Dear friend, dear friends, here we are for another hour of Unseen Passages, another hour of your life that we will spend together. It is an honor that you let me keep you company again. I think about the responsibility, about how serious this moment is. I can see that you take what I say seriously. You weigh it, see your own life reflected in it, work through it, and let it guide your choices. So I ask God to open my nous, my spiritual mind, to enlighten my heart and fill my lips with the Spirit. “I shall open my mouth, and it

shall be filled with the Spirit.” I open my mouth and it is filled. That is what the words mean: filled with the Holy Spirit, with breath, strength, grace, eagerness, and illumination. Then someone can say the words you need to hear at this moment, words that make you think, that edify you, and help you find a little light in the darkness you are living through, in the tunnel you are passing through.

The person speaking to you has darkness of his own. We both kneel—you and I—and together we ask God: “Lord, enlighten our darkness. Shine upon the darkness in our hearts and in our nous, our spiritual minds, and help us understand Your abundant, pure, and clear truth.” God has no difficulty with this; we do. Now, Vasilis Hatzinikolaou is here with us, the musician and sound engineer for the program. Vasilis, welcome back. Thank you for your company and your help. I receive many emails and messages about you, as you do at your personal email address, from people who enjoy our time together and the music you bring to the program. You deserve the congratulations you receive for your many CDs as well.

The program’s email address is Atheata Perasmata at Yahoo dot gr. I receive your letters, messages, gifts, good wishes, observations, and corrections, and I think them over. I read the letters you send, whether you are monks or nuns, married or single, young children or older people. I reflect on them and try to draw on them in what I say. Perhaps I can give you a small hint toward an answer. You will find the answer within yourself, not in something I say on a program. God will enlighten you about your own situation, personally. The same answer does not fit everyone. But what I have to say

is this—and you will see what I mean:

My dear friend, don’t you use your head sometimes? That is what I want to ask you. Can’t you see certain things right in front of you, plain as day? You walk straight into life’s traps, though they are hardly traps when you can see so clearly the mistake you are about to make and go ahead anyway. Don’t you understand? Let me explain what I mean. You tell me you are getting to know a young woman. You are unfailingly polite to her, willing to help, easy to work with, full of kindness. You give her gifts and do things for her. You drive her here and there, pick her up from work, and take her home. Yet she never treats you with kindness or warmth. She never has a kind word for you.

You tell me that when you are talking to her on the phone, she abruptly hangs up. She does not know how to say, “I can’t talk right now.” She simply cuts you off in the middle of a conversation. And still you do everything she wants. When it rains, you pick her up so her shoes won’t get wet. When she is cold, you collect her from the bus stop. When she feels hot, you take her somewhere for a holiday. Whatever she asks of you, what do you do? And what do you get in return? Contempt, a hard heart, insults, abuse, and belittling. If I were in your place, I would make the sign of the Cross and thank God for showing me, before I married, such clear signs that this person is not right for me.

You tell me, “I’m sensitive. I want to hear a kind word. People close to me have never spoken kindly to me, and I hoped the woman I love, the woman I would spend my life with, would say something kind.” You are right to want that. Everyone does. But you need to keep your eyes open. And you do see what is happening. She hangs up on you and insults you. She says, “With ideas like yours, just leave me alone.” Or, “I’m bored now,” and hangs up. And there is much more. Yet you keep going back, pleading with her, again and again. I could understand trying two or three more times, thinking, “Perhaps I got it wrong. Let me try again.” But how many times? Two or three. You have been with someone like this for years, and you have not even married,

nor have you parted ways. You move neither forward nor back. You seem to be dragging yourself through this relationship. Time passes, the years go by, and somehow you grow attached to a person who does not suit you. You are heading toward something that already looks as though it will end in disaster. This relationship does not help you flourish. It does not enrich you, bring you joy, or strengthen you. So why do you continue? You

might ask me, “Why are you getting so upset?” I do get upset, because as a priest I feel the weight of hearing people say, “Tell me what to do. You tell me what I should…” But you are right: why should I get upset? In the end, whatever happens to you is what you deserve. You are the one directing your life. Do not blame God, or priests, or saints, or anyone else. You are making these destructive choices yourself—unless you are someone with a tendency to harm yourself.

