NOTES for Mat 9:9-17

What exactly so outraged the Pharisees when they saw Jesus beside a tax collector? Association with a sinner? But the Torah too knows conversion and repentance. More than that, it even knows special purification rituals performed by repentant sinners to be cleansed from the impurity caused by that sin. In essence, nothing more was required of the sinner: he had only to repent of it, then perform a purifying washing and bring a purification sacrifice, otherwise called a sin offering or guilt offering. At the same time, however, one indispensable condition had to be observed: it could concern only a sin committed involuntarily, through ignorance or weakness. If the sin had been committed consciously and voluntarily, no purification at all could be in question, even if the sinner repented of his sin deeply and sincerely. God, as was believed, could of course forgive a person even such a sin, but it was impossible to be freed from the consequences of a deliberate sin; they weighed on the person his whole life.

The tax collector's sin was exactly such a sin: everyone who took up this work entered into conscious cooperation with the Roman authorities, and not forced cooperation but voluntary cooperation. In the synagogue environment this was considered betrayal, a terrible and unforgivable sin, so that the one who committed it was forever cut off from his people, losing everything he could count on as a representative of his people, including the covenant and all the promises connected with it. Jesus, meanwhile, considers that even such a sinner, if he repents and turns, can be saved.

So what, then: was the pre-Christian approach too rigorist and completely without mercy? Hardly. Rather, one can think that with the coming of Christ the spiritual situation in the world in general, and among the people of God in particular, changed radically. Previously the inner intention with which an action was performed completely determined its consequences, and a conscious sin committed once, or rather its consequences, truly weighed on a person for his whole life, so that even God could not change it: for then, in essence, the world would have had to be created anew. But in the Kingdom one can begin with a clean slate, even one who has sinned consciously and voluntarily: repentance for what has been done is enough. And not because the world has become different, but because the laws of the Kingdom entering the world differ from the laws of this untransformed world. And the chance for salvation is now given to everyone who wants to be saved.

It is hard and repulsive each time to stumble in yourself over the same nasty things. It feels as though you are walking in a closed circle. Again you repent of what you thought had already been passed through and understood. And you say to yourself, "Maybe I should terminate the agreement? Nothing comes of our cooperation."

But what do you hear in response? "I came to call not the righteous, but sinners." The Lord called a sinner, pulled him out of the mud, and brought him near to Himself. He said that He needed the sinner. And it turns out there was no agreement; there was a call and consent. My voluntary consent to answer His call to leave everything except Him. And then, once again recognizing my nature as a sinner, a tax collector gathering where he did not sow, recognizing the sickness whose destructive work you keep encountering even after it has been treated, the work that has deadened parts of you, I come to the physician.

I am still pained by myself, but I know who heals all this, who quiets the pain, who gives strength to rise. And, returning, you repeat the words of Psalm 106: "...He sent His word and healed them, and delivered them from their graves. Let them praise the Lord for His mercy and for His wonderful works for the children of men."

The Evangelist does not give us even a hint that Matthew could have doubted whether the Lord was calling him. For the Pharisees, sharing a meal with sinners was madness, just like inviting a tax collector to become a disciple. It was precisely this departure from the standard notion of right and wrong that aroused indignation in their souls. There are moments in our life when we truly understand what God is calling us to do, when we discern His voice addressed specifically to us. Yet we often begin to doubt, especially when He asks something of us that we ourselves did not expect.

Christ called Matthew at the moment when he was carrying out his official duties, so hated by the whole people. Christ does not demand that Matthew repent beforehand, does not preach sermons to him, but immediately calls him to follow Him.

Meanwhile, not only for the fastidious Pharisees, but surely for a huge part of the people as well, Christ's association with tax collectors, the collaborators of their time, appeared monstrous. Few preachers of that era, even the wisest and most merciful, would have addressed such people without risking their own reputation. But the Lord sees hearts, and Christ saw Matthew's readiness to leave everything and follow Him, a readiness to do something many people with spotless reputations proved unable to do.

