NOTES for Mat 19:23-30

In the book of Judges we read the story of Gideon's calling. The Angel of the Lord comes to him when he was about to hide from the enemies, and Gideon asks how it happened that the Lord had abandoned His people. "The Lord looked at him and said, Go in this strength of yours and save Israel from the hand of the Midianites; I am sending you. [Gideon] said to Him, Lord, how shall I save Israel? Look, my clan is the poorest in Manasseh, and I am the youngest in my father's house. And the Lord said to him, I will be with you, and you will strike the Midianites as one man."

And now let us read the Gospel passage. After Jesus overturns the disciples' ideas about the role of wealth in a person's salvation, they cry out bitterly, "Who then can be saved?" Jesus, looking at them, utters one of the most important phrases in the whole Gospel: "With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." And then, as in Gideon's case, He encourages the disciples who are aware of their weakness and smallness: "But many who are first will be last, and the last first." Notice this word "looking" in both cases. Did the Lord not look at His conversation partners before this? He did, but before saying something very important, He establishes a special contact, "eye to eye," so that the listener will not miss what is about to be said.

We often expect God to say something to us; we are afraid of missing it, and rightly so. Still, we can hope that if He wants to say something truly essential to us, He will "look" at us, and we at Him.

The dialogue between Christ and the rich young man stirs strong emotions in most of us, because we are instantly frightened that such a call may be addressed to us as well, and that fulfilling it will be as hard for us as it was for this young man. No logic works at that moment. It is pointless to explain that this call is not addressed to everyone, for then there would simply be no one to buy the possessions being sold. It is pointless to recall that the Lord Himself says that the one who walks this path gains incomparably more than he loses. The fear of parting with what we have acquired seizes us to our fingertips: we stubbornly see property as the source of our being and dignity...

This is exactly what the people of Israel experienced after leaving Egypt. Slavery provided a "subsistence minimum," and therefore it became more desirable than such difficult freedom. We too remember sausage for 2.20, those of us who still caught that time, not because it was good, for it was exceptionally vile, but because it served as a phantom of reliability, when one could quietly vegetate in a tiny burrow and not labor to trust God.

This is precisely why this call of Christ is so important for us. Even if He does not at this moment demand personally of you that you sell your property, these words are addressed to you as well. A slave differs from a free person in that he cannot part with his enslaver: if you are unable to part with the phantom of security, with the possession of property, then you are merely its slave, and nothing more. It turns out that the demand to give away property is only one manifestation of the great call to freedom in Christ that runs through the whole Gospel.

These words of the Lord Jesus Christ constitute the radical difference between Christianity and all religions and religious-philosophical systems. All of them, in one way or another, seek ways of salvation from death that would be accessible to human beings. Along this path people discovered many beautiful things; more than once the Truth glimmered before them like the sun through the clouds. The center of biblical moral teaching ("do not do to another what you do not want done to yourself") was grasped by ancient sages through the experience of their lives. Union with the Invisible, giving us a way out of the limitations of this world, was also found as the highest value in the analysis of the world order... Many religions contain grains of Revelation, perhaps quite accidental ones... But still they all remain human attempts to find the road to heaven.

In the same way, the dream of flight, which inspired people from ancient times, led to the creation of many different flying machines, but a person still cannot simply fly the way a bird does...

The Kingdom of Christ, unlike all religions, is precisely the sphere where God Himself accomplishes the impossible for us.

In the passage from the Gospel according to Matthew that we read today, the Lord says two things that are important for our understanding of holiness. First, a disciple of Christ is someone for whom the Lord Himself and the confession of Him matter more than anything else in life; someone ready to lose everything, even his own soul—that is, his life—for Christ. Neither deeds nor spiritual or other achievements, nothing makes a person Christ's disciple except the concentration of his entire life around one center, the “one thing needful”—Christ.

No less important are the final verses of chapter 10: the Lord speaks of how the holiness of His disciples is expressed. It is the ability to receive other people and do good to them. The scale of the good deed is entirely unimportant—even if you can do nothing but give a cup of cold water to someone who is thirsty, you will not lose your reward. The holiness of Christ's disciples is expressed precisely in their attitude toward people; everything else is beside the point.

If these words are taken directly, so to speak with mathematical strictness, they turn out to be insurmountably difficult. Where is the selflessness here? What is disinterestedness here? To give in order to receive a hundred times more - that is simply an incredibly successful investment!

In fact, something completely different is meant here. When such doubts overcome us, one text comes to mind. The person who wrote it found faith while awaiting execution for murder. He had no education, and for that very reason the text itself is perceived simply as a miracle. This is what he writes: 'Yes, I accepted faith in mortal danger, when it was unknown whether I would be pardoned or not; but even in childhood, when dogs attacked in the yard or neighborhood boys threatened to beat me, I ran to my parents. So what is strange in the fact that now I run to my Heavenly Father?'