Perhaps you see that something hurts you, yet you go toward it and even find something you like in the pain. You decide to keep struggling there. Well, tell me: if you believe that is your fate, your life, the path you are meant to follow, then live it. But looking at it from a distance, I wonder how you still have not understood what is happening.

You cling in an unhealthy way to a situation that is draining every last bit of your strength and vitality. You are withering. This reminds me of a subject we discussed once: whether you had come to regret getting married,

or regretted the path you chose—whether marriage, dedicating your life to God, a profession, monastic life, or anything else. I take this small example as a chance to tell you: be very, very careful when you set out on a path. Life truly is a mystery. You do not know what tomorrow will bring or what your life will be like in five years. I understand that. If you tell me things began well and problems appeared later, I respect that. I understand it.

It can happen to anyone. But if you tell me, “I have had problems from the very beginning, and still I insist on punishing myself, suffering, and hurting,” then I will say, “You are bringing this on yourself.” You keep choosing it. Could it be that deep down you want it? Are you trying to atone for something? Do you believe you deserve punishment and want to receive it over and over? If so, go on. Of course, may your marriage be blessed; may your relationship be blessed. But do not ask me to find some hidden cause for a situation you are helping to create. You understand what is happening. You can see that something is wrong.

The same thing can happen on any path. Some people see a couple who so clearly do not suit each other and ask, “How did the two of you get married? Couldn’t you see?” And the answer is, “We could see, but we kept going, hoping something might change.” This calls for great care. Parents bear a great responsibility when they do not listen to their child’s heart and what their child truly wants. What does your child want? Is it what you want? Does your son want to marry the woman you have chosen? Do you care to find out? Do you care whether your child is happy in reality, rather than only in your imagination?

A parent says, “I brought them together. I made a good match. They are a wonderful couple.” Before the young people have even met, the boy’s or girl’s mother goes up to the other parent and says, “How are you, my fellow in-law?” “What do you mean, in-law? The children haven’t even met!” “Oh, but I’ve planned it all beautifully.” You have planned it beautifully in your own mind. You can already see the grandchildren. But do the young people love each other? Do they suit each other? Is this what they want? We press and push until the other person is faced with a decision already made: “This is happening. That’s settled.” A mother once told me, “But we found a doctor! You don’t find a doctor easily.” I said, “You mean a doctor to examine you?” “No, for my daughter. She is going to marry a doctor. That’s a great thing.” Yes, but is finding a doctor enough? Your daughter is not looking for a doctor to treat her. She is looking for the person she can share a life with, the person she can wake up beside each morning and feel glad to see.

What does it mean to be well suited to someone? It means spending time with someone and feeling the hours pass without even noticing the clock. It is five in the afternoon, and the next time I look, it is half past ten. I think, “How did five and a half hours go by? It felt like a minute.” In those hours we talked happily, misunderstood each other, even argued, and still we were right for each other. Being well suited does not mean we always agree or never argue. It means that beneath it all, something makes me want to be with you. Even when we argue, we find tenderness with each other, and the argument can bring us closer. That is a great thing!

Being well suited: the chemistry and harmony between two people. It does not mean thinking alike or holding identical opinions. We may disagree, but there is something in the way we are together that binds us. We enjoy each other’s company. I even want to argue with you. That is what it means to be with someone who suits you: to find a person with whom I can disagree, make peace, and still feel at home. We find our way back to each other afterward. Our arguments do not make us say, “The glass is slowly cracking.” Instead, we can say, “We have been through so much together. We argued, made up, and loved each other, and it all brought us closer.” Other couples argue and then feel a coldness that lasts for days. They argue and feel a distance,

an estrangement. A woman left me a message on my answering machine at home. “Please pray for us,” she said. “My husband and I live together, but we are strangers to each other.” That is what I mean when I say two people are not well suited. You have shared so much with someone. You have had children together, eaten, slept, embraced, worked, and traveled together. You have lived through it all, and yet you feel like strangers.

