The
scandalous commandment
Maybe the most scandalous commandment given by Christ
was the one in connection with the neighbour. “Love the God
with all your soul and your neighbour as yourself. All the Law and
the Prophets hang on these two commandments”. For the modern
man, a lazy and an irresponsible man, this simplification sounds very
encouraging and trifling. But for a Jew this is a real scandal. All
the Jew’s life was a skilful slalom among the multitude of laws
and rules that seemed to determine his salvation. To reduce the life
to two commandments, for some men who used to make themselves a dilemma
whether to eat or not an egg on Saturday, is the same as to order
a woman who is accustomed to change her dresses every time when she
goes out, to put on only a single dress, with the right to wear it
on both sides.
This simplification cost Jesus his live. But a part
of believers adopted the scandalous philosophy and formed a new religion,
a new way to see the world. Because of the name of the scandal’s
initiator, these believers were nicknamed “Christians”.
Yes, those insignificant and illegal groups of that time had the same
name as the so wide-spread Christians of today have. How come they
got so many? Many say this is a divine miracle, a sign that this faith
is true. I, nevertheless, have a big doubt that the things are like
that. I believe that the cause of such a rapid and sure spread of
Christians relies, once again, on the scandalous commandment. Since
this commandment has been put away, the number of Christianity’s
followers increased terribly. In exchange the Christians have today
a lot of other commandments, maybe not fewer than the Jews, commandments
for which, I am sure, if Christ once again came to reduce all of them
to the commandment of love, they would kill Him.
The Christianity is love, the Christianity is also
pain. The Christianity is love resulted from pain. What is this strange
commandment brought by Christ, but pain? What actually means, to love
your neighbour? To buy him a hamburger? To give him some money? Sometimes
this also. But if the pain of your neighbour cannot be relieved neither
with a hamburger nor with money, if it is beyond your power? In fact,
it seems to me that any trouble and any pain are beyond our power.
Then the single thing that we can do for our neighbour is to grieve
for his pain, for the pain of all the world, if it is possible. The
archimandrite Sofronie Saharov, writing to an ill woman whose eight
year old son died, tells this story. “Once I was together with
the St. Siluan and we were looking near our cell from the Saint Mountain
at a small boat caught in the tempest. The panicky people had to choose
whether to remain in the boat and wait until the end of the tempest
or to come with the boat to the shore. Both variants were equally
dangerous. Then one of the monks sighed and said “Ah, how I
grieve for them”. Then St. Siluan said him “If you have
grieved for them, it means they are saved”. Truly, all those
people reached the shore. “I also believe”, the blessed
Sofronie continued his letter, “that the pain in which you are,
will be healed, because I grieve for you”.
How many
of those who are going to church on Sunday, can boast of having this
miracle-making pain in their hearts? I think however, together with
Christ, that this is the single thing we should covet and struggle
for. Maybe the greatest good that we can do to the world is just to
come to the window and look at the street, until our heart will be
fulfilled with this almighty pain. What is the use of it, if anyway
those people do not know anything? Even if we could not change anyone
with this pain of ours, yet we will be of a great use. Even for the
fact that, at least in those moments, we will exempt the world from
our personal evil. And this is a great good that we can do to the
world.
“Timpul”,
25 October 2002
Translated from Romanian by Veronica epistola7@yahoo.com