Here lies a very important distinction. Did he accept faith because in his situation it was the best way out and nothing else remained for him? Because it was useful for him to think that God and immortality exist? 'Benefit,' a clever and cold atheist will think. But if one looks closely, how much sincerity there is in these words, how much childlike trustfulness there is in them, then not with the mind - no, in no case - but only with the heart can one feel that the truest truth is hidden precisely here.

And then you understand: the essence here is not calculation and not the search for benefit. One simply needs, like a child, with eyes squeezed shut, to cling to God as to mommy who has come to pick you up from kindergarten - and then... only then is it given to you.

What advice can be given to someone who wants to live a worthy life, so as not to be ashamed later of years lived without purpose? Probably the same advice Jesus gave the young man: keep the commandments, live according to the Word of God—that is, receive from God the revelation of the life He has conceived and try to fulfill His design. It is not so very difficult to be a good person: do no harm to others, be honest, be faithful to God and people, and live in love. What more is there? What further perfection can one speak of? Apparently, when God descends to earth, He brings with Him another, new path of righteousness: a person lives not only according to God’s Word, but by God Himself—through unceasing communion with Him, following Him, and placing hope in Him alone. Earthly wealth then becomes out of place, and things once valued lose their meaning: houses, lands, and family ties. How could one not go away sorrowful? Or, after all, is everything possible for God?

It can be said that the young man himself "asked for" the proposal to give up his possessions, since at first he was simply told to keep the commandments prescribed for everyone. But then he declared that he had kept all this, that is, the commandments, from his youth.

Of course, one can ask another question: is the young man claiming too much for himself, since it is very hard never to break a single commandment even once? But let us suppose that the young man managed to live blamelessly. Even so, in that case he still feels that something is lacking for him; his spiritual hunger is not satisfied. What should he do next? And only after this does Jesus propose that he make a difficult decision.

But the proposal corresponds to the request: the commandments given for everyone are not enough for you; you wanted to surpass the general level, so do what surpasses what is offered to the rest. And so the young man leaves, unable to do what he himself had asked about.

The words Jesus speaks to the disciples after the young man leaves are full of sorrow. If we listen closely, He is grieving that earthly wealth blocks people from heaven. We are used to applying these words to those who are especially rich, but if we think carefully, even people of modest means, or even the poor, may have some very small treasure that blocks heaven no less, or even more, than millions of dollars or vast estates. It is hard for even a very thin and unloaded camel to pass through the eye of a needle.

But Christ again and again invites us not to cling to earthly wealth. After all, He gives us not only everything necessary for earthly life, but much more as well, that which surpasses any earthly wealth.

Let us quote from a sermon by Metropolitan Anthony (Bloom): "Today the Lord warns us how hard it is for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God. Does this mean that the Kingdom of God is open only to the deprived, to the one in material need, to the one who has been stripped of everything on earth? No. The Kingdom of God is open to everyone who is not enslaved by what he has. In the first beatitude - Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven - we are given the key to today's parable: the poor in spirit are those who have understood that they possess nothing as their own."

Wealth and poverty, wealth of spirit and poverty of spirit - these are four different concepts we need to keep in mind in connection with today's passage. The Metropolitan contrasts wealth not with material poverty, but with poverty of spirit, and this is very important to understand. But how should we arrange the remaining two concepts in order to complete the picture?

Let us return again to the Metropolitan's text: "Poverty is not the same as deprivation; poverty means freedom from enslavement to the illusion that we are self-sufficient, that we are the creators of what we are and what we possess. And this means being free from enslavement to what has been given to us, so that we may become God's coworkers, only stewards, as it were, over the property God has entrusted to us."

This means that poverty precisely as deprivation is not opposed to wealth, as it often seems to us, but in a certain sense stands on the same pole with it. And on the other pole are wealth of spirit and poverty of spirit.

The Apostle Paul describes very well this closeness and this flowing of wealth and poverty of spirit into one another: "For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich" (2 Cor 8:9).

This conversation strips away all exalted sentiment. “Oh, I have already fulfilled all the commandments. Oh Lord, how wonderful You are; what could I do for You? Just tell me—I am ready for anything.” When we remain in such a mood, we forget that God is a wholly unsuitable partner for the game “ask for anything you like, just not that.” He always offers His own option, and there is no guarantee that His proposal will suit us. It may grieve us, offend us, and show us where we actually are. And if we are capable of seeing, it may also let us understand where we ought to be. When we ask God what we should do for Him, we must understand that God is free. It is absurd to judge Him by ourselves. He does not deceive Himself, and He does not deceive us. In His mercy He does not show us everything He sees in us, but teaches us gradually and carefully. When we tell Him, “I am ready for anything,” we must be ready for Him to ask for everything, without exception, without remainder, to the very end.

