Pastor's Corner
400 Years of Silence: God’s Plan
Introduction
Many people begin reading the Gospel of Matthew with great enthusiasm, only to find themselves immediately confronted by a long genealogy of Jesus Christ. They often ask: Why does the New Testament begin this way? Why does the Old Testament seem to end so abruptly, followed by nearly four hundred years of silence before Matthew begins? What happened during those centuries? Were they simply “empty years,” or was God still at work?
The answer is remarkable. Those four hundred years were not a pause in God’s plan but a hidden preparation for the coming of Christ. Understanding this period transforms the way we read the opening chapter of Matthew and reveals why, when “the fullness of time had come” (Galatians 4:4), everything was perfectly prepared for the coming of the Messiah.
Four hundred years—that is how much time passed between the final words of the Old Testament and the opening words of the New. Malachi placed the final period on his scroll, pressed “send,” and it seemed as though God went completely offline. No prophets with burning eyes. No new lines of Scripture. No blazing bushes. No quiet voice from heaven. Just an epic silence.
Yet the very last words God spoke before that silence were a magnificent promise: “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and dreadful day of the Lord comes.” And then… nothing. Four centuries of silence.
When you finally open the Gospel of Matthew, it almost feels as if you fell asleep during a quiet history lecture and woke up in the middle of a cyberpunk movie. What happened?
Roman soldiers are marching through the streets of Jerusalem. King Herod sits on the throne—an Idumean, not even ethnically Jewish. Inside the Temple, heated debates rage between two religious parties that did not even exist in the Old Testament. Synagogues stand on nearly every corner, and somehow the Jewish Scriptures are now being read in Greek. The Bible gives no recap, no “Previously on…” It simply continues the story, assuming you already know what happened.
To be honest, I always considered myself a careful reader of Scripture. Yet for years, like most people, I simply turned the page between the Old and New Testaments without ever asking the obvious question: What happened during those four hundred silent years between Malachi and Matthew?
What Happened During the Four Hundred Silent Years? The Old Testament never even hinted at the existence of these two religious parties. Synagogues now stood on nearly every corner, and, somehow, the Jewish Scriptures were being read in Greek. The Bible does not pause to catch the reader up. There is no “Previously on…” recap. It simply moves forward, assuming you already know the story.
What massive transformation took place while Malachi and Matthew were passing the baton to one another? What exactly happened during those four centuries of silence over Israel?
During those years, four great empires rose, reached the height of their power, and crumbled into dust. And while people thought nothing significant was happening, the world around them was quietly being reshaped into the perfect stage upon which the greatest event in history would soon unfold. Everything had already begun to fall into place.
The Persian Period Persia graciously allowed the Jewish exiles to return home from Babylon and, for the most part, stayed out of their religious affairs. King Cyrus of Persia was remarkably respectful; he even referred to himself as a servant of the God of Israel.
There was, however, one important consequence. The people who returned were no longer the same as the ones who had been taken into exile. Seventy years spent living in a foreign culture do not pass without leaving a mark. Many Jews had simply forgotten their native Hebrew and had adopted Aramaic as their everyday language. Reading the Scriptures in the original Hebrew had become almost like trying to decipher an ancient code.
It was in this setting that the synagogue was born. Unlike the Temple, the synagogue was not a place for sacrifices. It was a local center of learning, where the sacred Scriptures were read aloud and immediately translated into the language ordinary people could understand—the language of farmers, craftsmen, and merchants. Four centuries later, these very synagogues would become the places where Jesus Himself would enter, teach, and proclaim the Kingdom of God in town after town.
Alexander the Great Then a new figure burst onto the stage of history: Alexander the Great—a twenty-year-old young man who, within just thirteen years, conquered nearly the entire known world—from Greece to India—without losing a single battle. While most of us spend our twenties trying to figure out how to cook dinner, Alexander reshaped civilization.
He never destroyed Jerusalem or persecuted the Jews. Instead, he brought something far more powerful than the sword. He brought the Greek language. Within only a few centuries, Greek became the ancient world’s equivalent of English. It was the language of commerce, philosophy, education, and international communication.
Centuries later, Paul would write his letters in Greek. The Evangelists would write their Gospels in Greek. The message of Christ would spread across the Roman world in a language that millions of people already understood. What appeared to be merely a political conquest was, in reality, another piece of God’s hidden preparation for the coming of the Messiah.
The Septuagint In Alexandria, seventy-two Jewish scholars undertook one of the greatest translation projects in history. They translated the Torah and the Prophets into Greek. This translation became known as the Septuagint. For the first time in history, the prophecies concerning the Messiah could be read by any educated person anywhere in the empire—not only by those who had memorized Hebrew from childhood. The words of Isaiah, the Psalms of David, and the promises of the coming Savior were now available in a language that millions of people could understand.
The Rise of Antiochus IV Then came darker days. The local ruler, Antiochus IV Epiphanes—who modestly called himself “the Manifest God,” though many simply considered him insane—stormed into the Temple in Jerusalem. He erected a statue of Zeus inside the Temple and sacrificed a pig upon the altar dedicated to the God of Abraham. Circumcision became punishable by death. Reading the Torah became punishable by death.
The most astonishing part is that the prophet Daniel had described this nightmare in remarkable detail centuries before it ever happened. He spoke of the “abomination of desolation.” Much later, Jesus Himself would refer to that very prophecy. For Christ, the horrifying actions of Antiochus were not merely an episode from Israel’s past—they were a living and vivid warning about what was still to come.
Maccabean Revolt and Hanukkah and just when it seemed that everything was lost, something extraordinary happened. In the small town of Modein, an elderly priest named Mattathias refused to offer a pagan sacrifice when he was ordered to do so. Instead, he struck down the traitor on the spot and fled into the hills with his five sons. Thus began the Maccabean Revolt.
