reaction to the revelation they receive is simple too: let us go and see (v. 15)! And when they came to Bethlehem and saw the infant Christ there, they simply told, as best they could, what they had seen (vv. 16-18). Then they went back, glorifying God for the birth of the promised Messiah (v. 20).

It is enough to compare this simple account, this witness, with the theological disputes that almost every word and deed of Jesus will provoke among the same Pharisees and teachers of the Torah, to understand why the revelation about the birth of the Messiah is given precisely to shepherds. Had learned rabbis been in their place, the Virgin Mary would most likely have had to wait a long time for the witness to Christ's birth that was so important to her (v. 19), for before recognizing anyone as the Messiah, the matter had to be thoroughly investigated. But God more often needs witnesses than theologians. He does not need us to analyze and evaluate his works. It is quite enough for him that others hear about them from us.

It is impossible for a human being to realize and understand what happened. Not only because the very fact of the Nativity, the way all this happens, is from a human point of view complete absurdity. It is also because through it a person receives the possibility of understanding how God loves. His love for each person is at the same time a father's love for a child and a small child's love for its parents. Strictness, responsibility, care, and self-sacrifice are fused with tenderness, complete trust, and the need to be always near. This is what His Love looks like. He wants us to hold Him in our arms, not let Him go, and in this way He will give us everything, protect us, and give us peace. He gives Himself to us, and as a child smiles at any mother, so He loves us as we are. And by entrusting His life to our keeping, He is simply trusting us as no one ever has and no one ever will.

Translated from Greek, the word "gospel" means "good news." And the meaning of this good news lay precisely in the fact that the Messiah whom the people of God had awaited for centuries had finally come into the world. This is what the angels announce to the shepherds. They call the newborn Messiah Lord and Savior.

The corresponding Greek word, however, is often interpreted as "Lord," meaning Yahweh, whose name in Greek texts was usually replaced by a word translated as "master" or "lord"; in Greek there is no difference between "master" and "lord." That is why it is sometimes not simple to determine what is being spoken of in a concrete Greek text. With Hebrew texts it is simpler: there the name Yahweh appears in its proper place without changes, whereas "pious" translations usually replace it with that same "master" or "lord." But if the text was written in Greek from the beginning, it is rather difficult to understand whether the sacred name or simply a title is meant.

In this case, however, what stands before us is quite plausibly precisely a title, because the Messiah was always regarded first of all as King. Of course, popular messianism supposed that the Kingdom would be entirely earthly, and that the Messiah too would become an entirely earthly King. But popular notions did not cancel the fact that the Messiah truly is King, though not of the kind of Kingdom most people expected in those days.

Jesus never renounced His Kingdom, while He never made any claims to earthly kingdoms. And the title Savior was also traditionally messianic in the Gospel era. True, here too popular messianism supposed something quite earthly: the King-Messiah would create a strong Jewish state, founded on laws corresponding to the Torah, in which not only every Jew, but in general everyone who worshiped the God of Israel and sought a devout life, would find refuge.

If people spoke of salvation as complete liberation from the power of sin and death, they did so only secondarily and in a more distant, eschatological perspective. But Jesus truly became Savior for everyone seeking the Kingdom, for there a person finds not only the fullness of life, but also deliverance from the power of evil and sin in which the fallen world lies. Deliverance forever: for the Kingdom, entering the world, sooner or later will transform it completely, making it part of itself and freeing it from the consequences of the fall. Finally, for all eternity.

The news of the Messiah's birth is joyful, for everyone and for each person; not only for those who would later be called Christians, but also for all who take spiritual life seriously. Of course, the Jews, the people of God, awaited Him more than anyone else; they alone then could understand what had happened and what the good news meant. The others could only guess.

But the issue is not only who understands what, although awareness plays a key role in spiritual life. The issue is also what exactly happened: in the Kingdom that, in the Savior's words, has "drawn near." And this can be felt not only by Christians: a person may know nothing about the Messiah, about the people of God, or in general about the history of the Covenant and salvation, but every seeker can sense the breath of the Kingdom.

In this sense, the transformation undergone in the Christian era by some Eastern teachings, such as Hinduism or Buddhism, is quite remarkable. Could anyone have imagined in pre-Christian times that a Hindu, even a consistent monotheist who had chosen the path of yoga, would call God Heavenly Father? Yet in modern Hinduism this is found, and this is by no means due to the influence of Christian missionaries: it is the breath of that very Kingdom, which does not fit within any religious framework, the Kingdom open to everyone who strives for genuine spiritual life, whatever tradition he belongs to.

