Notes for  8 April 2021

It seems to us mostly that we are initially kindly in every situation, and the way our relation changes, is defined by the developing events. So, if our partner, being in the situation of interlocutor, begins to disagree, to argue with us, we begin to behave more badly towards him, reaching finally to hatred. But if the partner is good to us, our kindness increases, coming to love.

The aphorism we read today overturns everything totally on the contrary. The source of the way events develop is in our heart. If the hatred towards the interlocutor "sits" in it {the heart}, then it will absolutely burst into strifes, in the break of relations. But if it is the love that lives in us, then we are ready to forgive the most rough and unpleasant words and acts, we will not even notice the sins. The one, whom we love, is dear to us in spite of everything, but the one that we hate has no chance, even for dialogue. And the problem is not in the situations, but in us.

In Isaiah's prophecy today, what matters most to us is not so much the historical details as what the Lord says about His actions. Leaders of the people who base their work on utter deception are such a common and familiar phenomenon that they are not even worth discussing. “Nothing will happen to us; we can fool everyone” is an almost universal principle of governance. What truly matters is that the Lord lays in Zion a cornerstone as the foundation of all truth. This stone is Christ, and the Lord says of Him: “I will make justice the measuring line and righteousness the plumb line; hail will sweep away the refuge of lies.” Christ's coming brought light into the world, by which truth becomes visible and falsehood is exposed. And the one who believes in the victory of truth will not be put to shame, says the Lord. If that is so, what sense is there in living a lie?

Thus Peter and John performed a healing in the name of Jesus. The people’s reaction is understandable: delight, amazement... Peter immediately tries to put everything in its proper place. He says, “Why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk?” It is truly very important to Peter that people understand who performs the healing, that they know that he and John are only instruments in His hands. Glory and thanksgiving must be directed to the Lord alone.

In conversations with His disciples and in His preaching, Jesus often speaks about the Torah and its proper understanding. In the Synodal text, the Torah is usually called the “Law.” Although this translation is formally correct, it does not fully convey the meaning of the corresponding Hebrew word. The Torah is more than simply law in the sense in which we usually use that word, more than legislation or the legal order it establishes. The Torah also presupposes a way of life corresponding to the law, including the inner spiritual state appropriate to such a way of life. In Gospel times, the concept of the “living Torah,” which every believing Jew should ideally become, became quite widespread in rabbinic circles and in the Synagogue generally. This meant a person’s spiritual state in which the Torah becomes something inwardly inherent, determining the whole of life in all its manifestations. This understanding was very close to Jesus. It is no accident that He Himself says He came not to destroy or change the Torah, but to bring it to fullness (v. 17; in the Synodal translation this thought is conveyed by the word “fulfill”). The first thing to which He draws His listeners’ attention is their intentions, or, as psychologists say today, their intentionality. If you hate, consider yourself a murderer (vv. 21–22); if you lust, consider yourself sexually immoral (vv. 27–28). Otherwise, according to Jesus, our righteousness remains within the bounds of ordinary religiosity and “does not exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees” (v. 20), who, as deeply religious people, naturally observed all the commandments of the Decalogue outwardly, at the behavioral level. But that, it turns out, is not enough for the Kingdom. This is not about requirements deliberately set too high so that one might be “holier than everyone else.” It is simply that in this world our actions determine our spiritual quality and condition, while in the Kingdom our intentions do. One might say that in our fallen world we are what we do, while in the Kingdom we will become what we desire. If, while hating someone, we refrain from murder for God’s sake, this is a serious spiritual achievement for our fallen world. For the Kingdom, however, it is a failure. The spiritual standard Jesus raises so high is needed to save us from such a failure.

Yesterday we read the Apostle’s words that before rising with Christ, we must die with Him, so that our sin might also die. By dying with Him, we become free from sin. And Baptism gives us this freedom. But for what purpose is it given to us? So that we may return to lawlessness? It seems obvious that it is not. Yet human nature is such that, alas, it is impossible to preserve the whiteness of our baptismal garments. And then we gradually begin to forget the grace bestowed upon us.

Paul, however, calls us who have received new life to give it to God and become “slaves of righteousness.” For He alone knows our true purpose; He alone knows the one path by which we can pass from sin to righteousness.

This is another of the Apostle’s paradoxes, for he so loves to speak of the Christian’s true freedom and of acting according to the “conviction of one’s own mind.” Yet in the words we read today, it becomes clear that our true freedom consists precisely in submitting our weak human will to God. God alone can lead us from death to life, because He Himself is true Life.

The consecration of priests in Yahwism is a special ritual. It is connected with the understanding of sacrifice characteristic of the Yahwistic tradition and with the corresponding understanding of holiness. In Yahwism, holiness presupposes above all participation in that presence of God which was revealed to Moses at Sinai and then accompanied the people throughout the course of their earthly history.

The priesthood was established so that among God’s people, at all times and in every moment, there would be a certain group of people living in a state of consecration and standing at the altar, literally and physically in the place of God’s presence. The rites of consecration for priests described in the Book of Exodus were needed to introduce those who were to serve God directly into the spiritual space where communion with God was an everyday reality.

Before the coming of Christ, such a state was not ordinary for human beings, as it is for us today. Today we live in a world to which the Kingdom, in the Savior’s words, has “drawn near”—so near that its breath is felt everywhere, and anyone to whom it matters can come into contact with it. In the days of Moses, however, when almost fifteen centuries remained before Christ’s coming, everything was different.

Direct communion with God was then the exception rather than the rule. It was given rarely and to few people, and at the cost of great effort. God’s dwelling among His people was the sole exception, an enormous possibility open to everyone who belonged to that people. Yet this possibility could be used only with the necessary effort. One had to change one’s life completely, living solely for this Presence and by this Presence alone.

Few people in those days could live such a life; it required special spiritual strength, and the consecration of priests for service was to give them that strength. There was, of course, nothing automatic or magical here. To truly receive the strength needed for service, one had to turn to God and establish with Him the relationship that would allow Him to interact with the person being consecrated. Yet the possibility of such consecration existed; whether to make use of it depended on the person being consecrated.