A small band of determined fighters, armed with unwavering faith and righteous zeal, defeated the army of one of the greatest empires of the ancient world. The Temple was purified and dedicated once again. To this day, that victory is remembered in the Jewish feast of Hanukkah. It was during this very feast, centuries later, that Jesus would publicly declare that He is the Son of God (John 10).
But power has a way of corrupting. The descendants of the Maccabees gradually turned the priesthood into a political institution. Positions of spiritual leadership were increasingly treated as prizes to be gained rather than sacred callings to be fulfilled. This would profoundly shape the religious landscape into which Jesus would one day be born.
Religious Parties: Pharisees and Sadducees Against this backdrop, two influential religious groups fully emerged. The Pharisees became the meticulous guardians of the Law—men determined to obey every detail and every tradition with absolute precision. The Sadducees, on the other hand, formed the wealthy Temple aristocracy. They rejected belief in the resurrection of the dead, and these would later be the very men who tried to trap Jesus with questions such as the story of the woman who had seven husbands, mocking the very idea of resurrection.
Roman Intervention and Pompey Meanwhile, the internal political struggles of Judea eventually erupted into civil war. Two rival heirs to the Hasmonean throne fought one another and invited Rome to intervene as the judge. Rome came. But it never left. In 63 B.C., the Roman general Pompey entered Jerusalem. Out of curiosity, he walked directly into the Holy of Holies—the most sacred place on earth, where only the High Priest was permitted to enter, and only once each year after elaborate purification rituals.
Pompey expected to find an impressive idol, as he would have in any pagan temple. Instead, he found an empty room. No statue. No image. Only the invisible presence of the God who cannot be carved into stone or confined within marble. Perplexed, Pompey simply turned around and walked away. From that day forward, however, Israel lived under the authority of Rome.
Herod the Great Rome appointed Herod the Great, an Idumean, as king over Judea. Herod was a political genius—and a paranoid tyrant. Toward the end of his life, his paranoia became so severe that he executed several of his own sons because he suspected them of plotting against him. Ironically, it was Herod who transformed the Temple in Jerusalem into one of the architectural wonders of the ancient world. And it would also be Herod who ordered the massacre of the infants in Bethlehem in an attempt to destroy the newborn Messiah.
The Roman Stage Is Set By the time John the Baptist emerged from the wilderness, the stage had been perfectly prepared. There was now one common language spoken throughout the eastern Mediterranean. The Scriptures had already been translated into that language. Excellent Roman roads connected the cities of the empire. A remarkable degree of peace and stability—maintained by Roman authority—allowed people to travel more freely than ever before. The Jewish nation had spent four hundred years wrestling with the promises concerning the Messiah, learning to interpret the Scriptures and waiting for God’s Anointed One.
The Apostle Paul would later describe this extraordinary moment with one unforgettable expression: “When the fullness of time had come…” (Galatians 4:4). It was not a coincidence. It was not a fortunate chain of historical events. It was the moment when everything had been prepared.
Now go back and read the very first chapter of Matthew. That long genealogy suddenly takes on a completely different meaning. Matthew intentionally traces the family line through the Babylonian exile, as if he is crying out to every reader: The exile, the silence, the empires, the revolts, the occupations—none of these were interruptions in the story of salvation. They were part of God’s work.
God had not taken a vacation during those four hundred silent years. Instead of speaking through prophets, He was shaping empires. He was building roads. He was preparing languages. He was laying the infrastructure upon which the Gospel would one day travel. All of this hidden preparation bore fruit the very moment Christ came into the world.
Pentecost and the Harvest On the day of Pentecost, when the Apostles stepped out to proclaim the risen Christ, Jerusalem was filled with Jews who had come from every corner of the world—from Parthia, Media, Egypt, Rome, Arabia, and many other lands. These people were united by two extraordinary gifts that had been prepared during those four hundred silent years: a common Greek language and the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Scriptures that they had long been reading in their synagogues back home. The road for the Gospel had been prepared long before the Apostles ever took their first step.
Fulfillment of Malachi’s Promise And here is perhaps the most remarkable part. The final promise spoken by Malachi at the very end of the Old Testament remained in force throughout all four hundred years of silence. When Luke opens his Gospel, he introduces John the Baptist with these words: “He will go before the Lord in the spirit and power of Elijah.” God had kept His promise all along. The silence had never meant that God was absent. He had simply been working behind the scenes, preparing history itself for the coming of His Son. God kept His promise through four hundred years of complete silence—and fulfilled it on the very day, at the very moment He had ordained.
A Word for You You, too, have your own “four hundred years.” Perhaps you have been praying far longer than you ever imagined you could endure without an answer. Perhaps there is a door that refuses to open—a job, a relationship, the healing of someone you love, or some other promise that still seems painfully out of reach. You can probably name those unanswered prayers yourself. Sometimes the silence lasts so long that you begin to wonder whether the answer will ever come at all. Eventually, you simply grow tired of waiting.
But remember this one sentence—and if you know someone who is waiting on God in silence, pass it on to them: God’s silence is not God’s absence. It is part of the story. It is the season in which He is building the road before you ever see it. Just as He did during those four hundred silent years before Christ came into the world, He may even now be preparing what you cannot yet see. When His time comes, you will discover that His silence was never empty. It was preparation.
Why Did Moses and Elijah Appear at the Transfiguration?
When we read the Gospel account of the Transfiguration of our Lord, a natural question arises: why did Moses and Elijah appear beside Jesus? Why not Abraham, David, Isaiah, or some other great figure of the Old Testament?
The Gospel tells us that Jesus took Peter, James, and John, led them up a high mountain, and was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun, and His clothes became white as light. Then “Moses and Elijah appeared to them, conversing with Him” (Matthew 17:3).
The most common explanation is that Moses represents the Law, while Elijah represents the Prophets. Moses was the one through whom God gave His commandments to Israel. Elijah was one of the greatest prophets and one of the most zealous defenders of faith in the one true God. Their presence, therefore, shows that the whole Old Testament — the Law and the Prophets — points toward Christ and finds its fulfillment in Him.