Of course, there is no Kingdom without a King. But the seeker does not always know about the King right away; at times he learns about the Kingdom before learning about the One who rules in it. But the King is glad for everyone who comes. And one can come to know the King even after learning about the Kingdom, touching it, and understanding that this is exactly where one had been going, and that one has arrived where one had long wanted to be. There is still time before the full triumph of the Kingdom, before Christ's return in glory, and that means seekers still have time to meet the King, to come to know Him, to realize with whom they have met, and to entrust themselves to Him.

Of course, the direct representation of the Kingdom on earth should first of all be the Church. But she is not always equal to this task, and Christ Himself never said that He would limit His activity in the world to the boundaries of the earthly Church. He promised not to leave her, but He did not promise us, as Christians, exclusive rights to the Kingdom. After all, it is His Kingdom and His Church, and only He can decide how far it will spread and who will be able to partake of it.

The life of Jesus is fulfilled in us when we know not only the events of His life, but also when we experience these events as facts of our biography. That is why the words of the Angel concerning the birth of the Rescuer are not only address to the shepherds, but to us also today, presently. Ok let's go now, will our faith be strong? Do we accept that it is indeed today that comes into the world the helpless Baby, Whom the Father confided in the hands of men? If the answer is yes, then love and gratefulness move in us, and this day will be filled with "great joy ".

The shepherds' reaction to what they saw is the reaction of normal people who trust God. They were told that the Messiah had been born, they were told where to look for Him, and they go where they were told. The normal reaction of "simple" people. Simple not necessarily in the sense of roughness or lack of education, but in the sense of that inner wholeness which stands opposed not to roughness or ignorance, but to inner brokenness or dividedness. To what most often keeps a person from seeing and hearing God. Although the fact remains: broken, divided people inclined to endless and fruitless reflection are more readily found among the educated than among the uneducated.

If the angels had announced the Messiah's birth to leaders of the Pharisaic movement well educated in the Torah, or to teachers of the Torah, Joseph and Mary would most likely not have had guests very soon. Indeed, before going, these people would have needed to analyze everything carefully, weigh it, decide whether the vision was "correct" or "incorrect," whether it corresponded to the criteria of truth and the ideas about the Messiah accepted by learned theologians, or not... In short, learned people would not have gathered quickly to look at the Messiah. And the issue here, of course, is not education as such.

The issue is what almost always accompanies this very education in a fallen person. And the issue is not only arrogance and the peculiar snobbery characteristic of some learned people, but an inclination toward modeling and schematizing even where no schemes are suitable by definition and no models work. And not even because God and the Messiah cannot be fit into any schemes and cannot be modeled in any way, but because a person inclined to such intellectualism often begins, without noticing it himself, to model himself as well. His own life. A life out of which he tries to make a scheme instead of simply living.

And then, if a person models his own life instead of simply living it, it becomes practically impossible to get through to him. For God and for another person. In such a case the person disappears, identifying himself with his own scheme, with the model of his own existence. And one cannot communicate with a model or a scheme; here one can either fit in or leave. But God has no intention of fitting into human schemes, and neither does the Messiah. That is why God reveals important things to those who live simply, without schemes and models. That way is truer and more reliable.

How many creative people - writers, poets, artists - this short story has inspired. Why? Outwardly it is a completely ordinary event, the birth of a Child, but in His honor an unusual star lights up in the sky, and that star leads three magi to Bethlehem. And now there are three elders bowing before the Child, three pagans before the King of the Jews, three learned sages before the One on whom the Lord's Spirit of wisdom and understanding secretly rests (Isa. 11:2).

All human wisdom, all human knowledge, can do only this: lead us to God for true knowledge and suggest what gifts we may bring with us.

Christ promised us the Second Coming. We await Him. But we await Him in a special way. And that is not at all how we await Christmas. We know that there will be a Christmas service, that many people will come, and everyone will congratulate one another. But if we stopped to think, we would understand that the feast of Christmas is not only a remembrance of His incarnation that has already taken place. It is Christ's coming into the world. A coming that has not yet happened, that we are only waiting for. This means it is both an echo of the first coming and a herald of the second; this is the amazing, connecting quality of this feast.

When reading the Gospel story of the visit of the Magi, a natural question arises: why was Herod so afraid of the Messiah, about whom he did not even know for certain whether He had been born yet or not? The answer is clear to anyone familiar with the political situation in Palestine in Gospel times: in the Messiah, who, according to the generally accepted ideas among Jews of that time, was to become king of Judea, Herod could see only a political rival threatening his power. To us, familiar with the Gospel story, these fears cannot help seeming ridiculous. Yet they led to tragedy, to that massacre in Bethlehem which the infant Jesus escaped, but during which many other children died.