Here before us is a witness to the possibility of forgiveness even for people whom public opinion has grown used to considering hopeless, and this means that forgiveness is possible for any of us. And here, too, we see a warning to those who consider themselves, if not impeccable, then "not the worst," that is, again, each of us: do not exalt yourselves over anyone, for you know nothing about those whom you have grown used to despising.

These words are the testimony of God’s greatest mercy. It’s we people who discourse our relations with God in terms of worthy and unworthiness. But God knows very well who we are; and He has come exactly to such people, to us; Not because we are worthy of His mercy and not because we can recompense Him with something, but just because we need Him.

We often ask: “where is God?” being aggrieved on Him because He left us in our sufferings. No, He hasn’t left us, although we don’t deserve it in anything. But there is a radical difference from what He does and what we expect from Him. We expect that God will be correcting the circumstances of our life, for everything to be fine. Whereas, the Lord says that He came to call to penance, i.e. not to correct the circumstances of life, but to correct us ourselves.

Jesus' aphoristic phrases always have several meanings. So it is with these words: first, with them He reproaches the Pharisees because in their condemnation of tax collectors and sinners they are merciless; they do not understand other people's troubles or feel another person's pain. "The well-fed do not understand the hungry." Second, by condemning Jesus for associating with sinners, the Pharisees reveal their blindness, failing to see that Jesus comes not as a sinner to sinners, but as a physician to a patient. And third, Jesus invites everyone around Him to think: if sin is a sickness, then who is the physician able to heal this sickness? And if I exalt myself above others, considering myself healthy, then what physician am I rejecting in my own life?

Is Jesus saying that one must necessarily become "sick" in order to call the physician ("if you do not sin, you will not repent")? Of course not, but it is vitally necessary to recognize one's already real sickness.

Jesus’ aphoristic phrases always have several meanings; so do these words: firstly, He reproaches Pharisees with these words, because they are unmerciful in their condemnation of tax-collectors and sinners, they don’t understand others’ problems, and they don’t feel others’ pain. “A man with a full belly thinks no one is hungry”. Secondly, Pharisees show their blindness blaming Jesus for talking with sinners, not seeing that Jesus comes not as a sinner to sinners, but as a doctor to patients. And thirdly, Jesus invites everyone around to think: If sin is a sickness, then who is that doctor capable to heal this sickness? And if we raise ourselves above others, considering ourselves healthy, then what doctor are we rejecting in our life? Is Jesus saying that we should become necessarily “sick”, in order to call the doctor (no sin – no repentance)? No of course, but it is necessary to realize our own already really existing sickness.

Is sacrifice not an expression of love? After all, every sacrifice means giving up part of one's life: in the form of possessions, money, or time. Giving up one's life - is that not love?

Let us look from another side. A certain husband gives his wife a magnificent bouquet of roses every year on their wedding anniversary, while on all the other days he cheats on her shamelessly. Does the wife not have the right to exclaim, "I want love, not a bouquet!"? Worst of all is if the husband also thinks that everything is fine with him and does not understand why his wife is dissatisfied - after all, he gives bouquets! So it is in the spiritual life: it is impossible to call to repentance someone who does not see his sin and justifies himself.

Is sacrifice not an expression of love? Every sacrifice is indeed the delivery of a part of someone’s life: as property, money, time. Giving his life- is it not love? Let’s look it on the other hand. A certain husband makes every year a gift of a nobby bouquet of roses to his wife for the wedding anniversary and all the other days – he completely walks the streets. Doesn’t the woman have the right to exclaim: “I want love, and not bouquets!”? Worst if after that the husband still esteem that everything’s all right, and doesn’t understand why his wife is dissatisfied. It is difficult to call to penance someone who doesn’t see his sin, who acquits himself.