But Saint John Chrysostom, in his Homily 56 on the Gospel of Matthew, gives an even deeper explanation.
During the earthly ministry of Jesus, His opponents accused Him of two things. Some said that He was breaking the Law, for example by not observing the Sabbath in the way the scribes demanded. Others accused Him of blasphemy because He called Himself the Son of God and made Himself equal with the Father.
For this reason, Chrysostom explains, Christ brings Moses and Elijah onto the mountain as two of the strongest possible witnesses.
Moses was the lawgiver. Through him the people received the Law that all Israel was expected to obey. Therefore, if Christ had truly been an enemy of the Law, Moses would not have stood beside Him and spoken with Him. Chrysostom argues that Moses would not have honored someone who was trampling upon the Law he himself had received from God and handed on to the people.
The presence of Moses therefore seems to say to the apostles: Christ does not destroy God’s Law and does not stand against it. He is the One toward whom the Law was always leading. He is greater than Moses, because Moses was the servant who delivered the Law, while Christ is the Son and the Lord of the Law.
The same is true of Prophet Elijah.
Elijah was famous for his extraordinary zeal for the glory of God. On Mount Carmel he openly confronted the worship of Baal. He placed the people before a decision: “If the Lord is God, follow him; if Baal, follow him.” After the Lord answered with fire, the biblical account tells of the death of the prophets of Baal by the brook Kishon.
Elijah, therefore, was the last person who would quietly stand beside an impostor, a false prophet, or someone falsely claiming divine authority.
Saint John Chrysostom explains that if Christ were truly opposed to God, or falsely making Himself equal with the Father, Elijah — that passionate defender of God’s honor — would never have stood beside Him or listened to Him.
The presence of Elijah therefore becomes a silent but extremely powerful testimony: Jesus is not an impostor. He is not a false prophet. He is truly the promised Messiah and the Son of God.
Moses and Elijah were two enormous authorities for the Jewish people. One gave the Law. The other passionately defended true faith. And now both stand not above Christ, and not even as equals beside Him, but as servants before the Lord.
This also helps us understand the mistake Peter makes on the mountain. When Peter sees the three of them, he says that he will build three tents: one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. Without realizing it, Peter places Christ on the same level as the two great figures of the Old Testament.
Saint John Chrysostom essentially asks Peter: are you once again placing the Lord on the same level as His servants?
And then the heavenly Father corrects this misunderstanding. From the bright cloud comes the voice: “This is my beloved Son… listen to him.” The Father does not say, “Listen to all three of them.” He does not say, “Here are three equally great teachers.” He points only to Christ: “Listen to Him.” And when the disciples raise their eyes, Moses and Elijah are gone. The Gospel says that they saw “no one else but Jesus alone” (Matthew 17:5–8).
Moses and Elijah have completed their role. The Law and the Prophets have given their testimony. Now the final word belongs to the Son.
The Gospel of Luke gives us another very important detail. Moses and Elijah were speaking with Jesus about His “departure,” which He was going to accomplish in Jerusalem — that is, about His Passion, death, and Resurrection.
This means that the Transfiguration was not an escape from Calvary. Christ revealed His glory precisely before the Cross. Very soon, the apostles would see Him wounded, humiliated, and crucified. Therefore, before that happened, they were allowed to see who He truly is. The One who willingly goes to suffering is not a helpless victim. He is the Lord of glory.
Saint John Chrysostom explains the Father’s words, “Listen to Him,” very concretely: even when Christ speaks about His coming crucifixion, the disciples must not resist Him.
The Cross is not the defeat of God’s plan. It is the road to the Resurrection.
There are also other reasons why Moses and Elijah appear. Both encountered God on a mountain. Both fasted for forty days. Moses died, while Elijah was taken from this earthly life in an extraordinary way. For this reason, they may also represent the dead and the living, showing that Christ is Lord over both life and death.
Chrysostom himself says that Christ demonstrated His authority “over death and over life” by bringing one who had died and one who had not undergone ordinary death.
But the central message remains simple and very powerful. If Christ were a violator of God’s Law, Moses would not stand beside Him. If Christ were an impostor, a false prophet, or an enemy of God, the zealous Elijah would not listen to Him.
Their presence becomes a testimony to the apostles, and through the apostles to the whole Church: Jesus truly is the Messiah, the Son of God, and the Lord. The Law and the Prophets do not contradict Him. They point to Him. They testify to Him. And they stand beneath His authority.
Moses gave the Law. Elijah defended the faith. But the Father said of Christ: “This is my beloved Son… listen to Him.”
This is the central message of the Mount of Transfiguration: Do not remain only with Moses. Do not stop only with the Prophets. Do not place Jesus beside other great religious teachers. See that He is greater than all of them. Because at the end of the vision, the apostles lifted their eyes and saw no one else — only Jesus.
Main Patristic Source Saint John Chrysostom, Homily 56 on the Gospel of Matthew, especially sections 3–5:
10th Sunday after Pentecost
The Fire of the Spirit and the Water of Christ (Mt. 17:14–21)
The miracle is revealed when we look beyond it and read the Gospel as an icon. On one side, Christ with the apostles moves toward the people, open to their needs—an image of the Church that comes to meet us. On the other, a father kneels and begs Christ for his son—an image of the saints who “begot us in Christ” by example and teaching and, having gone to the Lord, unceasingly pray for us who still walk the narrow path, striving to overcome life’s trials. The demon-possessed son is an image of each of us, who often ignite with worldly temptations and, disappointed by failure or sloth, become like water that only fills shapes and then vanishes when they disappear.
Fire and water are given to us as good forces; using them, we can live a good Christian life: burn with the fire of the Holy Spirit and nourish the world with the waters of Baptism, clothing ourselves in Christ.
But this requires prohibition. In Baptism Christ forbids the evil spirit to use our inner fire and water for evil—against spiritual sloth and proud, selfish impulses. Again, and again the evil one tries to take from us the fire of the Spirit and the water of Baptism, turning them into passion and sloth.