There is no need to speak of the cruelty of power; it is obvious. But something else is just as obvious: the absurdity, the tragic meaninglessness of what is happening. Herod knows nothing about the Messiah; he has never seen Him and never wanted to see Him. In his attitude toward Jesus he is guided, in essence, by those popular legends and myths because of which Jesus concealed His messiahship almost to the very end of His earthly ministry. And this fear, based on an illusion, makes Herod a murderer.

Of course, no power in the fallen world does without bloodshed. But apparently, when power is guided by myths and common notions that have nothing to do with reality, especially much blood is shed. In that situation Herod, in essence, needed to do very little: simply go and look. And understand that this Child lying in a manger would never claim his power, nor the power of any other earthly ruler, which He does not need.

But Herod goes nowhere. He remains captive to his own illusions and his own fear. And he becomes a murderer.

The coming of the Magi troubled not only Herod but also, as noted, all Jerusalem. Herod's anxiety is understandable, for he, like any cruel ruler, imagines everywhere if not conspiracies, then rivals. But other people, to whom Herod's tendencies do not seem to belong, are also worried that the birth of the Child may bring some important changes into their lives as well. And any changes, even the most long-awaited, are inevitably connected with discomfort.

Thus from the very first days of the Messiah's earthly life a dramatic discord begins in the souls of many of those who, after a long expectation of His coming, proved not ready to meet Him. But in these same days there also begins the coming to Christ of many of those who had long wandered along paths far from true knowledge of God, but who even in the forest of paganism managed to find a trail leading out of it. And if the Magi came to Bethlehem following the star, they returned already having received revelation and therefore no longer needing their former divinations. The Magi went back by another way not only because of the danger from Herod, but also because the former paths had been exhausted after Christ came into the world.

The Gospel of Matthew has preserved for us the tradition of Mary's being visited soon after Jesus' birth by those whom the Russian Synodal text calls, in a Slavic manner, volkhvy. The translators rendered the Greek word "magi," which we find in the original text of the Gospel, in this way.

Who were these "magi" from the East? To the east of the Roman Empire lay Persia, whose relations with Rome were far from friendly. The state religion of Persia in Gospel times was Zoroastrianism. The priests of this religion were called "magi" in Greek. However, these people did not practice magic in the modern sense of the word.

They were servants of the great good god named Ahura Mazda. And they waged war against his dark counterpart, who was called Angra Mainyu, or, in Greek pronunciation, Ahriman. They also awaited the one whom they called in their own language the Saoshyant, or Liberator. The one who was to come and lead on earth the great war of the forces of light against the forces of darkness. And perhaps some of these people knew that they were not the only ones awaiting the Saoshyant. That in the West, in a land called Judea by its inhabitants, there was a people awaiting the same one they awaited. Only they called him differently: the Anointed One, the Messiah. And there were people who dared to go into a hostile country to find the one for whom they had waited so long.

God led these people where they so wanted to go. And He gave them to see the One whom they so wanted to see. They left a royal gift for the divine Child and His Mother. Gold as an offering to a king. Frankincense for anointing to reign. And myrrh, the sacred herb of the Zoroastrians. Then they left as they had come. To wait for the day when the Saoshyant whom they had found would begin His war. Just as many Jews waited for this. Neither they nor the others knew that the war would be quite different from what they imagined. But the Kingdom too turned out not to be what most expected. And yet whoever wanted to receive it, received it. In the end, the point is what one strives for, not how one imagines it.

The Angel addressed the warning about danger not to Mary, but to Joseph, to the man and head of the family responsible for making the decision. One often hears the question: why were the other parents in Bethlehem not warned about the coming massacre of the infants? We cannot now find a reliable explanation for this. Perhaps, unlike Joseph, the other fathers of families were unable to hear the warning or dismissed it?

Many centuries earlier Joseph, the son of Jacob, after coming to Egypt, was able to save his family, and with it the whole people, from death by famine. And now a new Joseph goes to Egypt in order to save from terror the One who will become the Savior of humanity. As Moses had to leave Egypt, Joseph had to flee hastily into Egypt, saving himself from a likeness of Pharaoh who had come to reign in the Promised Land.

From the very moment of His birth in a world poisoned by cruelty, and then from the flight into Egypt, Jesus had to share the trials of the earthly path of both the people of Israel and all humanity. And from these first days on earth His way of the cross toward Golgotha begins.

What can one think about the slaughter Herod carried out in Bethlehem? A crime? Without question. Terrible, unheard-of? In general, no, as awful as that sounds. Even in antiquity it was not something extraordinary, and even less so against the background of events in recent centuries.