At first glance it is surprising: right now, during Peter's Fast, the Church reads a passage in which Jesus' disciples do not fast, while the main champions of asceticism are Christ's opponents, the Pharisees. Yet through this paradox the Lord explains to us that the whole life of a Christian, including ascetic rules, is based not on the old law but on personal relationship with Him. Whether the "sons of the bridal chamber" should fast depends precisely on the living presence of the Bridegroom, for only in Him do we find true life and reign.

John's disciples did not seem to realize that by their question they had put themselves on the same level as the Pharisees. Even they found many of their teacher's words and actions hard to understand. And although John's call to repentance surpassed any teaching of the Pharisees, what mattered to his disciples was not so much being changed through repentance as fasting exactly as the Pharisees did, that is, observing the traditional regulations.

Christ's answer gives hope, but at the same time it also causes unease. He justifies the disciples' right not to observe the letter of any regulations by the fact that He Himself is beside them. In essence, He is trying to make clear that rituals have meaning only as a means of communion with God and must not become an end in themselves when He is near. But here Christ also warns that times will inevitably come when He will not be beside the disciples, and then the disciples' outward piety will again become a way of communion with God. The parables Christ speaks here about a patch on an old garment and about pouring new wine into old wineskins are widely known; they have become proverbial sayings. But it is no accident that they were spoken in answer to John's disciples, who had only a vague idea that what Jesus had brought was not simply an interpretation of the ancient commandments by one of the remarkable preachers, but the New Life itself, come from above.

The disciples of John the Baptist do not ask Jesus about fasting by chance: after all, among the Pharisees and among members of other religious brotherhoods, fasting was considered one of the basic religious rules, without the observance of which one could not speak of piety. At the same time, the original meaning of fasting had been thoroughly forgotten: fasting symbolized above all mourning, in particular mourning for dead relatives, as well, however, as mourning connected with events on a national scale.

Of course, in the course of the development of the Yahwistic, and later the Jewish, religious tradition, fasting acquired a new meaning, one connected with spiritual life proper: in religious life, fasting came to be associated with longing for God, with sorrow caused by the feeling of abandonment by God. And, of course, fasting became an expression of the fear and trembling that seize a person awaiting the near judgment of God; such, for example, was the fast of Yom Kippur.

But often in Gospel times fasting became simply a form of religious piety, an element of religious life obligatory for everyone and no longer connected either with concrete events in a person's life or with his spiritual state. This was the case, for example, among the Pharisees, who, judging by what we know of them today, fasted at least two days a week. The especially zealous members of the brotherhood did so even more often, and these fasts were often effectively public: those fasting demonstrated in every possible way their sorrow over their own sins, their fear and trembling before the approaching day of Judgment.

Jesus, however, restores fasting to its true meaning, not a religious meaning but a properly spiritual one. Fasting is not a religious obligation and not a rule of piety; it is the external expression of a particular spiritual state, especially abandonment by God. There is nothing here to imitate and no reason to do so: the time will come when fasting will become something completely natural, but for now there is no need for it, and it is not worth portraying a sorrow that does not exist.

Jesus, of course, does not frame the question this way by chance. After all, He is preparing His disciples and followers for life in the Kingdom. In the Kingdom there is no place for playacting and imitation, even if it is saturated with very important religious meanings. Here there is no longer any need for religion, just as there is no need here for symbols and allegories. Here is life itself, moving according to its own laws.

Addressing the people, Jesus said that He came “not to abolish the Law but to fulfill it.” At the very least, this must mean that He understands this Law correctly. Yet as we read the Gospel, we repeatedly see Him enter into conflict with the Pharisees, people of special piety, and with the scribes, experts in the Law. Christ Himself explains His conduct with a quotation from the prophet: “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.” Thus, in His understanding, the Law consists in love. For love’s sake, He works on the Sabbath, associates with sinners, and even breaks fasts. The time has come when Law and mercy become one. This means that new content requires a new form, so that the “new wine” does not end up in “old wineskins.” The Gospel cannot be contained within the “only correct” worldview; it requires a readiness for openness, forbearance, and forgiveness. Otherwise, it will burst through our lives and leave us with emptiness and thirst.