Belonging to the Church alone cannot free us from demonic domination. Christ’s disciples need personal faith to cast out the demon of passion and sloth. And faith needs daily nourishment—fasting and prayer. Fasting, as renunciation of pleasure, returns us to our calling to use our ardor for the gifts of the Holy Spirit; prayer, especially the Church’s liturgy, like a precious crystal ewer, gives form to the baptismal water of our life, keeping it from spilling into the soil of this temporal world. In such faith, nourished by fasting and prayer, we will recognize Christ—the Savior of the world—even when the world shows Him as powerless and humiliated, incomprehensible and senseless, crucified on the cross.
9th Sunday after Pentecost
An excerpt from today’s Gospel of Matthew — isn’t it a depiction of the Church and the liturgy? Christ sends the disciples out to the middle of the sea to wait for Him while He dismisses the crowds. He goes up the mountain to be alone, to pray to the Father. He prays to the Father, yet He does not abandon His disciples. He comes to them walking on the water just when the boat — a symbol of the Church — is being tossed by the waves. Today the Lord is invisible to us in the way He once was to His disciples, but we are little different from them. For them and for us Christ remains a mystery — One who may be taken for a ghost or seen by the eyes of faith and become like Him. We encounter Him in the liturgy of the Church: in the person of the priest, in His word, in the sacraments and the prayers of the daily cycle. Many, keeping their eyes fixed on Him, walk to Him across the waves, trusting Him like Peter. Many doubt and sink, but even then, as with Peter, He is ready to reach out a helping hand and rebuke unbelief. He comes across the stormy waves of this world to us, to His frightened disciples. How much we practice our faith — so that we may see Him, recognize Him, step out to meet Him and not begin to drown — depends on us.
Prophet Elijah. Who was he?
Elijah is one of the most prominent and dramatic prophets in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Living in the 9th century BC in the Kingdom of Israel, his very name means "My God is Yahweh." His entire life was a relentless, high-stakes battle to defend monotheism against paganism—specifically the rampant cult of Baal.
The Fire Duel on Mount Carmel
To settle once and for all whose God was real, Elijah challenged 450 prophets of Baal to a spiritual showdown. Both sides built altars with wood and a sacrifice, but with one rule: no lighting fires. Baal’s prophets spent the entire day dancing and screaming to no avail. Elijah then took his turn, ordered his altar to be drenched in water three times until it was completely waterlogged, and prayed. Instantly, fire swept down from heaven, consuming the sacrifice, the wood, the stones, and even licking up the water in the trench.
The Weather Maker
To punish the nation for idol worship, Elijah prayed, and the heavens "shut down." A brutal three-and-a-half-year drought ensued. Only after his massive victory over the prophets of Baal did he pray again, bringing a torrential downpour to end the famine.
Raven Room-Service and Resurrection
While hiding from the king during the drought, Elijah lived by a brook where ravens miraculously brought him bread and meat every morning and evening. Later, he stayed with a poor widow in Zarephath. Her jar of flour and jug of oil never ran dry. When her young son fell ill and died, Elijah prayed over him and brought him back to life—the very first resurrection recorded in the Bible.
The Ultimate Rebel: In religious history, Elijah remains the ultimate symbol of uncompromising faith. He was fearless, regularly speaking truth to power by calling out the corrupt King Ahab and his notorious queen, Jezebel, even when it made him a wanted man.
Rom. 15:1–7 — "We who are strong ought to bear the weaknesses of the weak"
We find it hard to accept our own weaknesses and limitations — let alone those of others. We always want and expect others to act perfectly. But therein lies the danger. We demand perfection from others in places where we ourselves are often far from perfect.
Let us increasingly recognize that none of us is free from frailty and weakness. Yes, we have our strengths, but we also have limits and vulnerabilities. Humbly accept the weaknesses of others, and others will likewise accept our limitations and frailties.
Matt. 9:27–35 — "As Jesus passed on, two blind men followed him, crying, 'Have mercy on us, Son of David!'"
We can imagine the crowd pressing around Christ so tightly that approaching Him was almost impossible. Yet here are two blind men crying out loudly because they wanted to reach the Lord,,asking Him for healing and mercy. It was precisely because of their cry that Jesus healed them.
This passage is very important for us. We ask something of the Lord, we pray, but when we do not receive an immediate answer, we give up. We have a problem — we tell God about it, we pray, we go to church, and then instead of persevering in our request, we stop. The example of these blind men shows persistence, perseverance, even stubbornness in asking. Often God withholds something at first so that we may discover whether we truly desire it and whether we are persistent in our plea. Therefore, with the same determination as these blind men, let us beg the Lord, and He will answer.
The Sin of Being Busy
We live in a world where being busy has somehow become a badge of honor. If your calendar is full, your phone won't stop buzzing, and your to-do list has its own zip code—congratulations! Society says you're successful. But God isn't nearly as impressed.
Here's the irony: we can spend so much time doing things for God that we slowly stop spending time with God.
I think most of us—even priests—have been guilty of this. (Yes, apparently answering "just one more email" is not listed among the Gifts of the Holy Spirit.)
The devil doesn't always tempt us with obvious sins. Sometimes he simply keeps us busy enough that we never slow down to pray, to listen, or to notice the people God has placed right in front of us. Jesus was never in a hurry. He had time to stop for the blind, the sick, the children, and even sinners everyone else avoided. He reminds us that people are never interruptions—they are often the very reason He sent us. So this week, try something radical. Take ten minutes. Put the phone down. Turn off the notifications. Sit quietly with God. The world will survive without you for ten minutes. And who knows? You might discover that the most productive thing you do all day... is absolutely nothing—except being with the One who matters most.
Have a blessed week!
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,
I greet you on this Independence Day — a celebration that, in the American spirit, blends gratitude, courage, and responsibility. Let us remember that true freedom is a gift from God. Through sin we lost our original freedom, and through it came into the world all that assaults human dignity and truth.