The most terrible thing here is not cruelty as such, but the logic that gives rise to this cruelty. This is not about justifying it: rulers like Herod did not consider it necessary to justify cruelty when it seemed expedient to them. And Herod, the murderer of children, by the way, entered history with the epithets "the Great" and "the Builder." He was remembered as a clever and skillful ruler who maneuvered artfully through the intricacies of the great Near Eastern politics of his time, and as, in modern language, an "effective manager" who carried out a whole series of large-scale projects. In particular, it was he who carried out the reconstruction, and in essence the complete rebuilding, of the Jerusalem Temple, turning it into a grand and majestic structure.

But people, as we see, interested Herod only in the context of these same large-scale projects. Anyone who posed even the slightest threat to them had to disappear, not to mention those who, even hypothetically, might in some way threaten his own power. Such, apparently, is the reverse side of "effective management": people here become nothing more than expendable material. And the cheapest material of all.

For the Kingdom, every person matters. For the rulers of this world, no one does.

It is very clear that the Gospel of Matthew was written for Jews. For both him and his readers, it is important to see that Jesus' childhood corresponds to Old Testament prophecies; this testifies that Jesus is truly the Messiah.

At the same time, we see here an example of how, in the very earliest years of the Church's existence, the apostles taught people to perceive Holy Scripture. The words of Christ are alive in them: "Search the Scriptures, for you think that in them you have eternal life; and they testify of Me" (John 5:39), and they discover this testimony even where no one had seen it before.

The coming of Christ into the world is accompanied by a terrible tragedy: the killing of innocent infants. We shudder as we read these lines. But let us compare this episode with the way Christ describes His second coming: "for nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; and there will be famines, pestilences, and earthquakes in various places" (Matt 24:7). That is, He foretells tragedies for us, tragedies again. Why, we want to ask, why? Why must our good God come in such a frightening way? But this is only part of the promise. Let us look at chapter 31 of Jeremiah, from which the words in today's fragment are taken: "a voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping." What is it about? A new age. About this: "then the virgin shall rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old together; for I will turn their mourning to joy, will comfort them, and make them rejoice rather than sorrow." We must pass through trial; otherwise there is no way to remove evil from our life, so deeply has it dissolved into it. Trial is inevitable and is caused solely by our sin. "Rejoice in hope" (Rom 12:12), says the apostle. Let us take this call, and hope itself, seriously. For now God is with us.

All of us would be glad to be beside Christ in His triumph and glory. But the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph share with Him first of all His humiliation and suffering. So it was in the first days of His earthly life, when He had to become a refugee and flee from human cruelty. Later the Mother of God remained with Him on Golgotha too. And it is precisely this that we need to learn from Her, because being beside Her Son in His passions is salvation.

From the very moment of His birth in a world poisoned by cruelty, and then from the flight into Egypt, Jesus had to share the trials of the earthly path of both the people of Israel and all humanity. And from these same first days on earth His way of the cross to Golgotha begins.

In the story of the birth of Jesus Christ in the manger, with the cave, the shepherds, and the angels, there is nothing sentimental or sweetly touching. But there is much that is majestic and solemn. We should not be embarrassed by the modest setting of a village stable and the poverty of the guests: this is a true messianic feast.

Everything here points to Jesus’ distant ancestor and the most famous anointed king, that is, in Greek, Christ, David: his native city Bethlehem, the occupation of the shepherds, for David himself was a shepherd for his father, and the striking parallels with the One who will also be Shepherd for His Father. He too is born to be King, Anointed One, Christ; He too, as the “least of the brothers,” will by a miracle, by God’s power, defeat the Enemy and “remove disgrace from Israel” (compare 1 Sam. 17 or Ps. 151). The evangelist, knowing the whole subsequent story, was able to discern glory in the ordinary and poor life of a family overtaken by childbirth at night in a stable. We too know this story, but do we know how to truly see?

La Vielle de Noël

Nothing has begun yet. Already everything is past.
From edge to edge a soft haze has veiled the light.
Moisture streams from the fog - now rain, now snow.
No valleys, no mountains, no lakes, no rivers can be made out.
Silently creeping up, from edge to edge
one single haze covers every distance,
Without shape, without colors, and without bounds, a whitish veil.
Two steps away nothing can be seen, and in the thawing snow the footprint sinks
Of this unknown couple, for whom
there is no room in the inn.
On the face of the deep, darkness again, as it was
before the beginning of time.
Everything droops into the languor of nonbeing, into fog and sleep.
Like a fir beneath the snow, like a beast in its den, the will drowses, and reason is silent.
Maybe the heart of love keeps watch, yet love itself
sleeps and sleeps.
Quiet and muffled, hour after hour, the eye is fogged,
and the mind is blind -
Until sensitive midnight makes out an infant's cry.

