NOTES for Rom 14:19-23

It sounds a little boring, it doesn’t inspire, isn’t it? It would have been better: "we shall look for what serves our self-affirmation and to the mutual pleasure ". The word "peace" reminds us of old slogans of fight for peace, and the word "edify" - the most disgusting professors at school.

Why is it so? How come that these magnificent words were so pervert in our perception? Indeed, "peace" is not just an absence of war and even nor the absence of hostilities. In the biblical language, "shalom" is a state of the Creation in the seventh day, when God, having achieved everything, rests, when everything is "very good". Such are " the new heaven and the new earth", of which are said to prophets and in the book of Revelation, the new world, which can be compared with the initial meaning of the Greek word "cosmos", word from which derives "cosmetic", because the Cosmos is the Universe filled with beauties. “Peace" - genuine integrity, harmony, order and beauty. And it is exactly what the apostle Paul invites us to look for, such a peace in us and in our relationships one with another, which is created only by God.

And the word "edify" describes not a notation, but the "cultuvation", the increase of good, what is well. There is also a wonderful thing here related to God. God is Good Himself, and He is infinite, that is why the common conservation laws as "if something was added somewhere, then so much decreased somewhere else" do not work in all that is bound to the notion of good. When we share something nice with another (love, consolation, knowledge etc.), it arrives to the another then, and it doesn’t not only decrease in us, but in an unexpected way increases rather, takes place a mutual edification, a mutual growth in good, a joint movement towards the true Good, towards God.

Somehow this sounds dull and uninspiring, does it not? It would be much better to say, "Let us seek what serves our self-assertion and mutual pleasure." The word "peace" reminds us of old slogans about the struggle for peace, and "edification" of the most unpleasant teachers at school.

Why is this so? How did it happen that these wonderful words became so distorted in our perception? After all, "peace" is not simply the absence of war, or even the absence of hostility. In the biblical language, "shalom" is the state of Creation on the seventh day, when God, having completed everything, rests, when everything is "very good." Such also are the "new heaven and earth" spoken of in the prophets and in the book of Revelation, that new world which can be compared with the original meaning of the Greek word "cosmos," the word from which "cosmetics" comes, because the Cosmos is the Universe filled with beauty. "Peace" is true wholeness, harmony, order, and beauty. This is exactly what the apostle Paul calls us to seek: such peace within us and in our relationships with one another, a peace created only by God.

And the word "edification" describes not a lecture, but nurturing, the increasing of good, of what is good. Here is another astonishing thing connected with God. God Himself is the Good, and He is infinite; therefore in everything connected with the idea of good, the ordinary laws of conservation do not operate, the kind that say, "if something has increased somewhere, then the same amount has decreased somewhere else." When we share something good with another person, love, consolation, knowledge, and so on, the other person gains it, and with us it not only does not decrease, but also increases in some unexpected way. Mutual edification takes place, mutual growth in good, a shared movement toward the true Good, toward God.

In his epistles Paul devotes considerable space to reflections on the role and place of religion in church life. In the early Christian church, one community often contained religious Jews, the "circumcised" or "Jews," and nonreligious representatives of other peoples who inhabited the Roman Empire, the "uncircumcised" or "Gentiles." In that era paganism no longer meant belonging to this or that religion; those called pagans then were people we would today call secular. It is no wonder that conflict was ripening between these two groups within the Church: they were too unlike each other. For a Jew, following all the norms and rules of Judaism was a matter of course; they could not imagine themselves in one community with people for whom religion was a matter of indifference. Meanwhile, most recent pagans who had turned to Christ were exactly like that: they needed Christ, not Judaism. Jews, however, often insisted that the rules of their own religion be observed by everyone, often asserting that without observing them salvation was impossible, because for them these rules were associated with the Torah as such, without which one cannot enter the Kingdom. What was to be done? Recent pagans were just as sincere and wholehearted in their rejection of Judaism, which really was foreign to them, as Jews were in following it, without which they could not imagine life either in the present age or in the age to come. How could these two approaches be combined? Paul himself was convinced that religion as such is not necessary for salvation: neither circumcision nor "works of the Law" save in themselves. But what if without all this, for a person, the Torah is no longer the Torah and the Kingdom is no longer the Kingdom? It was truly pointless to tell such a person that religion was unnecessary; he needed to be given the opportunity to take his religion with him into the Kingdom. But it should not be imposed on someone who could do without it. The decision remained with the person himself. But it had to be conscious and unequivocal: neither playing at religion nor arbitrarily rejecting it was suitable for a full spiritual life. And the apostle offers a simple criterion: if a person's conscience is at peace, then everything is in order with his spiritual life. At that point it no longer matters whether he is religious or not. Neither sincere religiosity nor a sincere refusal of religion harms spiritual life. What harms it is only that uncertainty which makes a person rush about, depriving him of spiritual peace. And Paul calls each person to choose the way of life that is closer to him, imposing nothing on others. To choose sincerely and unequivocally.

