NOTES for Mat 14:1-21

When you prayerfully reflect on the image of John the Baptist, as though focusing your gaze on his icon, you understand that he is some entirely special person. After all, the Gospel contains many remarkable people, kind and sincerely loving the Lord... But in John there is something that seems to separate him from everyone, to set him a little aside. “Among those born of women there has not arisen anyone greater than John the Baptist...” (Matt. 11:11) — perhaps precisely here lies the reason for this feeling of inaccessibility, of remoteness.

And yet he was only a human being. There is one other human being before whom we have a similar feeling of inaccessibility: Mary. She is simply a woman, and at the same time She is far greater than any woman, for She carried in Her womb the Son of God Himself. This is what unites these two people, apart from blood kinship. But not only this: both became those through whom the birth of Christ was accomplished, in the flesh through Mary, and in the Spirit through John. And both at the same time felt themselves to be humble, unworthy witnesses of the miracle taking place before their eyes.

This is probably why these three icons stand at the center of the Deesis row: Mary, the Savior, and John. And the words of the prayer become somehow especially understandable: “As by natural kinship and by prayerful concord you are one, Mother of the King of all and divine Forerunner, offer together a supplication for the servant who has greatly angered the All-merciful One, that He may show mercy and save, bowing to your intercessions, and change me from my fiery kinship.”

The ancient Persians thought that two equal powers, good and evil, act in the world. Pagans believed that among the various deities some are friendly to human beings and others hostile to them. But in reality there is only one God, and He is merciful. This Revelation is not as simple as it appears. We like to imagine scenes of an apocalyptic confrontation between good and evil; it looks more honorable to us to take part in a grand battle against a corresponding opponent. Therefore we take an allegorical description of the essence for a literal description of events.

Perhaps we have become so accustomed to life in hell that we do not see how monstrous the ordinary is. What small, empty things, in essence, led to the death of the greatest of those born of women, John the Forerunner! Well, this girl danced a provocative dance... Well, her mother wanted to maintain an appearance of respectability so that she would not be reproached for her marriage... The satanic snarl that suddenly appeared surprises us: "Give me John's head on a platter." But we, too, dispose of people's lives in exactly the same way over the most complete trifles. John was the Forerunner of Christ not only because he announced His coming and proclaimed Him. By his death he also foretold how petty envy and momentary political calculation would lead to the death of the Son of God.

When reading today's Gospel word, it is important to keep in mind that in our daily life we are the same Herodias, and our actions, dictated by petty and essentially pitiful interests, lead to catastrophic consequences.

Today's passage is one of the places in the Bible that speaks of an obvious lack of human freedom. For the sake of an oath made before his nobles, a drunken king is ready to override both his fears and the remnants of his conscience.

The evangelists' attitude toward Herod Antipas is interesting. They seem reluctant to condemn him and regard him with a certain indulgence. Indeed, the king appears before us as a man with very little freedom: he arrests John not on his own initiative, but because John denounces his unlawful marriage; he listens to John in prison while trying to resist the intrigues of the queen, who is seeking the prophet's execution. And now he “has to” behead him, once again against his own will.

Need we say that a person commits the greatest evil when deprived of freedom, under the power of suggestion, pressure, and circumstances that they cannot, or do not want to, resist and that draw them into sin and death? Once we understand this, we begin to value anew the freedom Christ gives: the freedom to resist circumstances and human and demonic pressure; as one priest put it, the freedom “to disobey evil.”

Herod's reaction to John's rebukes is banal. He so does not want some preacher spoiling his mood and sticking his nose into his personal life. It would be good if he did not exist at all.

And yet even Herod, who allowed himself much and paid little regard to anyone, did not dare kill John, because he feared the people. This is not surprising, since many of those who try to appear "tough" and show off their ruthlessness are in fact inwardly weak, saturated with hidden fears and complexes. Inner instability, the desire to show off before the guests, and at the same time dependence on the "public opinion" of those gathered at the feast forced Herod first to make a rash oath and then to agree to murder. Having rejected the preaching of John the Baptist, Herod rejected the possibility of repenting of his sins, and then multiplied them. And now he would have to spend the rest of his life in fear.

Fear is Herod's first reaction when he receives the news of Christ's preaching. Thinking that John has risen, Herod is mistaken, but there is a grain of truth in his mistaken fears. For the One whom he took for the risen John truly does bring Resurrection. Even saturated with evil, Herod sensed the invincibility of good.

Christ rejects none of those who rush toward Him. Moreover, Christ does not even require that those who come to Him already understand the meaning of His coming. He sees perfectly well that people are asking for the satisfaction of everyday needs. But the fact that the people are ready to follow Him even into the wilderness says that those who listen are ready to receive from Him something greater than relief in the conditions of earthly existence. Thus the spiritual path leading to the heavenly goal begins with something small and earthly.

Let us note that all this takes place in anxious days shortly after John's execution, when it was unclear what to expect from Herod. Christ's desire in those days to be alone is entirely natural; it is a distant echo of the solitude in Gethsemane. But this time a crowd rushed after Christ, which increased the risk of provocations from both Herod and the Romans.