(S. S. Averintsev, Geneva, 24.12.1994)
La Vielle de Noël - Christmas Eve (French)

For whom is the Savior born? Are you sure He is born for you? The whole world renounced Christ in advance, giving Him, the newborn Child, only a feeding trough for livestock. The first subjects of the new King turn out to be simple shepherds.

But Christ is born not only for those who are ready to receive Him. The Angel proclaims unambiguously: joy will be for all people. By human reasoning, the world is always divided into good and bad, into those worthy and unworthy of salvation. But the moment heaven opens even briefly, the choir of the heavenly host is heard: Christ is for all.

Each evangelist describes the Nativity of Christ in his own way, drawing attention to the events that seem most important to him. Among the events of the Nativity, Luke gives special attention to the signs God gave that pointed to Jesus as the Messiah. The first of these signs was the revelation received by shepherds who were nearby Bethlehem (v. 8). The meaning of the revelation was quite clear. The angel who appeared before the shepherds tells them directly that the Messiah awaited by the people has been born, and the rejoicing joy of heaven confirms the significance of what is happening (vv. 9-14).

It would seem that shepherds were not the most suitable people to be the first to hear the news about the Messiah who had been born. They had neither power and authority nor knowledge. If they had wanted to tell others what they had seen, they would have been believed last, if they were believed at all. At first glance it may seem that such people have little to do with the events of spiritual life, since they are not at all like the religious activists, such as the Pharisees, who were completely sure that they, of course, would meet the Messiah before anyone else.

But Christ, as can be seen, comes to everyone, not only to those who lead an intense religious life. He comes to those who are waiting for him and are ready to receive him. And this by no means always depends on a person's religious activity. Paradoxically, such activity can sometimes even get in the way. The shepherds are simple people, and their reaction to the revelation they receive is simple too: let us go and see (v. 15)! And when they came to Bethlehem and saw the infant Christ there, they simply told, as best they could, what they had seen (vv. 16-18). Then they went back, glorifying God for the birth of the promised Messiah (v. 20).

It is enough to compare this simple account, this witness, with the theological disputes that almost every word and deed of Jesus will provoke among the same Pharisees and teachers of the Torah, to understand why the revelation about the birth of the Messiah is given precisely to shepherds. Had learned rabbis been in their place, the Virgin Mary would most likely have had to wait a long time for the witness to Christ's birth that was so important to her (v. 19), for before recognizing anyone as the Messiah, the matter had to be thoroughly investigated. But God more often needs witnesses than theologians. He does not need us to analyze and evaluate his works. It is quite enough for him that others hear about them from us.

It is impossible for a human being to realize and understand what happened. Not only because the very fact of the Nativity, the way all this happens, is from a human point of view complete absurdity. It is also because through it a person receives the possibility of understanding how God loves. His love for each person is at the same time a father's love for a child and a small child's love for its parents. Strictness, responsibility, care, and self-sacrifice are fused with tenderness, complete trust, and the need to be always near. This is what His Love looks like. He wants us to hold Him in our arms, not let Him go, and in this way He will give us everything, protect us, and give us peace. He gives Himself to us, and as a child smiles at any mother, so He loves us as we are. And by entrusting His life to our keeping, He is simply trusting us as no one ever has and no one ever will.

Translated from Greek, the word "gospel" means "good news." And the meaning of this good news lay precisely in the fact that the Messiah whom the people of God had awaited for centuries had finally come into the world. This is what the angels announce to the shepherds. They call the newborn Messiah Lord and Savior.

The corresponding Greek word, however, is often interpreted as "Lord," meaning Yahweh, whose name in Greek texts was usually replaced by a word translated as "master" or "lord"; in Greek there is no difference between "master" and "lord." That is why it is sometimes not simple to determine what is being spoken of in a concrete Greek text. With Hebrew texts it is simpler: there the name Yahweh appears in its proper place without changes, whereas "pious" translations usually replace it with that same "master" or "lord." But if the text was written in Greek from the beginning, it is rather difficult to understand whether the sacred name or simply a title is meant.

In this case, however, what stands before us is quite plausibly precisely a title, because the Messiah was always regarded first of all as King. Of course, popular messianism supposed that the Kingdom would be entirely earthly, and that the Messiah too would become an entirely earthly King. But popular notions did not cancel the fact that the Messiah truly is King, though not of the kind of Kingdom most people expected in those days.

Jesus never renounced His Kingdom, while He never made any claims to earthly kingdoms. And the title Savior was also traditionally messianic in the Gospel era. True, here too popular messianism supposed something quite earthly: the King-Messiah would create a strong Jewish state, founded on laws corresponding to the Torah, in which not only every Jew, but in general everyone who worshiped the God of Israel and sought a devout life, would find refuge.