Freedom is not “I do whatever I want because I know better.” True freedom is living openly, according to conscience, without hypocrisy, in harmony with the Creator. Yet sometimes it must be defended and upheld — not only physically, but morally, legally, through civic courage and prayer.
When we win freedom by our own efforts, we cherish it more. By contrast, when we are merely consumers of freedom, we did not labor for, it is easily devalued.
My prayer for all of us is that we rightly understand the words FREEDOM and INDEPENDENCE, that we put truth and responsibility into them, and that we exert every effort to possess them in God — in their true, holy sense. It is possible to gain freedom of action and independence from others and at the same time become a captive of evil and enslaved to sin.
May the Lord bless our land, strengthen our hearts in faith, and help us guard freedom in love and truth.
Happy Independence Day! – Fr. Yevhenii Hradil
Apostle Jude, Son of James
The name “Judas” (Jude) was as common among the Jews as “James,” so it is not surprising that, besides the infamous Judas Iscariot, another apostle bore this name. He is called “Jude of James” because he was the brother of James (cf. Luke 6:16). Matthew and Mark list among the Twelve “Thaddaeus” or “Lebbaeus, whose surname was Thaddaeus” (cf. Matthew 10:3; Mark 3:18, RSV-2CE). Most likely these are other names or nicknames of the same apostle Jude. Quite possibly, after the betrayal of Judas Iscariot, the name “Judas” became so painful for Christians that they preferred to call this apostle by another name.
John mentions him only once, and very personally:
“Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, ‘Lord, how is it that you will manifest yourself to us, and not to the world?’ Jesus answered him, ‘If a man loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.’” (John 14:22–23, RSV-2CE) It’s not an easy dialogue. Jude seems to be concerned that the Truth should be revealed to the whole world, not only to a small group of disciples. Jesus answers that something depends not only on Him: each person can either respond to this revelation with love – and thus welcome the Father and the Son into his life – or refuse it.
Sometimes Jude the apostle has been identified with Jude, “the brother of the Lord,” but this is almost certainly not correct. About Jesus people said: “Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon…?” (Mark 6:3, RSV-2CE)
So among Jesus’ relatives there were men with the same names as some of the apostles – but they were different people and, during Jesus’ earthly life, they did not become His disciples. We cannot even say with certainty who wrote the New Testament Letter of Jude. Its author introduces himself simply as: “Jude, a servant of Jesus Christ and brother of James…” (Jude 1:1, RSV-2CE)
Could this be Jude the apostle? Possibly. Could it be another Jude whose brother James was one of Jesus’ relatives? Also possible. The Church has never defined this with absolute clarity.
According to ancient tradition, the apostle Jude preached first in Palestine, then in Arabia, Syria, and Mesopotamia, and later in Armenia, where he was martyred. His tomb is venerated at the Armenian Monastery of St. Thaddeus in the northwest of present‑day Iran.
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Apostle Simon the Canaanite If much is written about Simon Peter in the Gospels, the other apostle named Simon is mentioned only in the general lists of the Twelve Apostles. They call him Simon the Zealot (that is, the Zealous) or the Canaanite (that is, a resident of Canaan, the land of Israel). He probably belonged to those Jews who were determined to fight to overthrow Roman rule and for the freedom of their native land, Canaan. He may have expected that all this would bring the long-awaited Messiah and King of Israel named Jesus — but over time he likely understood that His victory was not political or national in character and concerned all humanity, not just one people. According to tradition, Saint Simon the Apostle preached Christ’s teaching in Judea, Egypt, and the Caucasus, and possibly in Persia. There is also a legend that he visited Britain, which at that time was also part of the Roman Empire. He was executed on the Black Sea coast of the Caucasus and buried in the city of Nicopsis in those regions; however, as often happens, the exact location of the city is disputed. In Abkhazia there is a monastery named for this apostle, and it is believed that this is the place where he ended his earthly life. |
Who Has Less — Is Life Easier?
How joyful we are when we live together, helping one another on life’s journey. How painful when our excess or boundless greed makes life harder for ourselves and others.
It starts slowly. We hesitate to say “No,” or fail to say “Yes” at the right moment. We rush, make poor choices, and chase what others have. Soon we hear ourselves: “I’m exhausted,” “I have too much on my plate,” “I’m always busy.” Life’s calm drifts farther away. Even retirement no longer promises peace.
The world is full of things, yet peace and true enjoyment are rare. Even with much, we want what’s new pushed by ads, comparison, and competition. If you don’t spin like a squirrel on a wheel, you won’t keep up. Do we drive one another into this stress?
Novelty brings brief joy, then new worries. So: does having less make life easier? Often those who live simply find life less exhausting and more fulfilling. Maybe we’ll do less—but with joy. Are we living to be busy? Are our children born to be worn out? We want to ease life for future generations—but what example do we give?
Jesus spoke about food and clothing and warned against idols. If He were here, He’d point to what holds first place in our hearts—the things we constantly think about and live for. Do we really need all we possess for a happy life? How much sits “for someday,” yet steals our attention now?
Jesus asks: “Which of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” Worry blinds us. Years ago, people lived without many of our things and were often calmer.
Look calmly at your busy life. Make room for joy, not only worries. A practical first step: bring order out of chaos. Putting things in place reduces tension; chaos keeps us on edge, order brings peace.
Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you. When life feels chaotic, stop and ask: “Where is God’s Kingdom in my life?” For the believer, it must come first.
There will come a day when you reach into your pocket and your planner is gone. A day you leave and realize you forgot your phone. A day with no cell signal, when you feel cut off. A day your car won’t start, and only a fraction of plans get done. And there will be a day you discover life still goes on, even when others say it has stopped.
You will smile, breathe deeply, and say: life continues.
With pastoral care and blessing.
I want to begin a series of short stories about the apostles, since this Sunday (the second Sunday after Pentecost) focuses on the calling of the first apostles.