Prayer, as the highest form of communion, contains many different components. Somewhat conventionally, we divide them into thanksgiving, praise, and petition. Someone may offer another classification or suggest other types of prayerful speech; here nothing defines anything completely, just as no scheme fully applies to the living current of life. But this is what today's reading reminds us of. The Lord calls us to brevity in prayer, and at first glance this appears to contradict the whole practice of long services and extensive prayer rules. It would contradict them, if not for the words: for your Father knows what you need. That is, when speaking about prayer, the Lord has only petitionary prayer in mind. Why, if He Himself so loves to pray from the Psalter, where there is so much praise and so many other expressions of the spirit of a person's communion with God? It appears to us that this is full of deep meaning and is not accidental at all. We sometimes rank petitionary prayer below the others; it appears to us that asking for something means humiliating ourselves. We are accustomed to relying on ourselves, especially now in today's world, when so much is accessible to human powers. But in reality, and Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh writes about this, petitionary prayer is a very important prayer; perhaps it is even more important than the others, and the text of today's reading reminds us of this. But here is the question: how should we ask, in order to raise petitionary prayer to such a height? The answer to this question is contained in the priceless treasure that is the Lord's Prayer, in which the element of petition is very strong precisely in this highest sense. One recalls Metropolitan Anthony's conversation with an atheist woman. She said that in the Lord's Prayer she could accept everything except the words "and lead us not into temptation" - a sign of weakness, she said. And when we think little of petitionary prayers, we act like that woman. In these moments let us remember the revelation of the apostle Paul: "...for My power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9).

God Himself never forces His mercy on anyone. Even His coming into this world takes place simply as the birth of an earthly Child. If we are called to become like His perfection (Mt 5:48), then our mercy and piety too must be neither showy nor intrusive, but a joyful expression of our hidden relationship with the heavenly Father.

Each of us can recall many examples of how setting aside a small share from the surplus of wealth became a form of self-advertising. One is tempted to speak about such people in the sharpest terms. Much can be said about crumbs that cannot satisfy all who are in need, and about laundering unjust income through showy charity...

But we should also not forget that Christ advises us not only to avoid sounding a trumpet when giving alms, but even tells the right hand to give alms secretly from the left. It is no accident that from ancient times the most honored kind of almsgiving was secret almsgiving, when only the Heavenly Father knew the name of the one who had done the good deed. But even this is not enough, because one can sound a trumpet not only in synagogues or in the streets or on television, but also inside oneself, not always noticeably to others, when we boast to ourselves and take tender delight in our own generosity and virtue. At the same time, we begin to take special pleasure in contrasting our genuine almsgiving with someone else's ostentatious kind.

It is much harder to refrain from that kind of self-admiration, but we must remember it, so that the charity that comes from us does not serve to cultivate pride and self-satisfaction in us.

There are various ways to interpret these well known words. Firstly we can understand them in such a way, that when we give alms with our left hand, we should not calculate how many we have already given before with the right hand. Secondly we can understand in such a way, that the right hand is responsible for receiving, earning money, and when we give alms with our left hand, there is no point to remember how much money we have in total. Thirdly we can also understand these words allegorically: the left hand (from the heart) stands for love, alms; and the right hand stands for righteousness, justice and truth. Then it can be a question of relationship with people here in the general view and not of alms; let love and truth not hinder one another, but complement each other. We have to choose interpretation depending on how we are directed by the Holy Spirit; - you know any reading of the Scripture will be ineffective without Holy Spirit’s guidance.

In the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord Jesus Christ decisively rejects every display of "spirituality for show." In fact, this is precisely what He rebukes the Pharisees for, and this desire to put one's spiritual life on display turns out to be the most characteristic symptom of Pharisaism. The Lord tells His disciples that anything, even the most serious things, such as prayer and almsgiving, loses its meaning if it is done not for God's sake. Reading these words, we can pay attention to our own heart: we must resist Pharisaism first of all in ourselves.

The Lord contrasts Pharisaic ostentatious piety with prayer witnessed by God alone. Praying in secret, communing with God not for show, we find God Himself in an incredible nearness no one could ever have imagined. To be alone with God is an astonishing gift of the New Covenant and an astonishing calling of Christians. When we read Christ's words about almsgiving, about love for neighbors, about service to people, it is important to remember this call to pray to the Father who is in secret. The Lord calls precisely this communion with God alone the rock on which the entire life of a Christian is founded.