If people spoke of salvation as complete liberation from the power of sin and death, they did so only secondarily and in a more distant, eschatological perspective. But Jesus truly became Savior for everyone seeking the Kingdom, for there a person finds not only the fullness of life, but also deliverance from the power of evil and sin in which the fallen world lies. Deliverance forever: for the Kingdom, entering the world, sooner or later will transform it completely, making it part of itself and freeing it from the consequences of the fall. Finally, for all eternity.

The news of the Messiah's birth is joyful, for everyone and for each person; not only for those who would later be called Christians, but also for all who take spiritual life seriously. Of course, the Jews, the people of God, awaited Him more than anyone else; they alone then could understand what had happened and what the good news meant. The others could only guess.

But the issue is not only who understands what, although awareness plays a key role in spiritual life. The issue is also what exactly happened: in the Kingdom that, in the Savior's words, has "drawn near." And this can be felt not only by Christians: a person may know nothing about the Messiah, about the people of God, or in general about the history of the Covenant and salvation, but every seeker can sense the breath of the Kingdom.

In this sense, the transformation undergone in the Christian era by some Eastern teachings, such as Hinduism or Buddhism, is quite remarkable. Could anyone have imagined in pre-Christian times that a Hindu, even a consistent monotheist who had chosen the path of yoga, would call God Heavenly Father? Yet in modern Hinduism this is found, and this is by no means due to the influence of Christian missionaries: it is the breath of that very Kingdom, which does not fit within any religious framework, the Kingdom open to everyone who strives for genuine spiritual life, whatever tradition he belongs to.

Of course, there is no Kingdom without a King. But the seeker does not always know about the King right away; at times he learns about the Kingdom before learning about the One who rules in it. But the King is glad for everyone who comes. And one can come to know the King even after learning about the Kingdom, touching it, and understanding that this is exactly where one had been going, and that one has arrived where one had long wanted to be. There is still time before the full triumph of the Kingdom, before Christ's return in glory, and that means seekers still have time to meet the King, to come to know Him, to realize with whom they have met, and to entrust themselves to Him.

Of course, the direct representation of the Kingdom on earth should first of all be the Church. But she is not always equal to this task, and Christ Himself never said that He would limit His activity in the world to the boundaries of the earthly Church. He promised not to leave her, but He did not promise us, as Christians, exclusive rights to the Kingdom. After all, it is His Kingdom and His Church, and only He can decide how far it will spread and who will be able to partake of it.

The life of Jesus is fulfilled in us when we know not only the events of His life, but also when we experience these events as facts of our biography. That is why the words of the Angel concerning the birth of the Rescuer are not only address to the shepherds, but to us also today, presently. Ok let's go now, will our faith be strong? Do we accept that it is indeed today that comes into the world the helpless Baby, Whom the Father confided in the hands of men? If the answer is yes, then love and gratefulness move in us, and this day will be filled with "great joy ".

The shepherds' reaction to what they saw is the reaction of normal people who trust God. They were told that the Messiah had been born, they were told where to look for Him, and they go where they were told. The normal reaction of "simple" people. Simple not necessarily in the sense of roughness or lack of education, but in the sense of that inner wholeness which stands opposed not to roughness or ignorance, but to inner brokenness or dividedness. To what most often keeps a person from seeing and hearing God. Although the fact remains: broken, divided people inclined to endless and fruitless reflection are more readily found among the educated than among the uneducated.

If the angels had announced the Messiah's birth to leaders of the Pharisaic movement well educated in the Torah, or to teachers of the Torah, Joseph and Mary would most likely not have had guests very soon. Indeed, before going, these people would have needed to analyze everything carefully, weigh it, decide whether the vision was "correct" or "incorrect," whether it corresponded to the criteria of truth and the ideas about the Messiah accepted by learned theologians, or not... In short, learned people would not have gathered quickly to look at the Messiah. And the issue here, of course, is not education as such.

The issue is what almost always accompanies this very education in a fallen person. And the issue is not only arrogance and the peculiar snobbery characteristic of some learned people, but an inclination toward modeling and schematizing even where no schemes are suitable by definition and no models work. And not even because God and the Messiah cannot be fit into any schemes and cannot be modeled in any way, but because a person inclined to such intellectualism often begins, without noticing it himself, to model himself as well. His own life. A life out of which he tries to make a scheme instead of simply living.