Today we start with a general introduction to the Twelve. In the following weeks, on the extra bulletin inserts, you’ll find a brief life of one apostle each Sunday – so that, step by step, we can get to know these very real, very human friends of Jesus more closely – Fr. Eugene
Crowds followed Jesus, especially after they had seen His miracles. Out of these hundreds or even thousands, He chose only twelve men who were not remarkable in any obvious way: not by education, not by profession, not by some special spiritual insight. The evangelists frankly show how much they failed to understand and how often they were absorbed in their own concerns rather than in what Jesus was telling them.
And yet it was precisely these men who were later sent to carry the Gospel to the whole world. Today we know them as the apostles of Christ.
The Greek word apostolos means “messenger” or “envoy.” It could be used for a courier sent with news to another city, or even for an ambassador representing a king. The astonishing thing is that this honorable title was given to very simple people, most of them fishermen from Galilee. And yet they fulfilled the mission entrusted to them – and the world has never been the same since.
Another ancient tradition tells how the apostle Andrew visited Byzantium, the city on whose site Constantinople would later rise. There he is said to have founded a Christian community and ordained as its bishop Stachys, one of the Seventy disciples (cf. Romans 16:9, RSV-2CE). His Life recounts many remarkable healings and even resurrections worked through his prayers in various cities, as well as the fierce persecutions he endured.
After his journey around the Black Sea, Andrew is said to have gone to the capital of the empire, Rome, where his brother Peter was. At that time Rome was ruled by the emperor Nero, and a time of persecution was beginning in which both brothers would meet their deaths. For his preaching, Andrew was crucified in the city of Patras, on the Peloponnese in Greece. According to tradition, he was executed on a cross in the shape of the letter X – hence the “St. Andrew’s cross.” The Life of the saint puts these words on his lips as he approaches his cross:
“O good cross, made beautiful by the body of my Lord upon you, long have I desired and sought you; now you are prepared for my eager soul. Receive me from among men, and restore me to my Master, that He who redeemed me through you may receive me through you.”
For the Christian imagination of the lands of Kyivan Rus’, the figure of St. Andrew also became very dear. The legend of his blessing the hills of Kyiv helped shape a special reverence for him in our region. Not by chance one of the most famous churches in the capital is the baroque St. Andrew’s Church on Andriivskyi Descent, and many parishes in Ukraine – both Orthodox and Greek Catholic – are dedicated to him. In modern Ukraine, the naval ensign also uses the blue St. Andrew’s cross on a white field: the same diagonal cross on which, according to tradition, the apostle was martyred becomes a visible reminder that service and sacrifice belong at the heart of Christian life.
It is interesting to compare this “Andrew’s cross” – a simple X-shaped cross – with the so‑called Byzantine cross, often used by Orthodox and Eastern Catholics, especially in North America. The Byzantine cross usually has three horizontal bars: the upper one for the inscription “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews,” the middle one where Christ’s hands were nailed, and the lower slanted bar symbolizing the footrest – tilted toward the repentant thief and away from the unrepentant one.
So the Andrew’s cross and the Byzantine cross speak different “visual languages,” but about the same mystery. The X‑shaped cross of Andrew emphasizes discipleship carried to the point of following Christ even in the manner of death; the multi‑barred Byzantine cross emphasizes the kingship of Christ, the reality of the Crucifixion, and the judgment and mercy shown even in His dying. Both remind us that the Cross is not just a symbol, but the place where an apostle, a Church, and each believer finds the meaning of his or her life.
The evangelist Luke tells us:
“And when it was day, he called his disciples, and chose from them twelve, whom he named apostles; Simon, whom he named Peter, and Andrew his brother, and James and John, and Philip and Bartholomew, and Matthew, and Thomas, and James the son of Alphaeus, and Simon who was called the Zealot, and Judas the son of James, and Judas Iscariot, who became a traitor.” (Luke 6:13–16, RSV-2CE)
Who were these men – and why them?
Jesus had crowds. After the miracles, everyone wanted to be near Him. And yet, out of hundreds or even thousands, He chose just twelve very ordinary men. No famous rabbis, no scholars, no spiritual “influencers” of their time. Fishermen, a tax collector, a former zealot. The Gospels honestly show how much they misunderstood, how often they argued, thought of themselves, or simply didn’t “get” Jesus.
And still, there is something different about them.
John shows a turning point. After a hard teaching – with no miracles, no “wow effect” – people start walking away. Jesus then turns to the Twelve:
“Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:67–69, RSV-2CE)
Maybe this is what Jesus saw in them: not perfection, but a stubborn hunger for Truth, and a readiness to stay when the show is over. Even Judas was given that chance – his terrible decision came later.
The very word apostolos means “messenger, envoy.” The title you’d give to a royal courier or ambassador. And yet it is pinned, almost shockingly, on Galilean fishermen. Jesus sends them out to preach even before His death and resurrection, when they are clearly not “ready.” They learn on the way. They fail on the way. But they go.
Twelve is no accident either: twelve tribes of Israel, twelve apostles – a sign of a new fullness, a renewed people of God.
When Judas falls away, they replace him by lot with Matthias (cf. Acts 1:15–26). Later, the Lord sends out seventy others (cf. Luke 10:1). Not all of them knew Jesus during His earthly life, but they live and preach in continuity with the first Twelve. Scripture itself tells us little about most of them. For the rest we lean on Tradition and the Lives of the saints. But there is one book that really lets us watch them in action: the Acts of the Apostles.
What were they actually told to do?
“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age.” (Matthew 28:19–20, RSV-2CE)
That is the “mission statement.” But the how comes a bit later:
“But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria and to the end of the earth.”
(Acts 1:8, RSV-2CE)
Key points: They act – but the power is not theirs. The mission spreads in circles: Jerusalem → Judea → Samaria → “the end of the earth”. And one key word: witnesses. Not just “teachers,” not just “preachers.” Witnesses. People whose whole life becomes evidence that Christ is real. The Greek word martys (witness) will soon come to mean “martyr” – someone who would rather die than deny what he has seen.
