NOTES for Act 7:51-60

Stephen denounces them, and his accusers can no longer restrain themselves and rush at him. Did Stephen go too far? Would it have been better to preach more gently, without wounding anyone's pride? Then, perhaps, he would have remained alive and converted someone...

But a "softened" sermon would have become anything at all except a call to salvation, except speech about life and death. A moment has come when absolute directness is required, along with readiness to bear witness in blood to faithfulness to the words and to the Word. Stephen could not renounce what he knew to be the Truth. His witness about the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God was no metaphor; people do not give their lives for metaphors.

If at least an imitation of justice was observed in the execution of Christ, now the accusers do not even pretend to observe the law. Legal formalities are thrown aside, and mob justice is carried out, a killing without trial. These people, who did not love the Romans but got along with them perfectly well, eagerly violate the Roman ban on issuing death sentences. Stephen, however, was killed without any sentence being issued, so the letter of the ban was not violated.

And here we see Saul for the first time, a zealot for the law who is guided not by the law but by his own hatred. He still has to see that hatred is not in fact higher than the law...

During the first three days after Christmas, we remember three different ways of confessing Christ and giving ourselves to Him. First we remember St. Stephen. He is the clearest example of how we should conduct ourselves if we are to be consistent in our choice and our trust in God. Stephen was one of those who were faithful in little, and therefore much was entrusted to him. He worked, preached, and bore witness to Christ through deeds and miracles. To work for Jesus, to take responsibility for what you do and for the people entrusted to you—this is the disciple's and brother's first and simplest path. Each person has a different measure of work along this path, and Stephen, a man who carried out his work to the end, who did not retreat a single step and gave his life for Jesus, is an example and helper to us all on this path.

On the first day after Christmas, the Church celebrates the feast of Saint Stephen, the first martyr. It is no accident that his feast is the first after Christmas. Stephen was the first to follow the path of Jesus all the way to the end—to death. It is the path of complete self-giving, of complete self-forgetfulness. And look at what happens when Stephen speaks of his vision. Those around him stop their ears. Surely this is not merely the pious desire of devout traditionalists to protect their ears from what they regard as blasphemy. They sense an unknown power in Stephen's words. Those words could change something in their hearts... and so they stop their ears and stop him—in the only way they know how.

For us, perhaps, it is important to reflect on our own response to a word addressed to us. Do we not sometimes feel a powerful urge to stop our ears?

What really happened? A man, pronouncing a long speech on Israel’s history, goes into ecstasy, has a vision and tells it. It would seem like what of special, are there not different visions? But the consequences are more tragic: it is particularly after these words about vision that people will fall on Stephen to kill him! What so repugnant did he say?

Stephen speaks of Israel’s way, how this way leads to the coming of the Messiah - everything is normal; when he accuses the spiritual leaders of the people of murdering the Just One, they gnashed teeth, but there is still no crime here. And everything goes to the fact that he should be released. But at that same moment Stephen is being full with Holy Ghost, Who doesn’t only open a wonderful vision to him, but also incites him to testimony about it {the vision}. Calling Jesus Just one, or even Messiah isn’t a crime, but an expression of opinion, while saying that you see Him in the heavens on the right hand of the Father is either truth, either blasphemy. The Holy Spirit doesn’t put up with the incompleteness of choice of the members of the Sanhedrin, quite as He doesn’t put up with our indecision; - He puts people then and now in front of the necessity of giving a concrete and unambiguous answer to the question: Who is a Jesus for me?

In today's Gospel reading we can see behavior that is natural and common to all people. The crowd, having satisfied its hunger and listening to the Lord's words about the bread of God "which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world," quite understandably asks that this bread never run out. And all the more so if this is the bread that "gives life to the world"! How much this resembles Jesus' meeting with the Samaritan woman (see John 4:5-30). When this woman hears about water that satisfies thirst so that a person will never thirst, she asks Jesus, "Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water."

How alike we human beings are in our desires. When we hear about something miraculous, we want to get hold of it, to have a direct relationship to it, especially when it promises direct benefit. In this way, in any person one can find this thirst for miraculous bread and water that give life. And in both cases the Lord says strange words: that He Himself is the bread in one case and the water in the other. It is precisely the unexpectedness of these words and their meaning that can lead a person to another, deeper level.

