NOTES for Mat 9:14-17

John's disciples did not seem to realize that by their question they had put themselves on the same level as the Pharisees. Even they found many of their teacher's words and actions hard to understand. And although John's call to repentance surpassed any teaching of the Pharisees, what mattered to his disciples was not so much being changed through repentance as fasting exactly as the Pharisees did, that is, observing the traditional regulations.

Christ's answer gives hope, but at the same time it also causes unease. He justifies the disciples' right not to observe the letter of any regulations by the fact that He Himself is beside them. In essence, He is trying to make clear that rituals have meaning only as a means of communion with God and must not become an end in themselves when He is near. But here Christ also warns that times will inevitably come when He will not be beside the disciples, and then the disciples' outward piety will again become a way of communion with God. The parables Christ speaks here about a patch on an old garment and about pouring new wine into old wineskins are widely known; they have become proverbial sayings. But it is no accident that they were spoken in answer to John's disciples, who had only a vague idea that what Jesus had brought was not simply an interpretation of the ancient commandments by one of the remarkable preachers, but the New Life itself, come from above.

The disciples of John the Baptist do not ask Jesus about fasting by chance: after all, among the Pharisees and among members of other religious brotherhoods, fasting was considered one of the basic religious rules, without the observance of which one could not speak of piety. At the same time, the original meaning of fasting had been thoroughly forgotten: fasting symbolized above all mourning, in particular mourning for dead relatives, as well, however, as mourning connected with events on a national scale.

Of course, in the course of the development of the Yahwistic, and later the Jewish, religious tradition, fasting acquired a new meaning, one connected with spiritual life proper: in religious life, fasting came to be associated with longing for God, with sorrow caused by the feeling of abandonment by God. And, of course, fasting became an expression of the fear and trembling that seize a person awaiting the near judgment of God; such, for example, was the fast of Yom Kippur.

But often in Gospel times fasting became simply a form of religious piety, an element of religious life obligatory for everyone and no longer connected either with concrete events in a person's life or with his spiritual state. This was the case, for example, among the Pharisees, who, judging by what we know of them today, fasted at least two days a week. The especially zealous members of the brotherhood did so even more often, and these fasts were often effectively public: those fasting demonstrated in every possible way their sorrow over their own sins, their fear and trembling before the approaching day of Judgment.

Jesus, however, restores fasting to its true meaning, not a religious meaning but a properly spiritual one. Fasting is not a religious obligation and not a rule of piety; it is the external expression of a particular spiritual state, especially abandonment by God. There is nothing here to imitate and no reason to do so: the time will come when fasting will become something completely natural, but for now there is no need for it, and it is not worth portraying a sorrow that does not exist.

Jesus, of course, does not frame the question this way by chance. After all, He is preparing His disciples and followers for life in the Kingdom. In the Kingdom there is no place for playacting and imitation, even if it is saturated with very important religious meanings. Here there is no longer any need for religion, just as there is no need here for symbols and allegories. Here is life itself, moving according to its own laws.

Today's passage begins, perhaps, with the most personal moment in the Gospel according to Matthew - the moment when Jesus calls Matthew himself. Everything is described very simply: Jesus said to him, "Follow Me," and Matthew got up and, leaving everything, went after Him. Matthew does not describe his inner experiences, but they were certainly there, because at that moment his life was broken into two parts. This is how the Lord builds His Church.

After that Matthew again tells of His preaching of the Kingdom. It turns out that Christ's teaching, while not contradicting the Scripture of the Old Testament, is in constant conflict with legalistic interpretations of that Scripture. Perhaps the key to this conflict is found in verse 13.

Addressing the people, Jesus said that He came “not to abolish the Law but to fulfill it.” At the very least, this must mean that He understands this Law correctly. Yet as we read the Gospel, we repeatedly see Him enter into conflict with the Pharisees, people of special piety, and with the scribes, experts in the Law. Christ Himself explains His conduct with a quotation from the prophet: “I desire mercy and not sacrifice.” Thus, in His understanding, the Law consists in love. For love’s sake, He works on the Sabbath, associates with sinners, and even breaks fasts. The time has come when Law and mercy become one. This means that new content requires a new form, so that the “new wine” does not end up in “old wineskins.” The Gospel cannot be contained within the “only correct” worldview; it requires a readiness for openness, forbearance, and forgiveness. Otherwise, it will burst through our lives and leave us with emptiness and thirst.