The apostles preached something the world had never heard before, on a blank page of history. We don’t have that blank page anymore. Christianity is “old news,” wrapped in centuries of art, history, and culture. Sometimes it’s easier to talk about the culture than about Christ. The apostles didn’t have the museum – they only had the message. And a completely new way of living.
They begin not with strategy, but with community. They pray together and actually live together. Then Pentecost happens (cf. Acts 2:1–11). The Spirit comes, and suddenly everyone in Jerusalem hears them speaking in their own languages. Some are moved, some mock them as drunk – but no one can ignore them. Something is happening.
Peter’s first sermon (Acts 2) is short and laser-focused. He starts with prophecy (cf. Acts 2:16–21), then goes straight to Christ’s death and resurrection (cf. Acts 2:22–36). He does not start with rules, customs, or even “how to join our group.” The apostles are like a clear window: you see through them to Christ.
The result? “So those who received his word were baptized, and there were added that day about three thousand souls. And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” (Acts 2:41–42, RSV-2CE)
And then this: “And all who believed were together and had all things in common.” (Acts 2:44, RSV-2CE)
No one had seen a community like this: shared prayer, shared table, shared possessions, daily care for the poor (cf. Acts 2:45; 4:32–35; 6:1–6). Deacons are created not as “mini-priests,” but as men dedicated to this concrete service (cf. Acts 6:1–6).
Words alone would not have been enough. The apostles back up every word with a new kind of life. That is what makes the authorities nervous. They try to silence them: “Believe what you want, just stop talking about Jesus” (cf. Acts 4:17–18; 5:27–28). The answer is simple:
“We must obey God rather than men.” (Acts 5:29, RSV-2CE)
Persecution follows: arrests, floggings, executions (cf. Acts 8:1–4; 12:1–5). The apostles are scattered – and with them, the Gospel spreads. One of their fiercest enemies, Saul, becomes Paul, the tireless missionary (cf. Acts 9:1–22; 13:9).
So who were they, really? Not heroes who had it all together from the start. Not saints carved in stone. They were flawed, stubborn, often slow to understand – but willing to stay, to be taught, to be sent, and finally, to witness with their lives.
The real question that remains is not just who they were, but: Am I willing to let Christ do with me what He did with them?
Andrew the First-Called
Andrew and Simon (better known to us as Peter) were brothers and Galilean fishermen. Simon was probably the older one, but Andrew was the first to meet Jesus – not only between the two of them, but among all the Twelve. That is why he is called “the First-Called.” It is striking that, unlike his brother, he had a Greek name, which means “manly” or “brave.” That was typical of Galilee: the native Jewish culture there was heavily mixed with pagan Hellenistic influence, and for that reason the strict religious leaders in Jerusalem tended to look down on Galileans with suspicion.
Beyond this, the Gospels tell us very little about Andrew, as about most of the Twelve. It is Andrew who points out to Christ the boy with five loaves and two fish, which are then miraculously multiplied to feed the crowd (cf. John 6:8–9, RSV-2CE). Together with Philip he brings some Greeks to Jesus – and this is the only such episode we know of (cf. John 12:20–22, RSV-2CE).
For his missionary work Andrew was entrusted, according to tradition, with the lands along the shore of the Pontus Euxinus – the Black Sea. Its coasts (including what is now Crimea) then formed part of the “civilized world,” that is, the Roman Empire, while farther north, in the steppe regions, lived the “barbarians” known as Scythians. How far north the apostle actually travelled we do not know for certain. A relatively late tradition says that he sailed up the Dnipro River, blessed the place where the city of Kyiv would later be founded, and even reached as far as the lands around Novgorod, where he was astonished by the local bathhouses. Most likely this is a pious legend: early sources say nothing about such a northern journey, it left no clear traces, and it is hard to imagine such a trip in the first century. Yet we can still say that Andrew was the first to carry the Gospel “in our direction.” It is quite plausible that he visited Chersonesus – the site of modern-day Sevastopol.
How to Overcome Depression?
Depression is one of the major problems of our time. What is worst is that each year more and more people fall into this painful condition. Some suffer from depression from time to time, while others live in a depressed state constantly. No one is immune — not even the saints. One illustrative example is Elijah.
Elijah was a great prophet of God. For three years he proclaimed God’s will to the Israelites, performed miracles, and tried to turn the people back to the true God. For this the queen Jezebel, an idolater, hated him. The last straw for her was the miracle on Mount Carmel when fire came down. When Jezebel was told that Elijah had performed this miracle and her prophets were dead, she became so enraged that she sent a messenger to Elijah saying, “May the gods do so to me and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by tomorrow at this time” (1 Kings 19:2). In other words, she was ready to die herself rather than leave Elijah alive.
Elijah, who had preached fearlessly for three years despite persecution, was frightened by these threats and fled to the wilderness. He was so depressed that he wished for death: “It is enough; now, O LORD, take my life; for I am not better than my fathers” (1 Kings 19:3–5).
Do you recognize this kind of depression?
Elijah certainly had all the preconditions for depression — he was physically exhausted and experienced the whole palette of depressive feelings: fear, hurt, guilt, anger, loneliness, and anxiety. But God says, “Elijah was a man with like passions as we are” (James 5:17). He had the same problems, including depression.
The Bible says Elijah was so downcast that life was bitter to him. Why do we bring ourselves to such a state? Sometimes because of hard life circumstances, but more often because of the wrong way of thinking. Scientists have shown that our emotions depend on our thoughts.
If you are set to think negatively, you will feel depressed. Your emotions depend on how you perceive life. If your outlook is negative, you will constantly be in a bad mood.
If you want to get rid of negative emotions, you must change your way of thinking. The Bible says, “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2). To overcome depression, you must change your approach to life. Jesus says, “And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). If you view things from the right perspective, depression will not threaten you. So, to get rid of a bad mood you must change your thinking. Here are some practical ways to do that.