A very interesting conversation takes place in today's Gospel reading. Jesus says that the true bread from heaven is not the manna that Moses gave the Jews in the wilderness, but He Himself, Jesus. It is perfectly clear that none of His listeners understands Him. The sacrament of the Eucharist has not yet been mentioned. Jesus gives no precise explanation of why or how He is bread. He simply proclaims the truth and gives people the opportunity to engage with this truth themselves. He is not afraid that He will be misunderstood—although, of course, no one could possibly understand Him at that moment. Jesus' word is simply placed in the heart, sown like a seed. In due time it will bear fruit. This is probably important for us: even if we do not understand something in the Gospel, one day His words will become clear to us. Even if the person with whom we are speaking does not understand what we say about God, if that person wants to listen, it makes sense to speak, praying that His word will later be revealed in the heart.

Different people perceived Jesus Himself, and everything connected with Him, in different ways. But He Himself always spoke of only one thing: the Kingdom He had brought into the world. He knows that He has nothing else, and no other task stands before Him except making the Kingdom accessible to everyone who seeks. By calling Himself the "bread of life," Jesus wants to convey to His listeners a simple thought, yet one that cannot fit into their consciousness: He has brought them the fullness of life. Not temporal life, which is here today and gone tomorrow, but true life, the life that has no end because it has no beginning either, abiding wholly in God and being revealed in His Kingdom. As we can see, those listening to Jesus do not understand at all how such life can exist. Separate, concrete manifestations of this life are more familiar and understandable to them.

Manna, for example: here everything is more or less clear. God worked a miracle by His power, and a certain (in general, small) part of the life now being opened to the world in fullness turned out to be connected with this manna. Jesus, however, speaks not of a part but of the whole. But here a misunderstanding arises: this whole is inaccessible to an ordinary earthly gaze. It is invisible to it. Manna is simpler: there is something visible to everyone, and this visible thing changes its properties in such a way that the effect of the invisible becomes completely undeniable. But the fullness of the life of the Kingdom turns out to be completely inaccessible to physical sight.

Something else is needed here: the will. It is the will that determines a person's spiritual life and spiritual condition. And only by the will can one see and experience that fullness of the life of the Kingdom of which Jesus speaks. But this is precisely what His listeners are completely unprepared for. They want something external. They want signs, preferably supernatural ones, that would serve as proof that Jesus truly is the Messiah. And from the Messiah they expect, above all, miracles like feeding thousands of people with a couple of loaves. Miracles that would change their life, but not radically. And certainly would not change them themselves.

Therefore they do not need the Kingdom. After all, one cannot enter the Kingdom so simply; here one will have to change, and seriously. But those listening to Jesus want to enter the Messiah's Kingdom without radically changing anything in themselves. Therefore they do not need the fullness of life either. What use is it if, in their present condition, most of those listening cannot even see it? Manna is better here. Better still is miraculous bread, enough for everyone, and free. But this is not the Kingdom that the Savior brought into the world. It does not save. And it does not give true life.

Stephen reminds those gathered of the historical path traveled by the people led by God, but he focuses attention on those episodes when the people rebelled against His will, rejected or failed to understand the prophets whom the Lord sent. There could have been more examples, but those Stephen mentioned were enough to bring his listeners right up to the thought that belonging to the tradition alone does not automatically ensure following the faithful course and does not guarantee obedience to God's will.

One can memorize many things; one can understand ritual prescriptions well and even be fluent in the text of Scripture. But if the heart proves closed, it is very easy not to recognize the One whom one supposedly awaited and on whom, as it seemed, one had placed all hope.

How does Jesus Himself understand the tasks before Him? First of all, it is striking that He does not try to formulate any tasks on His own at all. At first glance, the One who contained in Himself all the fullness of God could have been much more decisive, especially considering the decisiveness with which ordinary people sometimes formulate the goals and tasks of their service to God. But Jesus, being the Messiah, sees the meaning of His messianic ministry in having no goals of His own and setting no tasks of His own before Himself. He relies entirely on the will of the Father, and He has no works of His own. And the Father, as it appears, sets before Him one main task, to which everything else is subordinated: to save as many people as possible. This is not about Judgment, not about condemning some and justifying others. Of course, a person's sins hinder his salvation. But, as it appears, even the righteous cannot count on salvation without the help of the Messiah sent by God into the world.

