NOTES for Mar 10:23-32

"Many who are first will be last, and the last first." What do these words mean? Why must it be this way? Have we become so used to words of this kind that nothing in them surprises us anymore? It is clear, we think, that justice requires the very last, the poorest and most unfortunate, to be repaid in another world with honor and power. But, as we have said with you more than once, such logic does not go beyond the logic of the communists: "whoever was nothing will become everything." And it is impossible even to imagine joining this soul-destroying force to the teaching of our Lord. In the late Soviet years there was a joke: in 1917, an old princess looks out the window and asks a man passing by what all the noise is about, what is happening. The man answers that the Red Army soldiers want there to be no rich people. Strange, she replies; my grandfather wanted there to be no poor people. This logic of shaking the world upside down, which the Bolsheviks served, has nothing in common with the teaching of our Lord, who is the God of ineffable kindness. It is only an evil parody of it. So let us try to think about what these words mean after all: many who are first will be last, and the last first. Imagine this scene: a group of runners at the starting line. The signal is given and everyone begins to run. Someone breaks ahead, and someone falls behind. Suddenly a signal is given to run back to the start. Who will arrive first? Obviously, the last. And we see this movement of return as repentance, because metanoia is a turning, a return. Let this be only an image. But why could it not be that this is exactly what the Lord wanted to say? Let us remember Psalm 84: You forgave all the iniquities of Your people; You covered all their sins; You turned back from the wrath of Your anger; turn us back, O God of our salvation. The same situation appears, for example, in the Vulgate, where this conversus - converte sounds twice, while it disappeared in the Synodal translation, where it says "turned away - restore." All this appears to us as an argument, perhaps not a very weighty one but still an argument, in favor of our image for today's words of the Lord, even if we have differed somewhat from the way the apostle Paul uses this image.

As if clarifying His earlier words, Jesus says: it is hard for one who trusts in riches to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. It would seem that there is hope in these words: one can be rich while relying not on what one has, but on God. In practice, however, everything proves much more complicated.

The disciples are horrified: they are sure that they will not see the Kingdom. Peter, more decisive than all the rest, as often happened, asks the Teacher the question that everyone wanted to ask but was afraid to. He says to Jesus: look, we have left everything and followed You. Is that not enough? Is something else needed? What will we receive after doing what we have done? Who are we, rich or poor? What are we hoping in?

Such questions are usually asked when something incomprehensible is happening. And that is how it was: the apostles truly understood almost nothing. They trusted the Teacher, but they always had difficulty understanding Him. And now a real theater of absurdity was beginning, behind which something so terrible could already be seen that the apostles were paralyzed by the very thought of that horror.

Jesus points them to the only way out: to look only to the Kingdom, to live only by it, to abide in it constantly. To the question "what will there be for us?" He answers: not "will be," but "is," already here and now. And ahead of you something still more joyful awaits. But if you do not see it, if you cannot receive it here and now, there will be no "later." For the Kingdom has already drawn near. And one must enter it now, without putting it off until later.

The apostles' path after Christ was not easy. And not because they knew what awaited Him and them ahead, but precisely because they did not know. Of course, after Peter's confession none of them doubted that Jesus was the very Messiah promised by God, whom the people of God had so long awaited.

But this Messiah acted in a completely mysterious and incomprehensible way. The apostles were people of their time; from the Messiah they expected the same thing as most of their contemporaries: He was to begin the messianic war against the pagans, and therefore against Rome, win this war, restore, in fact create anew, a strong Jewish state based on the laws of the Torah, and become king of this state.

If Jesus had acted that way, or even had intended to act that way, everything would have been clear to the apostles. Of course, a messianic uprising and the war that would inevitably follow it could not fail to frighten them. But the apostles were ready for this; the prospect of war as such would hardly have horrified them. Something else horrified them: that Jesus was precisely not going to do any of what they expected from Him. More than that, He more and more often began speaking to them about the death awaiting Him. And this was already completely incomprehensible.

Of course, the image of the suffering Messiah is present in the prophetic books, and everyone knew it well. But this image was usually interpreted in the sense that the Messiah might have to suffer precisely during the messianic war, and the measure of His suffering would depend on the sinfulness and impurity of those who would be near Him. But no one thought or spoke about the Messiah's death. It was assumed that after all the sufferings the Messiah would ultimately emerge from the war as victor and finally become King of His Kingdom, which, however, was perceived as a fully earthly phenomenon.