Stay on the right path
Focus on facts, not feelings Why did Elijah fall into depression? Because he departed from the right path and yielded to certain temptations. The first is seen in 1 Kings 19:3–4: “When he saw this, he arose and ran for his life… and he went in and sat under a broom tree, and prayed that he might die, and said, ‘It is enough; now, O LORD, take my life; for I am not better than my fathers.’”
What was his first mistake? We all make it: fixating on our feelings instead of analyzing the facts. In depression we lose the ability to think clearly and begin to be governed by our emotions. Under the influence of his feelings Elijah began to think he was a complete failure — “not better than my fathers.” He concluded he was a failure based on a moment of weakness: fear.
If you take your feelings as the measure of truth — if you rely only on emotions — it leads to nowhere good. Performers, musicians, and athletes often notice that after a show they feel it was a disaster. They understand that this is only how it seems to them; feelings are not facts and can be deceptive.
For example, weeks after our wedding, I once woke and told my wife, “I don’t feel like a married man.” She replied, “So what — that doesn’t change the fact that you are!” Likewise, I may not always feel God’s presence, but that does not mean He has left me. I may not always feel like a Christian, though I remain one. Since our feelings can be deceptive, do not rely on them. Instead seek the truth that sets you free (John 8:32).
Do not compare yourself with others The second mistake Elijah made is in his prayer: “It is enough; now, O LORD, take my life; for I am not better than my fathers” (1 Kings 19:4). Another cause of depression is comparing yourself with others. Many of us think that if we were like someone else, we would already be happy.
When we compare ourselves with others, we set ourselves up for trouble. The Bible calls this unwise and harmful (see 2 Corinthians 10:12). First, you cannot fairly compare yourself with others because every person is unique. If you consider yourself worse than others, depression is not far off. Second, our comparisons are biased — we do not know others completely. We tend to compare our weaknesses with others’ strengths, forgetting they also have failings. When comparisons go against us we begin to blame ourselves and suffer. Self-criticism can be useful, but only in measure. Acknowledge your imperfections and be yourself — that is what God asks of you.
Do not carry the world’s sins on your shoulders The third mistake Elijah made was blaming himself for what was not his fault. He said, “I have been very zealous for the LORD God of hosts; for the children of Israel have forsaken Your covenant, torn down Your altars, and killed Your prophets with the sword” (1 Kings 19:10). In other words: “I worked hard for three years, but they did not repent. I tried so much, and they didn’t change.”
By taking responsibility for an entire nation, Elijah burdened himself too heavily. He created an unnecessary problem. If you do the same, you will always be depressed. You bring it upon yourself when you blame yourself for others’ sins and take on responsibility God never intended for you.
If you habitually help others, you will eventually discover people who do not always appreciate it. You cannot predict how your children, friends, spouse, or coworkers will react. People are different, so you cannot take responsibility for their choices. You can influence them, but you cannot decide for them. Such an unbearable burden only depresses you. Accept that you cannot make decisions for others. You may help, but the final choice is theirs. Do not be distressed by what you cannot change.
Do not make a mountain out of a molehill The fourth mistake Elijah made was exaggerating the negative. He said, “I alone am left; and they seek my life to take it away” (1 Kings 19:10). Under Jezebel’s threats he began to think everyone was against him. In fact, this was not true — had Elijah thought clearly instead of dwelling on his feelings, he would have seen that no one intended to kill him. If Jezebel really wanted him dead, she would have acted without warning!
It was not in Jezebel’s interest to kill Elijah. She knew his influence over the people; killing him would have made him a martyr and might have provoked uprising. She also likely feared God’s judgment for killing His prophet. Therefore, she allowed Elijah to flee into the wilderness; she did not truly intend to kill him. She wanted to make him look like a coward before the people.
But Elijah did not think this through. He simply ran away. He believed he was alone, though the Bible says seven thousand in Israel had not bowed to Baal (1 Kings 19:18). When we are depressed, we behave like Elijah. We magnify our difficulties and think all is lost.
When everything seems so bad we begin to humiliate ourselves. When we fail, we call ourselves losers; when we stumble, we call ourselves clumsy; when we overeat, we call ourselves pigs. By demeaning ourselves we worsen the problem and lose the desire to correct things. Do not do this.
How frequently should I go to CONFESSION?
The answer to this question is interrelated with the similar question---how frequently should we receive Holy Communion? The goal and purpose of the Christian life is to be united with the Lord, which can occur only as we become increasingly like Him, little by little. Therefore, since being united with Him in Holy Communion and overcoming our sins by frequent Holy Confession are very effective means (within a life daily prayer) of moving towards this goal of the spiritual life, ideally we should receive Holy Communion at every Divine Liturgy and go to Confession frequently. Let me ask you this question: How often do you see your doctor? Once a year… More often than that… If you are suffering from a physical illness you visit your doctor on more regular bases. Therefore in order to heal our souls and bodies we are to go to Confession on more regular bases. As a child I remember the practice of so-called “First Fridays' ', which encouraged the faithful to go to Confession on monthly bases. What we witness nowadays is the tendency to receive Holy Communion more frequently, but often without the adequate preparation that includes frequent Holy Confession. It is fairly common today that if a person receives Holy Communion every week, it is considered acceptable that they go to Confession just during the two penitential seasons (Philip’s Fast-Advent and Great Fast-Lent). We must remember that our sins make us sick in our souls (and sometimes bodies). Therefore, we need to visit our spiritual physician (our Father Confessor) and receive the “Medicine of Immortality” as frequently as possible, if we are to have any hope of overcoming our sins and receiving healing of our sin-sick souls and bodies. Let us strive to do the most possible to be united more fully with the Lord, rather than to settle for the least we can get by with. It is virtually impossible to love the Lord too much, or desire to be united with Him too much. Similarly, it is virtually impossible to receive Christ's Body and Blood too often, or to go to Confession too often, as long as we participate in these Holy Mysteries with sincere prayer and preparation.
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