In addition, it must be noted that later Byzantine versions of the Gospel add an extra word: "He will reward you openly." In the ancient manuscripts this word is absent. This means that the reward most likely does not consist in visible prosperity, the very thing the Pharisees considered obligatory. It is remarkable and very important that Christ does not say at all what God's answer consists of. For love, this does not matter. The meaning of the answer in love is contained in the answer itself.

The context, in which these words of the Savior are said, is clear: Jesus sharply objects spirituality for show specific to Pharisees (prayer, alms, fasting). Certainly, it is important for us to hear this, because we also – oh as it is not indifferent, whether people notice that we are high-spirituals. But if we step aside a little from this context, then we can see again two typical cases, when these words fall the cap fits.

One case – when we limit our devotional life by situations of common prayer. We promptly attend church services, other prayer meetings, but there is no personal, intimate prayer. We put the church, the community intermediary between God and us, being fenced off from excessive closeness to Him. But indeed intermediaries cannot be in love and excessive closeness cannot be also! Jesus reminds us today of this.

The second variant - is when we are so filled by our personal problems that we perceive any prayerful situation as a reason to lay out at once all these problems to God. Then we don’t listen attentively to worship service when being in Church, we don’t pray together with others, we think only of our own and ask only about our own, breaking down the prayerful unity of the assembly. Jesus’ words turn out to be a hint: There is a place, where to bring all our problems to God – it is our personal, “home” prayer. The church has been created for our communal standing before God.

Continuing the discussion of religion in its relation to the Kingdom, Paul proposes criteria that can guide one in matters of religious obligations. First of all, he draws attention to the fact that in the Kingdom there is, in principle, and can be nothing that is sinful or unclean in itself, since sin and uncleanness cannot be part of the Kingdom by definition. The problem arises when someone living in the Kingdom begins to see sin or uncleanness where there is none; in this case, for the person who sees the situation this way, they can become a reality, making life in the Kingdom problematic for him (v. 14). Of course, if the Kingdom were already now revealed to the world in all its fullness, problems of this kind would only be the problems of separate, specific people. But the Kingdom has not yet fully unfolded; it is only conquering the world, and the former order of things, not yet fully transformed, can influence the minds not only of those seeking the Kingdom, but also of those who have already come into contact with it. Not everyone who has gained the Kingdom is yet so rooted in it that everything connected with the former order of things, including religion, has become spiritually indifferent to him, and this has to be taken into account so that someone does not lose the Kingdom simply because those living near him did not consider it necessary to take his weakness into account (vv. 15-16).

The problem of religion here, as we can see, is no longer connected with the spiritual content of religiosity as such, but with its effect on the souls of those seeking the Kingdom and those who have only just gained it (v. 13). But there is also another criterion that allows one to be convinced of one's own sincerity before God. This concerns doubts that can appear quite naturally in someone who does not follow generally accepted religious norms. And here the apostle is quite categorical: if there is even the slightest doubt about one's rightness, then this is precisely a violation of the norm, not the freedom proper to those living in the Kingdom (vv. 21-22).

Indeed, generally accepted norms can simply be violated without regard for them, or one can be above them. But the experience of the Kingdom excludes doubt, and if doubts still appear, then one can say with confidence that what is at issue is precisely a violation of the norm. But since the person living in the Kingdom does not ignore generally accepted religious norms and rules, but simply feels completely free where religion is concerned, it is not difficult for him to follow them for the spiritual benefit of his neighbor. The main task in relations with one's neighbor for those living in the Kingdom is the preservation of that peace and joy without which there is no Kingdom, not the struggle against religiosity as such. That is why it is not difficult for them to follow religious norms and rules if doing so makes life easier for their neighbor (vv. 17-21).

“Blessed is the one who does not condemn himself for what he approves.” To condemn oneself is to fail to carry out what we undertake before God. Not to condemn ourselves in our choice means not looking back or indulging in fantasies, not wondering, “What would have happened if...?” It is the habit of walking directly before God in the secret of the heart. It is the ability to live patiently and not envy those who live differently. Sometimes we look at people who do not keep the fast and think that their lives are easier, more cheerful, and simpler. We retreat from our choice of Christ. Through doubt and fantasy, we let deceit and distrust of God into our lives.