And then, if a person models his own life instead of simply living it, it becomes practically impossible to get through to him. For God and for another person. In such a case the person disappears, identifying himself with his own scheme, with the model of his own existence. And one cannot communicate with a model or a scheme; here one can either fit in or leave. But God has no intention of fitting into human schemes, and neither does the Messiah. That is why God reveals important things to those who live simply, without schemes and models. That way is truer and more reliable.

Does origin matter for spiritual life or not? At first glance, the answer is obvious: of course not. Indeed, when we are talking about a person's relationship with God or with a neighbor, how important is it who his parents are and what nationality he is? Everything here is determined only by these relationships themselves. And the Kingdom is open to everyone who is ready to receive it, regardless of race, nationality, or religion.

And yet the evangelist gives a detailed genealogy of Jesus, beginning with Abraham. Of course, what matters here first of all is precisely that it begins with Abraham: the history of the people of God begins with Abraham. But on the other hand, through Abraham, according to the word of God, "all the clans living on the earth will be blessed." The Messiah was born a Jew, becoming the One through whom the promise God gave to Abraham was fulfilled.

And here the question of origin becomes precisely a spiritual question, not because God has favorites, but because someone must take responsibility for being God's helper in carrying out His purposes, and someone had to be born as the Messiah so that the Kingdom of God would become a reality. One people, one Messiah - for the salvation of all and of each person. And here origin turns out to matter: it obligates. It obligates one to take part in carrying out God's purpose. And to stay on the path that leads to the Kingdom.

Compared with Mark's Gospel, which we have already read, this Gospel brings completely new information: Jesus did not come from heaven already grown and immediately begin preaching; He was born into this world just as every human being is born. The Son of God truly became human, taking human flesh upon Himself in exactly the same way we receive it. That is precisely why everything He will later do will concern all of us, because everything will be done in human nature. And His name, Jesus, means God's salvation for all humanity. To illustrate and explain this absolute humanity of Christ, the apostle Matthew gives His genealogy, built from several sevens, the number of fullness, and placing Him in the context of all sacred history, the whole chain of Covenants between God and humanity. And the quotation from Isaiah completes it, and with it, all the Old Testament prophecies.

Today at the liturgy we read the whole first chapter of the Gospel according to Matthew, which includes Christ's genealogy and the account of His Nativity in Bethlehem. The whole structure of this chapter is determined by a distinctive movement of the plot from Abraham, the forefather of the people of God, to the moment when Joseph gives the newborn Child His name: Jesus. On the feast day itself we will once again read the account of the Nativity from this chapter, and then the account of the adoration of the Magi. But today it is important for us to see this whole human history contained in the long list of names from Abraham to Jesus.

The evangelist Matthew, with his characteristic desire to systematize the information he presents, offers us a fairly conventional scheme of the movement of history, dividing it into three periods of fourteen generations each. It is clear that the numbers he gives are symbolic in character. In its details Matthew's genealogy differs from Luke's genealogy; this is connected with the features of the Jewish system of kinship and fatherhood. But these details are not what matters to the evangelist. Strictly speaking, he gives the genealogy of Joseph, the husband of Mary, who receives the Child born of her as his own and, to the end of his life, protects Him and serves Him. To a certain degree, this is the calling of each of us.

In speaking of the Nativity, the evangelist Matthew leaves the Annunciation outside the scope of his story and directs our attention first of all to Joseph's faith. Having believed the Angel, he rises above human weakness and limitation and becomes a participant in God's saving action. And in the person of Joseph, as later in the person of Christ's disciples, all humanity receives the Child Christ. For the Nativity is the finale of the whole history of falling away from God and seeking paths of return, the history of resisting God and the history of salvation. All human loneliness, helplessness, and mortality come to an end for us in the cave of Bethlehem, where the One is born who will remain with us always, to the end of the age.

The appearance in Jerusalem, described in today's reading, of the "Magi" who came "from the east" (v. 1) raises a number of questions. Who were these "Magi"? Why were they interested at all in the birth of the Messiah-Christ, a question that in those days would seem to have been of interest only to Jews? And what mysterious "star" (v. 2) led them? The traditional answer to the last question has been to point to the fact that the "Magi," who knew the astronomy of their time well, could notice some unusual phenomenon in the starry sky and interpret it as a sign that the Messiah had indeed been born. But such an answer presupposes that these "Magi" not only knew astronomy well, but were awaiting the coming of the Messiah no less than the Jews themselves.

Palestine at that time was part of the Roman Empire, which in the east bordered Persia, a land the Romans never managed to conquer despite many attempts. The state religion of Persia at that time was Zoroastrianism, and in the Roman Empire the priests of this religion were called in Greek "magi" (in the Synodal translation these "magi" became "wise men"). Zoroastrianism was remarkable in that its followers, like the Jews, awaited the Messiah, who would come to earth at the end of time in order to lead here the last battle of the sons of Light against the sons of darkness. It appears that among the Zoroastrian priests there were some who decided to step beyond the limits prescribed by the tradition of their own religion. They were the ones who set out for Judea in order to find there the Messiah for whom they had been waiting so long.