If the Messiah died, it would have been an utterly unthinkable cosmic catastrophe: for then it would turn out that God's plan for the deliverance of the people and the building of God's Kingdom had collapsed. Yet Jesus again and again says that He is going to Jerusalem not for victory and not for triumph, but for death. His disciples had reason to be horrified. And yet they still follow Him, because there is no other road for them anymore. They go into the unknown after the Teacher.

How much Christ's disciples understood His words about the Cross will forever remain a mystery for us. It is quite possible that some hope still glimmered in them that the Teacher was speaking in parables and that His prediction would not be fulfilled literally. Perhaps this explains the striking contrast between Christ's words about death and resurrection and the request of the sons of Zebedee. After all, only if one expected Christ to reign in glory could one ask Him for high places beside Him. "You do not know what you are asking" - these words of Christ emphasize the depth of human misunderstanding of God's plan. All the more inappropriate and presumptuous are the words of the sons of Zebedee that they can drink Christ's cup and be baptized with His baptism.

Two most important things stand out in Christ's answer. First, He says: "You will drink the cup that I drink." For a human being it would be natural to rebuke the brothers for exalting themselves: who among people can do this? But the Lord says: you will. His following words, that whoever wants to be first among His disciples must be slave of all, put everything in its place. The chief gift of Christ to His disciples is not nearness to the throne, but precisely His cup, the possibility of following Him along His way of the Cross. Therefore He tells the sons of Zebedee that "high position" must not be their goal. He opens to them the possibility of gaining nearness to God without acquiring any outward greatness. This is an exceptionally important revelation, one that applies to any of His disciples.

The apostles still had a poor idea of what the Kingdom that their Teacher brought into the world was, if they asked Him questions about who would occupy the places of honor beside Him in that Kingdom. For them, it was apparently a reality of our world, though an unusual one. Perhaps they thought the matter concerned an earthly state that, however, would be full of God's signs and wonders performed by their Teacher, who at last, with God's help, would take the place that belonged to Him. And the question about the cup and the washing, or "baptism," they most likely understood to mean that before the triumph all of them would face a long struggle, and each would receive no small share of suffering, which in general fit the messianic ideas accepted at the time.

Jesus, however, accepts their readiness, telling them that they will have to drink one cup with Him and be washed with one washing with Him, without going into details and without trying to explain anything to them. As can be seen, He understood that at that moment any explanations were useless: the disciples would not have understood Him anyway, just as they had not understood Him up to that point.

But Jesus tells His disciples right away that in His Kingdom everything is not as it is in earthly kingdoms, evidently so that they would have no illusions about this from the very beginning. As can be seen, He regards the inner readiness not to rule but to serve as the spiritual foundation without which there can be no question of life in the Kingdom. The details of the Kingdom's structure, however, He evidently considers less important: if the disciples do not understand them now, they will understand later, having acquired the corresponding spiritual experience. Thus the Savior Himself sets the priorities where spiritual life is concerned: first comes what is necessary in order to enter the Kingdom, and only afterward, as spiritual experience is accumulated, everything else.

The question of primacy periodically came up in the disciples' conversations among themselves, coming up again and again. They undoubtedly still imagined the Kingdom as entirely earthly, and in every earthly state, even one established by God, there is a king and there are those close to him. They naturally saw their Teacher as the King, since they had no doubt about His messiahship, but who would be among those close to Him? All twelve, that is clear, but someone would turn out to be among the closest; someone would sit at the King's right hand, and someone at His left.

That is how it had been in every age and in every state, and the apostles simply could not yet imagine the Kingdom in any other way. These conversations are especially remarkable against the background of Jesus' account of the sufferings and death awaiting Him. The disciples seem not to notice the Teacher's words, although in reality they simply do not hear Him, as a person often does not hear what does not fit into his consciousness. Jesus again and again tries to explain to them that in the Kingdom, which entered the world together with Him, everything is not as it is in the earthly kingdoms of the fallen world.

He says directly to the disciples: in the fallen world rulers strive for power above all, and for power not so much over bodies as over the souls of those whom they want to rule. Power in the fallen world is a way to take other people for oneself, their lives, their souls, so that afterward they belong to the ruler, and he can dispose of them at his own discretion, just as anyone is free to dispose of himself, his own soul, and his own life. The Kingdom is arranged differently; there the question of power, or rather of what there corresponds to the concept of power in the earthly sense, is the question of service.

To the extent that a person is ready to be the slave of all, to that extent he has power, in the special sense of the word, the sense in which it is applicable to the relations of the Kingdom. This is about slavery in the patriarchal form in which it existed among the Jews, when a slave was effectively a member of the household, but without rights. A slave claimed nothing in the house, but he lived in it and used everything in the house that the other members of the household used. In some cases he could even inherit from the master of the house.