Yet, despite all the dangers, Jesus drives no one away. Moreover, on His own initiative He heals the sick. The evangelist notes that He had compassion on them. Let us add only that He came to us and went up to Golgotha because He had compassion on all of us.

Caring for the people, Christ does not want to send them into the nearby villages for food. Just try to imagine what might have happened if hungry crowds, with night approaching, had rushed out for bread... So He delivered people not only from hunger, but also from many other troubles, when He proposed that the apostles feed them. He could have created some kind of food Himself, but it is important to Him that the disciples take part in this. Let us note that after blessing it, He broke the bread found by the disciples and gave it specifically to the disciples, and they gave it to the people.

It is hardly accidental that the evangelist notes that before the meal began Jesus looked up to heaven. His blessing of the bread, eaten before the face of the Heavenly Father, makes us remember the Eucharist, the fact that at the Last Supper He will call the bread His Body. There is a suggestion that at the multiplication the bread was passed from hand to hand as was customary at a Jewish meal. The one seated at the head of the meal would break off a piece from a large loaf and give both parts to his neighbor; that person would take the small piece and, breaking off another for the next person, would pass it on together with the large loaf. In that case the loaves were multiplied in the hands of those who ate, and everyone became a participant in the miracle. So too the Lord wants to see us as His coworkers.

Today we see how the Lord fulfills His pastoral duties toward the disciples. Sometimes the circumstances of His life are such that, in order to feed the disciples and save them from destruction, He has to perform miracles. He truly has to, for we know that Jesus never used His divine authority over nature to entice people with “signs.” Yet the miraculous character of His help and care serves to strengthen the faith of the disciples, the future preachers of His Gospel. Twice they find themselves in a hopeless situation: first in a hungry wilderness where there is nowhere to obtain bread, and then in a watery wilderness, alone without the Teacher and on the brink of death. Both times He comes to their aid, doing the impossible. Peter's bold request, ready as he is to step onto the waves and walk toward Jesus, arises precisely from the apostles' new faith that the Lord will never abandon them, but will always support and strengthen them, even if this requires Him to “alter the order of nature.”

What is most important about the meal Jesus arranges for the people listening to Him? One could say the miracle, and that would be true. But what is a miracle? One could also say the manifestation of the Kingdom, and that too would be true. Yet the Kingdom is the breath of God, the power of God, and the love of God acting in a particular way. What way is that? The evangelist explains by mentioning that Jesus blessed the food.

One might think that such an ordinary feature of Jewish life as a blessing hardly needed special mention. Yet the evangelist mentions it, and most likely not by accident. What, after all, was this customary Jewish blessing of food? In essence, it was nothing other than an invitation to God to sanctify the table and join the meal, where He was always awaited as the dearest guest. Jesus apparently does the same: He invites His heavenly Father to join the meal He arranges for the people listening to Him. But God's presence always gives the gathering itself a new quality. God's people are a people-community; that is how God intended them to be. Every sacred gathering, including one in a home, reveals and actualizes this quality, making it a reality wherever and whenever those assembled call upon God to bless their fellowship. The place where those who call upon God gather then becomes sacred space; it is no longer merely the meeting place of the community but the place of God's presence.

And what if the meal is blessed by the One who brought the Kingdom into the world in all its fullness? How great must the fullness of God's presence be in that case? Clearly, we must speak here not simply of sacred space as a place of God's presence and His meeting with the faithful, but of the Kingdom, which is precisely such sacred space in all its possible fullness. There God's presence is revealed as nowhere else, and the meeting becomes not merely an episode but the norm of life, for life in the Kingdom is life in God's presence, without which there is no Kingdom. When Jesus blesses the food, everyone nearby becomes, at least for a time, an inhabitant of the Kingdom.

Of course, such participation in itself guarantees nothing; it can be regarded as a kind of spiritual advance. But that advance can also become the first step on the path to the Kingdom, and therefore on the path to salvation.

When we read today’s Gospel passage, our hearts overflow with an immeasurable love and gratitude toward the Lord, our Father who is so caring and kind. But this feeling should not be one of intoxication, but one of sobriety and vigilance. Let us quote a passage from a sermon by Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh devoted to today’s reading.

“And here is Christ’s challenge to the disciples, and Christ’s challenge to us. Yes, in a certain sense God alone can work this miracle; but only if we cooperate with this miracle through the openness of our hearts and the openness of our hands, placing into the miracle everything we have. Christ did not say to the disciples: keep what you need for yourselves and give the rest, give others what remains. He said: take everything you have and give it all...

Is this not what the Lord is saying to us now, with particular emphasis, when we are so secure, so rich, so prosperous, and when day after day we hear of hunger and destitution and the starvation of thousands upon thousands of people? And the Lord says to us quite simply: give what you have and leave Me to act further; do not ask Me for a miracle when you can do what is needed...”