When you are starting out, open your eyes. And at some point close them too and pray. Close your eyes and ask yourself: What do I want? What am I looking for? Whom do I want? What do I like about this person, and why? Picture yourself with them years from now. Will we be happy together? I do not mean tomorrow. What about three years from now, or five, ten, twenty? Will we make peace after disagreements, or will we keep fighting and hurting each other? I say again: if you marry and things are good at first, but these troubles arise later, you bear them. But if you see them before you even begin, the

same care is needed for a young woman or man setting out to dedicate their life to God and choosing the monastic path: monasticism, a monastery, the Holy Mountain, somewhere abroad or in Greece, anywhere. Let me tell you why I say this. I have a stack of letters signed with people’s names, though I would never reveal them. I speak of them anonymously. What they describe can make you rub your eyes and tear your hair out, wondering, “Why did all this happen? How did it come to this?” But I also want to ask: “My dear child, Father, sister, nun, monk, did you not see these things when you began? Were there no signs? Why did you go there? Did you go for the sake of particular people?” You speak of injustice, insults, being looked down on, selfishness, favoritism, the worship of personalities, and all sorts of things.

Yet these things did not suddenly spring up one day. You could see them, but you were not thinking them through with your reason as well. You need both reason and heart. Reason alone can leave you so frightened and overwhelmed that you never take a step forward. But the heart alone can make everything look beautiful and ideal. You have to think things through too.

You went there because of one person, and when that person left, whether they died, moved away, or had to leave for some other reason, you became ill. So how do you decide where to give your life? What is your life worth? What are you? Are you nothing? Why sacrifice yourself for particular people? Is it for them that you live? Did you go there for this person or that one? You go there for God.

And you must respect what God made with such care, what He protects and loves in such a personal way. What do I mean? Yourself. Respect yourself.

Do not hand yourself over just anywhere, in any way, because you are caught up in enthusiasm. And now you are picking up the pieces, and now gathering the wreckage, and now bearing it with patient endurance. Life becomes an uphill struggle, and you endure, endure, weep, and fall ill. Then come the pills, all kinds of pills: whether for an ulcer brought on by pain and sorrow, which aggravate it, for other serious conditions, or psychiatric medicines, which began there too. These are mistakes we pay for. At least let us learn from these mistakes, at least grow up and take the lesson to heart. And if you have learned your lesson, humble yourself.

Make peace with it. Accept it. If something cannot be changed, accept it. What can you do if you are now seventy-five? Can you begin your whole life again from nothing? You accept where you are and try to make this hard part of your life beautiful. Plant a few flowers in it; put out a few pots to bring variety, color, beauty, and fragrance. At seventy-five you may not be able to change your life completely. But if you are twenty-five, thirty, or forty, your life can change. It is in your hands to change it. You can say, “I tried, I made mistakes, I learned, and now, even if it is late, I will do what I can to change.” Some things can change; some cannot. So what do we ask of God? Illumination, so we can discern which path to take. Should I go on as I am, with patient endurance, or change what can be changed and live a better life for as long as I have? I may die tomorrow, but I need not spend the time until then wasting away with sorrow and falling ill. What kind of life is that?

If I die tomorrow, must I spend the time until then worn down by sorrow? Joy is worth seeking and wanting. We should find joy in what we do with our lives rather than live in suffering. And behind the walls of homes, monasteries, factories, and offices—I mean every kind of place; I am speaking generally—there is so much hidden pain. Very few know about it. Sometimes only God knows, and even people who ought to listen and receive that pain do not know. Someone asks, “How can I tell the very people I need to speak to? They will not let me say what I truly feel. When I do speak, they reject me. When I tell them what I feel,”

“I am insulted, and their words come at me again like arrows piercing my soul. No one ever admits that I am right, though I can see that I am.” It is like young people saying, “You cannot convince me I am an elephant. I am not an elephant.” Yet someone insists, “Yes, you are.” Then at last you find even one person who says, “You are right. You are not the one who has lost your mind. Something is wrong here, but it is not with you. The fault lies with the person facing you.” We need to acknowledge that. Humility does not mean saying, “I am the one who has lost my mind.” Humility means saying, “I know I have not, but out of love I will bear this.” That is different. That is a healthy response, and it takes strength and endurance. It helps a person carry on. You can say, “I am not the elephant everyone is trying to convince me I am. But for the sake of patient endurance, I will go on.”

