Conversations on the Gospel of Mark

But what specks can we talk about? We are afflicted with sores and leprosy from head to toe, as the prophet Isaiah says. All our clothes are dirty. What is there to be careful about?

Not exactly. We lie, for example, but we try not to lie to someone (mother, friend). This is our piece, stolen for the truth from a defiled soul, and we carefully preserve this corner of truth. But the first concession, and the "fence" is broken. Waves of sin will pour through the breach, and soon only a sad memory will remain from the corner of truth.

Beware of petty sins and moral concessions!

The external consequences of minor sins are, for the most part, insignificant, but their influence on the soul of the sinner is very pernicious.

He who humbles the little will fall little by little, says the all-wise son of Sirach (Sir. XIX, 1), that is, he who values little things will gradually fall into decay. "Do not object, how can the spiritual fall? — writes St. Mark in his sermon "On Repentance." When he accepts into himself something small from the realm of sin and does not expel this little from himself by repentance, then, having become rigid in him and developed, it no longer tolerates being alone, but draws him to another, akin to himself, by force, as if by a chain. If a spiritual person enters into a struggle with the evil that has appeared and repels it with prayer, he will remain in his measure of success, losing, however, some of his impassibility to the extent to which addiction to the creeping evil was allowed."

A speck of dust that gets on the eyeball irritates him. Thus is the conscience sensitive to the point of admitting small sins into it. But when they are repeated, the conscience becomes like the stomach of an ostrich, which also carries iron. Conscience can also be compared to a lake that in summer did not hold even a small pebble on its surface, and, having frozen, can withstand carts.

Conscience is the guardian of the soul, at first vigilant, sensitive. But small sins plaster this watchman's eyes and ears. Here is an example of the loss of sensitivity of the heart from a single admission of sin. Alypius, a friend of Augustine, hated the bloody spectacle of gladiator wrestling. But once, at the insistence of a friend, he went to the amphitheater. At first he did not open his eyes in horror and disgust. When the audience clapped with delight, he timidly glanced through. From that time on, he became a lover of bloody spectacles.

Big things start small. Moscow burned down from a small candle. A whole worm destroys an oak, a ship sinks from a small crack. From a sip of vodka, drunk with disgust, they move on to drunkenness. Seldom does anyone begin with gross sins, because conscience is indignant against such sins, but it willingly accepts small ones. Sinful aphids infect the soul gradually. A small thief crept in, unlocked the door to the big one. Both the disease and the fire must be destroyed first. "Learn to conquer the small if you want to conquer the great," teaches John Climacus.

When a Christian, before committing a sin, reassures himself that this is a small sin, then he increases the severity of the sin through this evil calming. Small sins... But they surround us every hour, day by day, year by year. Their name is legion. What joy is there to perish not from one Goliath, but from a multitude of Philistines? The locusts are neither great nor strong, but they bring calamity to the whole country by their multitude.

Attention to detail is usually a measure of a person's personality. This is a kind of barometer of the soul. The higher a person is spiritually, the more sensitive he is to trifles. A Russian writer tells of a man who, having forgotten to say good-bye to occasional companions whom he met on a steamer or in a railway car, sometimes returned half a mile away in order to fulfill this duty of politeness and not to offend people almost unknown to him. The late elder of the Optina Hermitage, Father Ambrose, wept loudly at confession, lamenting that due to physical infirmity he allowed himself to eat an egg: on Wednesday. The Monk Macarius of Egypt, already in extreme old age, still mourned his sin of early childhood, when he secretly ate a pod he had found on the road, dropped by one of his male peers.

Our insensitivity to such sins is a sure indicator of the defilement of the soul. The more attentive a person is to trifles, the higher the degree of moral development he is. A person who is able to offend someone in small things without noticing is unlikely to have cordiality.

In the naming of certain sins as minor, there is a misconception of righteousness, as if expressed in heroic deeds. Righteousness is not heroism, with which, under the influence of the moment, one sacrifices one's life and performs feats of extraordinary bravery. Righteousness is manifested daily in small things, although sometimes it reaches the level of heroism. In general, a righteous life, full of stubborn struggle with trifles, is higher than a major feat or a heroic deed. A hero can be a bad person, but a righteous man is always good. Heroism is often the result of nervous excitement of a momentary impulse; righteousness is a matter of moral conviction and a stubborn, prolonged struggle with oneself. Not to lie, not to condemn, to pity, to forgive, to abstain, to humble oneself – these are the small things in which a disciple of Christ must be faithful. Such is the will of God. Can a violation of this will, even a partial one, be called a minor sin? A counterfeiter is also guilty when he counterfeits a small coin. In a small sin there is sometimes a more criminal will than in a great one.

Chapter XIII, Verses 1-13

The temple in Jerusalem, which was visited by Jesus Christ, was once considered a miracle of architectural art, so that the rabbis of the Jewish people even made up a saying that whoever has not seen this temple does not know what beauty is. This was the third temple in Jerusalem. The first, the magnificent temple of Solomon, was razed to the ground by the Chaldeans when the Jews were taken into Babylonian captivity. The second, built by a handful of poor Jews who had returned from captivity under the leadership of Zerubbabel, was dismantled by Herod, the so-called Great, and in its place a new one was erected, under the arches of this Herod's temple the Savior of the world prayed and taught the people.