As in any rescue operation, only the rescue of each and every person can be considered complete success. But there are, it appears, certain obstacles that can hinder complete success. The sins a person commits are one such obstacle. There may be others, but they appear to depend little or not at all on the person. But the measure of sin that complicates the rescue operation depends first of all on the person. And this is no surprise: salvation is evidently connected with the possibility of entering the Kingdom, the door to which Jesus opens.

In its present state the world is doomed, and only the one who manages to enter the Kingdom and become part of it can be saved. Here the question of sin and righteousness becomes decisive, for any sin inevitably becomes an obstacle for a person on the way into the Kingdom. But Jesus allows, of course with the Father's consent, everyone to begin again, with a clean slate, making one more attempt to start life over. On one condition: this attempt will be made not in the fallen world, but in the Kingdom. Then, freed from the undivided power that sin has over fallen man, each person can try to begin a new life in the full sense of the word.

"The one who comes to Me I will never cast out." Why do these words give hope? Because we know who comes to Him. Sooner or later, of course, everyone will come, and this in itself already gives encouragement. But we know that among the disciples there was no one truly worthy of his Teacher. Even the closest ones failed to understand much until the very end. Only some "outsiders" understood that Christ was incomparably greater than they were, and yet they came to Him humbly. For example, the father of the demon-possessed boy says to Jesus, "I believe; Lord, help my unbelief" (Mark 9:24). Or the centurion: "Lord, I am not worthy to have You come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed" (Matt. 8:8).

And the Lord truly received them and answered the deepest desires and questions of the heart. He does not merely refrain from casting out those who come. He shows them the way and walks that way Himself. He is the good Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep (see John 10:11). He takes us in His arms and carries us against His breast (see Isa. 40:11). He will lead us to the place where we will lack nothing (see Ps. 22:1). He will raise us up on the last day.

In today's Gospel reading Jesus says, "This is the will of the Father who sent Me, that of all He has given Me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up on the last day." These words are an answer to the classic question asked by people outside the Church: "What will happen to my friend if she died unbaptized?" The will of the Heavenly Father is that no one should perish. But there is one important qualification: "of all He has given Me." What is this that the Father has given Jesus? It is those who have received Him into their hearts, those who believe in Him.

Does that mean, then, that all unbelievers are doomed? There is no single clear answer here, but we know one thing: the meeting with God takes place in the deepest part of the human heart. No one will ever be able to determine what this particular person's relationship with God truly is, no one except God, who sees hearts. Only the Lord, who knows hearts, can say how close a person was to God. And the will of the Father is that no one should perish, and so we can hope that even the smallest spark of faith, the smallest openness, may be enough for Him to raise a person on the last day.

Jesus' listeners do not always understand Him rightly: into familiar words, long grown customary, He often puts an entirely new meaning. And often the new meaning He puts into them is entirely unexpected, changing what today we would call the paradigm of thought.

For example, they ask Him about the works of God, meaning approximately what today we would call religious obligations. They ask Him about the works of God in the sense in which teachers of the Torah and learned rabbis often spoke about them: in order to keep the Torah fully, one must fulfill the commandments and, in addition, do this and that. But Jesus speaks about trust, about relationship with Himself, as the main work of God. And no wonder: many of Israel's teachers also saw all religious obligations as a means to establish and strengthen relationship with God, considering precisely this to be the main and only work of God.

And now into the world has come the One on relationship with whom depends the possibility not simply of establishing relationship with God, which was possible before, but of sharing in the life of the Kingdom in all its fullness. Yet they ask Him what additional religious obligations one must take on so that, when the Messiah comes, one will be sure to be among the remnant that meets Him.

The same is true of the bread Jesus speaks about. He speaks to them of that breath of life with which the Kingdom is permeated, and they reply: well, once there were times when God gave our fathers manna in the wilderness; what will You give us? Can You show us something that would become convincing proof of Your words for us?