A household slave worked as slaves always worked, without counting the cost and without demanding payment. In return he received as much as he needed, since he had no fixed wages. This is the position toward others that is adequate from the standpoint of the relations that bind the inhabitants of the Kingdom to one another. In the fallen world, of course, nothing like this can exist, but Jesus orients the disciples precisely toward the relations of the Kingdom, at least when it comes to their relations with Him and with one another.

"Going up to Jerusalem," Jesus again speaks of His sufferings and His resurrection; until now the disciples had not understood His words, and Peter had even argued with Him. Now He describes everything that must happen to Him. The disciples are horrified; but have they now understood the Teacher's words?

James and John ask Jesus to give them the most honorable places in His Kingdom. According to the customs of that time, the king's chief adviser sat at his right hand; the place at the left hand was considered second in importance. Christ answers the brothers, "You do not know what you are asking," and invites them to share with Him the cup of suffering. This is what happened to the brothers: John endured persecution (see Rev. 1:9), and his brother James was killed (Acts 12:2).

Wanting to restore peace among the disciples, Christ reveals to them that requests like this make no sense: in the Kingdom of God there is no pyramid of power such as exists in every earthly kingdom, no domination in the familiar sense. Who is greatest in the Kingdom of God? The one who serves most. And the One who serves most of all is the King Himself (cf. Phil. 2:7).

Perhaps for contrast, the Evangelist Mark tells about the request of blind Bartimaeus, to which the Lord responded with the miracle of healing. How was Bartimaeus's faith shown? He calls Jesus by the messianic title "Son of David" (not everyone liked this address; many order the blind man to be silent). As he goes to Jesus, he throws off his cloak - if he had remained blind, he would never have found it again. Finally, when he receives his sight, he follows Jesus.

The Lord responded to the plea of blind Bartimaeus, but rejected the request of two of His disciples. Let us ask ourselves: "What are my prayers like?" Perhaps Jesus is saying to me too, "You do not know what you are asking"?

From a human point of view, every risk should be justified. Of course, the disciples did not leave behind such wealth as the devout young man had, but all the same, Peter asks the Lord about the reward. And indeed: for the sake of what are they enduring hardships, wandering with Him through the country, for the sake of what should they go after Him to the cross (the words "Take up your cross" could only have been understood by them literally)? They fully realize the answer to this question only after the Resurrection and Pentecost, when they themselves, with their whole being, see and feel the immeasurable riches of God's life that will be given to them. We too, some of us less often and some more often, ask the same question: for the sake of what? Christianity becomes unbearably heavy and stifling when it turns into a bare system of moral prohibitions, ideological prescriptions, and dogmas. Only the life of the Spirit, only the joy of prayer, gives us awareness of how much we receive already here, "amid persecutions," while we are still on the way to the Kingdom.

Today's passage is devoted to the theme of wealth and how hard it is for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God. However, it would be more accurate to say that the episode given by the evangelist is connected not so much with the question of wealth as with the question of poverty. It is especially remarkable that even His own disciples are horrified by Jesus' words about the difficulty for a rich person to enter the Kingdom, although it would seem that they had nothing left to fear: they had left everything they had and followed Jesus, just as Peter says (vv. 23-28). Apparently, when Jesus speaks of poverty, He has in mind not only material wealth, and His disciples understand this well. The conversation with the rich young man does not begin at all with a question about property, but with a question about keeping the commandments already known from the Old Testament books (vv. 19-20). Only after the young man wanted something more, something that would let him reach perfection sooner, did the conversation turn to his property (vv. 21-22). In general, in Gospel times there were religious communities whose members, upon entering the community, donated all their property to it and afterward relied only on the support of the community they had joined. The apostolic community was the same: its members also evidently had no property of their own, receiving support from the common treasury. And yet the apostles, who had resolved to do what the rich young man did not resolve to do, feel that Jesus' words about wealth apply to them as well. Perhaps they understood what Jesus said about those who trust in wealth (vv. 24-25): it became clear to them that they had to give up every hope in anything whatsoever in this world. Otherwise one would have to squeeze into the Kingdom of God like a loaded camel through the "Needle's Eye" (this was the name in Jerusalem for a special narrow and winding passage in the city gates, through which an animal as comparatively large as a camel could pass only with great difficulty, squeezing between the walls). And they also understood that a person has no strength to live this way (v. 26). Jesus did not try to persuade them otherwise; He only observed that what a person cannot do himself, God can do for him, if only the person wants it (v. 27).