The young man asks the question that matters most to us: the question of eternal life. At the same time he asks, "what must I do to have eternal life?" This is the approach of the Law, and Jesus naturally draws the young man's attention to how he fulfills the Law. Hearing that he does fulfill it, Jesus invites him to go beyond the legalistic approach: "If you want to BE perfect..."

To be, not to have! Eternal life is not something one has, but something one enters in order to be. And one enters eternal life not by means of what one possesses, whether spiritual or material riches, one's own righteousness, or "great possessions." It is extremely difficult for a person to give up any wealth, and the greater the wealth, the harder it is. Everything we have we received from God: our abilities and talents, and material goods as well. But if we begin to regard everything we received as a gift as our own, as our property, we become those rich people for whom it is impossible to enter the Kingdom of God. This Kingdom is given, not appropriated.

There is one path of salvation: "give everything away and follow Me"; be freed from possession and from yourself for God's sake, and entrust yourself to Him, for salvation is impossible for human beings, but "all things are possible for God."

This conversation strips away all exaltation. “Ah, I have already kept all the commandments. Ah, Lord, how wonderful You are; what could I do for You? Just say the word: I am ready for anything.” In such a state of mind, we forget that God is entirely the wrong partner for the game “ask whatever you want, as long as it is not that”. He always proposes His own course, and there is no guarantee that His proposal will suit us. It may grieve us, offend us, and show us where we are. And, if we are able to see, help us understand where we ought to be.

When we ask God what we can do for Him, we must understand that God is free. It is ridiculous to judge Him by ourselves. He does not deceive Himself, nor does He deceive us. In His mercy, He does not show us everything He sees in us, but teaches us gradually and gently. And when we tell Him, “I am ready for anything,” we must be ready for Him to ask for everything without exception, leaving nothing, to the very end.

So what, after all, does Jesus advise the young man who came to Him to do for salvation? In essence, nothing new: the same old path of righteousness, perfectly well known to everyone. If you want to enter the Kingdom, into "eternal life," keep the commandments. Not some new, unusual commandments invented by some learned rabbi or teacher of the Torah, but the old, well-known ones given by God to Moses long ago.

And the inquisitive young man, who of course had known about the path of righteousness and the commandments since childhood, still wants to find out: besides this path, already obvious to everyone, is there something else? Some secret knowledge, or a special spiritual practice, or something else of that sort?

In those days, teachers of the Torah or learned rabbi-mentors often proposed one or another special path of righteous life, bringing to the foreground either a special practice of prayer (that very period saw the height of the discussion over whether a believing Jew was obligated to recite the Shema, the main Jewish prayer, without interruption or not; as we can see, many rabbis and teachers of the Torah were convinced that this was absolutely necessary), or frequent fasts, or a special way of observing the Sabbath and certain other religious regulations. But these were always "commandments plus," and the content of the plus depended only on the interpretation of the particular teacher.

Jesus advises the young man who came to Him to do nothing of the kind. He adds nothing to the commandments once given by His Father to His people. Except one thing: renounce everything you have in this life and in this world. Become poor, He tells the young man. This is the only thing you lack, and the only thing you can do to draw near to the Kingdom, to "eternal life." And the young man goes away, realizing that such a path is beyond his strength.

But most interesting of all is the reaction of the disciples: they too are in doubt, even in fear. Then who can be saved? And this despite the fact that they really did leave everything and follow Jesus. As we can see, the apostles understood that the issue is not property as such, but something else, something more serious and important.

Perhaps it is that attitude both toward one's own property and toward life itself which determines whether a person can truly be considered poor, whether he is ready to part not with property and not even with social status, but with the order of things that defines the life of the untransformed world. After all, only such readiness, not the presence or absence of property or high social position, makes a person fit for life in the Kingdom. And Jesus' closest disciples may have thought about this seriously for the first time. And having thought about it, they understood: no one is ready. And the Kingdom can be obtained only by the mercy of God.

The disciples’ horror is understandable: if it is so difficult for a rich person to be saved, what can be said of the poor, who often have no opportunity to fulfill the precepts of the Law? Christ confirms their intuitive realization: salvation—that is, passing into a new life with God and being delivered from hatred and unbelief—is altogether impossible. It is impossible for human beings; God alone can accomplish it. Those closest to salvation, therefore, are those who do not suppose from the outset that they are capable of drawing near to God by their own power. The young man, who had kept the chief commandments since childhood, was clearly a very good person. Yet his wealth—not money, but confidence in his ability to “be perfect”—leads him away from the Gospel message that “all things are possible with God.” He “goes away sorrowful,” thereby losing his “wealth of spirit” and gaining the possibility of entering the Kingdom together with the disciples, not by his own righteousness but through the almighty power of God’s love.