In the same way, the apostles cannot be reproached with breaking the Sabbath out of necessity, for the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath (v. 27).

The Pharisees looked at it quite differently. It is unlikely that they ever seriously thought about the need to perfect the soul first of all, it is unlikely that they saw this as the will of God and the main goal of religion, and hardly considered the provisions of the law as an educational means of religious development. For them, the fulfillment of the law was in itself a means of pleasing God, and, forgetting that God does not accept pleasure from the hands of men, they imagined that by the purely mechanical fulfillment of all the ceremonial precepts they secured for themselves the due mercy and reward. That is why, having fulfilled these instructions, the Pharisee was quite pleased with himself and cared for nothing else. "Have I not done everything, and in what have I gone wrong?" was the usual proverb of the Pharisee. In this way, the rites and regulations of the law acquired the meaning of a kind of magical means, the performance of which was obligatory for a person if he wanted to receive mercy from God. With the Pharisees, man was for the Sabbath, and not the Sabbath for man. He could starve to death if he pleased, but he had to keep the Sabbath ordinances, for otherwise he would incur the wrath of God.

This view of the sacramental meaning of rites has not been outlived even to this day even in Christianity, especially among our Old Believers. There, too, the rites acquired a completely uncharacteristic meaning of self-sufficient means of pleasing God, and therefore were declared immutable and inviolable. "It is prescribed to us: lie so forever and ever," said the first leader of the schism of the Old Believers, Archpriest Avvakum.

But for us, of course, this opinion is unacceptable. Infinitely higher is the view of the Lord, Who considered all the rites and decrees of the external law from the point of view of their benefit for the human soul. In order to clarify this point of view all the more clearly, allow me to make a comparison.

When an architect begins to build a temple, he first of all puts up scaffolding. Without this, the work is impossible: you can lay five to ten tiers of bricks, but this will not work anymore. Scaffolding allows you to build to great heights, and the higher it goes, the higher ladders and worker platforms stretch across the scaffolding. Only when the construction is finished, the scaffolding is removed, and the wondrous building of the temple of God grows before you in all its beauty.

Forests are rituals and rules of external behavior. Their task is to contribute to the education of the soul and the construction of a temple of God in it, which is the main goal of spiritual work.

Are they needed?

It is clear that they are needed, because without them it is impossible to build a church. At best, only the first tier can be brought out, it is impossible to complete the entire building.

Are they changeable?

Again, it is clear that yes. As the development of the path progresses, the external aids must become higher and more complex, adapting themselves to this development. Milk is needed for children, solid food for adults (1 Cor. III, 2).

As the tree grows, it is necessary to lengthen the stick to which it is tied.

But is it enough to confine oneself to the construction of scaffolding, that is, to the fulfillment of external rites and precepts, as the Pharisees limited themselves to?

Of course not. It is pointless to build scaffolding if you do not build a temple. By themselves, they are not needed for anything.

It must be firmly remembered that if the Lord is to be the center of all human life and reign in the human soul, then the first concern of a Christian should be to build in the soul a temple worthy of Him, that is, to purify and prepare, to educate the soul.