The question of possessions has periodically become central in Christian history, if not for all, then for many Christians. People appeared who asserted that a Christian not only can, but absolutely must, be poor, completely and absolutely poor; otherwise he will have to forget about salvation and the Kingdom.

Some of the stories told by the evangelists can indeed lead to such thoughts, especially at first glance. Meanwhile, Jesus Himself was not completely destitute: in the community of disciples that He headed there was a common purse, which is mentioned in one way or another in all four Gospels. That purse, admittedly, was managed by Judas Iscariot, which has undoubtedly served at all times as an additional argument for supporters of complete and absolute poverty. Yet the apostles themselves reacted to the Savior's words about the difficulty of salvation for the rich, and in such a way as if all of them were rich men. If the matter were material wealth, money, or possessions in general, they would have had nothing to worry about; but, as is clear, the disciples understood that the Teacher meant something more.

The young man who was speaking with Jesus was indeed materially rich, but the matter was not material wealth as such. Jesus simply answers the question asked: what do I lack for the Kingdom? This is precisely the question the young man asks Jesus, expecting an answer like the one learned rabbis and teachers of the Torah often gave then. He thought that, like them, Jesus would offer him some special means: a prayer, for example, or a special ascetic exercise, or some secret connected with observing the norms and rules of ritual purity - in short, something that would allow him to enter the Kingdom. He did not expect the simple answer about the commandments: "All these I have kept from my youth." There was nothing special in that; most observant Jews could say the same about themselves. The young man, however, is seeking something precisely special; he wants to receive the key to the Kingdom, and he is looking for it as he goes from one spiritual teacher to another.

Jesus can offer him only one thing: complete poverty. Not poverty in the literal sense, but poverty as readiness to give up what one considers one's own. In the Kingdom no one has anything of their own. Each person uses everything he needs, but does not appropriate what he uses. He does not cling to it with his heart, which remains free. This task is harder than completely renouncing possessions, and this time the disciples understood their Teacher very well. Such poverty is not so much a human matter as God's, as Jesus tells them.

The evangelists report that Jesus' conversation partner was not only rich, but also young (Matt. 19:20) and influential ("one of the rulers," Luke 18:18). But this brilliant young man has no peace. One question torments him, and he asks it of the Teacher.

Jesus knows that His answer will not make the young man happy. Therefore He says, as it were, to His conversation partner: "Do you really consider Me good? Then receive My word, the good word of the good God, although it will not seem good to you." Evidently the young man thinks he has fulfilled all the commandments of the Law of Moses, and not only those Jesus named. So he is rich, influential, young, and pious. But for some reason he himself is not sure this is enough. And Jesus knows that it is not enough.

Jesus loved the rich young man, and saddened him. Sometimes God's love is manifested in the fact that He saddens us. He saddens us so that our eyes may be opened, and then there is hope of salvation. It is better for us to "go away sorrowful" for a time than to continue in error.

The disciples were amazed because they understood: even this excellent young man was not yet ready to enter the Kingdom of God. "Who then can be saved?... With men this is impossible..." Peter tries, though not directly, to argue with the Teacher: "And what about us? We have fulfilled what You are talking about: we have left everything and followed You." Peter still hopes in himself, and a trial awaits him that will crush his self-confidence (Mark 14:66-72). As if hinting at this, Jesus says: "But many who are first will be last, and the last first." These words of the Lord are useful for us to remember too.

The Savior's words that it is hard for a rich person to enter the Kingdom have often been remembered, and are remembered now, with the difficulty understood as impossibility. But Jesus did not say "impossible"; He said "hard." Much has also been said and written about Gospel poverty. Still, the community that formed around Jesus was not a community of mendicant monks. The apostles received donations in such amounts that there was even enough for charity. Perhaps the hardest thing for the rich young man was not to give away his possessions, but to enter the community. To give up freedom. To give up his accustomed way of life. To give up the independence that a person of means could hardly fail to have. In a certain sense, to give up himself: in the apostolic community, of course, no one held anyone by force, but once a person found himself in it, once he touched the Kingdom, he could no longer become what he had been before. He could not simply go back as if nothing had happened in his life. The step offered to the young man who asked the question seemed to him, and really was, irreversible: whatever happened next, there could be no road back. He asked his question as a religious and pious person. He wanted to understand what else this amazing and strange Teacher would propose that he do. But the Teacher offered him neither new rules, nor new knowledge, nor a new morality. He offered him the Kingdom. And the young man understood everything. And, sorrowful, he stepped aside. In any case, that was more honest. This young man betrayed no one and renounced nothing. And Jesus only said after him that it is hard for a rich person to enter the Kingdom.