Every action must have a definite goal, and more than that, this goal is reached: the one who loves for show, in order to earn respect and honor, easily reaches his goal - he "has already received his reward." But the one who loves in secret, even from himself, so much that his "left hand does not know" about it, that is, inwardly, in the depth of the heart where even a person's own consciousness does not always penetrate, all the more receives "repayment," that is, reaches his goal.

And it seems that the Gospel, the good news, consists precisely in this promise that the goal will be reached, even if our left hand never finds out about it. Christ promises that compassion, participation in another person's life, will reach that person's heart, that the one who seeks God will manage to be alone with Him in his closet, behind a closed door.

The logic of the Sermon on the Mount continues here: the logic of interiorization, of moving spiritual life from the outside inward. True relationships with God do not consist in performing certain actions, but in the inner motivation for those actions. Best of all is when these actions become so inwardly natural to us that we ourselves no longer notice their motives. It is no accident that the words, "your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you openly," are repeated here like a refrain.

Almsgiving that is unnoticed from the outside, prayer without many words and without onlookers: these are elements of that naturalness. And Jesus Himself shows an example of such naturalness: the prayer "Our Father," born right here and now, which became the standard for Christians of every generation.

And it begins with the word most natural for the Son as He turns to the Father: "Abba," which would best be translated not as "Father" and not even as "Papa," but as "Daddy"; it is such a childlike and tender form of address.

Just as He rejects ostentatious almsgiving, Christ rejects demonstrative prayer and tells those who pray to shut themselves in their room. Does this mean that any prayer in the presence of other people falls under His disapproval?

Such a conclusion would be hasty, since He Himself prayed in the presence of many people and did not forbid His disciples to do so. Words of disapproval do not and cannot apply to genuine, sincere prayer that directs the soul toward meeting God. It is another matter when religious formalism turns into showy piety, when public prayer becomes an element of etiquette, deprived of inner fire. Prayer without faith becomes meaningless.

The same is true of many words in prayer. This does not mean that prayer has to be short, but its strength does not depend on its length. Someone compared standing in prayer to shooting a bow, which requires concentration. Prayer may be long, but purposeful; therefore unnecessary words can weaken it, or even destroy it.

From Christ's words that the Heavenly Father sees our needs even before we ask, people often conclude that there is no need to ask Him: He will give anyway. In fact, He does give us much regardless of our requests. But it is sad if we look at Him only as a supplier of gifts while avoiding entering into a relationship with Him that is filled with something greater.

To help us learn this better, Christ gave us the prayer "Our Father" as a model for our prayer. We can repeat its words and meditate on them every day.

Jesus, in essence, makes a revolution in the understanding and practice of prayer. It turns out that God has no need at all of our prayer requests. Moreover, the one who asks also does not need prayer. Someone may object: "Well, everything is clear with God, but people, when they pray, sometimes grasp their needs more clearly by putting them into words, and in a peaceful state become aware of their inner needs - as, generally speaking, their outer needs as well. In the end, prayer often serves precisely as a source of resolve to pursue conscious and clearly defined goals." All of this can be acknowledged as true to some degree, but such inner self-reflection can no longer really be called prayer - rather, meditation with elements of verbalization.

Still, meditation (in the sense of reflection or in the sense of silence) is not such a useless thing. But it too should have as its content not so much our isolated psychic life as the openness of heart and mind toward God and the circumstances of life. And the emphasis here should be placed precisely on God, who gives perspective and space to human life.

Jesus is speaking precisely of prayer as the striving of the whole human being toward God - the Source and Foundation of all. And the only real goal of prayer understood this way is to gain inner sensitivity to the movements of the Spirit, who alone makes people co-workers and like-minded friends of the God revealed in Christ. In that case every Christian man or woman receives the possibility of taking part in building His Kingdom and fulfilling His will, and therefore of realizing his or her calling and gifts, receiving His forgiveness and freedom, and giving them to those near us who are deprived of them.

The first three verses of the "Our Father," the Lord's Prayer, in a sense speak about the same thing - the Kingdom. A kingdom is the King's domain. We ask that our world belong more fully to the King, that there be more of God in it. In the Kingdom the King is glorified, His name is hallowed, people pray to Him and call upon Him to judge. In the Kingdom people do the will of the King and obey Him...

Even when we say these words thoughtfully, not mechanically, we perceive them abstractly because we apply them to the whole world and not to ourselves. But Christ says that His Kingdom is within us. And we can ask while thinking that this Kingdom is to be the Church: I, you, all of us saying these words together. For this, His name must be hallowed in me, in you, in us; I, you, we together must do His will. If after the Eucharist we say these words together in exactly this way, maybe the Kingdom of God will draw near, take up more room in our heart, and become more clearly visible in the Church.