As one can see, the main problem here is that those asking the questions cannot see the main thing for which Jesus came into the world: the Kingdom. Therefore they ask Him about many things that have no direct relation to the Kingdom. He again and again tries to bring them back to the main thing, for the meaning of His mission is precisely to bring as many people as possible into the life of the Kingdom, so that the history of the Kingdom in the world would not end together with His earthly ministry.

People rushed to find Christ because they had eaten bread and wanted more of it rather than miracles. Yet many of them also regard miracles less as signs that bear witness to a higher truth than as spectacular displays. That is why the words about the bread of life that comes down from heaven and, unlike manna, satisfies more than bodily hunger remain misunderstood.

It is difficult for His listeners to understand Christ, but He continues speaking to them. If so, why does He preach? Is He not sowing His seed to the wind?

No, not to the wind. He is sowing for the future, and days will come when what has been sown begins to sprout in those very hearts that still seem unreceptive. To the age-old question, “What should we do?” Christ gives an unexpected answer, one that many people still find hard to grasp: believe. Not because He rejects deeds, but because, amid our bustle and our attempts to put contrived plans of our own devising into practice, it is all too easy to lose sight of whether what we have planned should be built at all.

Faith, however, gives us a point of reference that helps us act.

Is it not strange that the One who comes from heaven takes care to feed crowds of His listeners and followers with bread? Is that what He came for? And yet the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves for five thousand people is the only miracle described by all the evangelists, and that means it is especially important. It is this miracle that serves as the starting point for the conversation about the true bread by which a person truly lives, the bread of life.

We have heard since childhood that a person does not live by bread alone. But if we try to understand what makes up our spiritual diet, will we find in it what can truly satisfy the heart, rather than a substitute that leaves only a hangover and nausea?

The Lord offers us this kind of bread. It is not teaching, not commandments, not faith in God - the Jews already had all this, and it exists in many spiritual schools and religions. Jesus speaks of the bread that truly comes down from heaven and gives real, eternal life. It is He Himself.

Today's reading helps us better understand what is usually called Jesus' "messianic secret." In speaking of it, people mean the fact that Jesus Himself, until the last days of His earthly ministry, almost never spoke directly about His messiahship, at least not openly. The evangelist's account takes us back to the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves (vv. 1-14). And the reaction to it, as we can see, was an attempt to proclaim Jesus "king," to make Him the leader of a new messianic movement (v. 15). This is no surprise: according to the commonly accepted ideas of that time, the Messiah was to become king, restore an independent Jewish state, and introduce in it laws corresponding to the Torah. But Jesus, of course, was not going to become the leader of any religious-political movement.

But Jesus had another, more important reason to conceal His messiahship. He Himself speaks of it directly to those who went looking for Him in Galilee: most of the people seeking a meeting with Him did so not because they thirsted for the Kingdom, but because they wanted, in time of need, always to be able to receive free bread (v. 26). Jesus, however, speaks with them about eternal life and about the main thing without which one cannot partake of it: trust in the One whom God sent into the world to give people the Kingdom (vv. 27-29).

But they do not understand Him. They ask Him: where are the proofs that Your words are true (v. 30)? And at once they give an example of what proofs would convince them: manna from heaven, as in the days of Moses in the wilderness (v. 31). Jesus again tells them that the Kingdom is greater than any miracle, and that the bread of the Kingdom is more important than manna (vv. 32-33). And again they do not understand Him.

His listeners cannot grasp that with the Savior's coming into the world a new era has begun, and that what happened to them on the shore of Lake Gennesaret was not a miracle in the sense in which manna was a miracle. Simply by being with Jesus, they found themselves in the Kingdom and lived for a while according to its laws, but, as we can see, they did not understand fully what had happened to them. That is why they ask Jesus for bread and expect to receive it just as their fathers once received manna from God (v. 34). And Jesus again and again tries to explain to them that the point is not bread, but the Kingdom and that fullness of God's life which is given there to everyone, so that no manna will be needed there anymore.

A miracle is the Kingdom's invasion of our world, the manifestation of its laws where completely different rules usually operate. But now the Kingdom is entering the world, transforming it, and the times of miracles are passing. The time of the Kingdom is beginning - open to everyone who seeks it and wants to enter.