Of course, traditional Zoroastrian messianic ideas differed significantly from biblical ones. But for those who set out for Palestine, the desire to find the truth was clearly stronger than the influence of accepted opinions and the pressure of their environment. And the pressure could be very strong: the Roman Empire and Persia were traditionally hostile to one another, and for the magi to set out for Judea meant going straight into the enemy camp. Moreover, of course, they had no guarantees that they would actually find the One they were seeking. But, as we can see, finding the Messiah of whom not only biblical books but also Zoroastrian books spoke was absolutely necessary for these people. And therefore they found the One they were seeking (vv. 9-11).

Not everyone is destined by God to be born among the people of God. But the search for truth is open to everyone. And if this search is sincere and persistent, sooner or later it will surely lead the seeker to Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

For the Evangelist, the newborn Child is the promised Messiah, who is to embody in Himself the whole Sacred History of the people of Israel and bring it to fulfillment. That is why today’s account contains recognizable details from the story of Moses, the Exodus from Egypt, and the journey through the wilderness. An evil king seeks to destroy Israel’s hope and kills innocent children (Ex 1); God brings Israel out of Egypt (this parallel is confirmed by the quotation from the prophet); sages from the East, guided by a star, bless Israel (Num 24:17). God saves His people not from outside history but from its very heart: Christ is born on earth in order to pass through all the trials and hardships of His people and, indeed, of all humanity. The wondrous mystery of sharing in God is fulfilled in the One who walked upon our earth, breathed our air, saw our sky, lived in our world, and filled our history and our life...

For the Evangelist, the newborn Child is the promised Messiah, who is to embody in Himself the whole Sacred History of the people of Israel and bring it to fulfillment. That is why today’s account contains recognizable details from the story of Moses, the Exodus from Egypt, and the journey through the wilderness. An evil king seeks to destroy Israel’s hope and kills innocent children (Ex 1); God brings Israel out of Egypt (this parallel is confirmed by the quotation from the prophet); sages from the East, guided by a star, bless Israel (Num 24:17). God saves His people not from outside history but from its very heart: Christ is born on earth in order to pass through all the trials and hardships of His people and, indeed, of all humanity. The wondrous mystery of sharing in God is fulfilled in the One who walked upon our earth, breathed our air, saw our sky, lived in our world, and filled our history and our life...

The appearance in Jerusalem, described in today's reading, of the "Magi" who came "from the east" (v. 1) raises a number of questions. Who were these "Magi"? Why were they interested at all in the birth of the Messiah-Christ, a question that in those days would seem to have been of interest only to Jews? And what mysterious "star" (v. 2) led them? The traditional answer to the last question has been to point to the fact that the "Magi," who knew the astronomy of their time well, could notice some unusual phenomenon in the starry sky and interpret it as a sign that the Messiah had indeed been born. But such an answer presupposes that these "Magi" not only knew astronomy well, but were awaiting the coming of the Messiah no less than the Jews themselves.

Palestine at that time was part of the Roman Empire, which in the east bordered Persia, a land the Romans never managed to conquer despite many attempts. The state religion of Persia at that time was Zoroastrianism, and in the Roman Empire the priests of this religion were called in Greek "magi" (in the Synodal translation these "magi" became "wise men"). Zoroastrianism was remarkable in that its followers, like the Jews, awaited the Messiah, who would come to earth at the end of time in order to lead here the last battle of the sons of Light against the sons of darkness. It appears that among the Zoroastrian priests there were some who decided to step beyond the limits prescribed by the tradition of their own religion. They were the ones who set out for Judea in order to find there the Messiah for whom they had been waiting so long.

Of course, traditional Zoroastrian messianic ideas differed significantly from biblical ones. But for those who set out for Palestine, the desire to find the truth was clearly stronger than the influence of accepted opinions and the pressure of their environment. And the pressure could be very strong: the Roman Empire and Persia were traditionally hostile to one another, and for the magi to set out for Judea meant going straight into the enemy camp. Moreover, of course, they had no guarantees that they would actually find the One they were seeking. But, as we can see, finding the Messiah of whom not only biblical books but also Zoroastrian books spoke was absolutely necessary for these people. And therefore they found the One they were seeking (vv. 9-11).

Not everyone is destined by God to be born among the people of God. But the search for truth is open to everyone. And if this search is sincere and persistent, sooner or later it will surely lead the seeker to Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.