“For the sake of love, I will keep silent.” Yes. But do not drive me out of my mind by insisting everything is my fault and expecting me to accept it, when I can plainly see the injustice before me.

We use words blessed and made holy by the experience of our Saints. They honored those words: obedience, setting aside your own will, sacrificing yourself for another. The Saints spoke from their own holy experience. They first lived these things themselves. They struggled, suffered, and were wounded, until their souls and lives grew gentle; only then did they speak of them to us. We take those same words and use them as clubs, knives, and saws against other people. We say, “Be obedient,” or a husband says, “Do what I tell you. Do what I tell you and obey.” Such words should come from someone who has undergone these trials, suffered himself, and can understand the other person.

What does it mean to tell someone, “Do as I say and set aside your own will”? These are difficult, delicate, serious matters. Many souls live through torment and anguish. I remind you again—Vasilis, you are looking at me in surprise. Though perhaps you are not so surprised, because you know many such stories yourself. But I tell you, the pile of letters beside me, which I gradually burn and throw away so no one will ever find and read them, could one day have become an anonymous book about people’s suffering. It would show how someone can be hurt in places where they should have been able to flourish, grow rich in spirit, rejoice, be happy, and leap for joy,

even jump up and down. That is why you marry, why you become a monastic, why you give your life to a path: to know the joy I have just described. Yet for some, these paths become destructive. So I pray to God above all. I am not asking anyone else, because I cannot take responsibility for everyone or help everyone. No one needs me to save their life, and no one has asked me to. I pray to God and say, “Lord, give us all light to make sound decisions, so that we do not look back and say we took the wrong path in life.” Yes, change your life where you can. But where you cannot, how can you change it? What would you leave behind? Your wife, your husband, your children, your monastery, the work to which you have given your life, your years of study? How

could you leave all that? So ask questions and learn. Do not rush. Think it through before you commit. Try it out first.

They have only just met, and their parents want them engaged in two months. If you truly suit each other and both feel it, you could become engaged in two days. But suppose you say, “We do not feel that way,” or one of you says, “I do not feel right about this.” “No, no, you cannot get engaged like that in two months and be married in six.” Fine—and divorced two years later. “No, you must not divorce. Do not say anything. Bear it with patient endurance.” But the young woman has fallen ill, or the young man is beside himself, his mind so badly shaken. He cannot go to work. He has no peace. His blood pressure has risen, though he never had a problem before. His stomach hurts. He has headaches and migraines. That is why I say: think it through. Do not rush into anything you are about to do with your life. A young woman abroad wrote me an email asking, “How will I know whether we suit each other?” You are asking me how you will know? What can I tell you?

You will know. You will feel it: the respect he shows you, the freedom to speak openly with him without fear, the joy your soul feels beside him. I do not just mean wanting to touch or kiss him. You can easily feel that for many people; that desire awakens readily. What matters is that you want

the quality of his character, his way of living, the kind of person he is as a whole. Look for that. Can I tell you what you feel? I do not know. You will have to see for yourself. To me you might look unsuited, while the two of you are wonderfully happy. May you be blessed and have a long life together. You might also look suited to me, in my eyes, and find that you cannot get along. You might say, “Father, I cannot do this, even if you think we are very well suited.” Do you understand? There is no single rule by which we must all measure ourselves to find our path. Each person is a wonder, a unique person. Each has their own path, their own journey, and that is where they flourish.

Once, after a talk, someone said to me, “I like what you’re saying, but is your own situation proper? Is it right for you to be a priest living in the world when you should be in a monastery?” I told him, “You’re right, but that isn’t the only thing in my life that falls outside the usual rules. There are many others. Saint Nektarios of Aegina also lived in the world. He did not enter a monastery as a little boy and stay there forever. He spent many years in Athens, living on his own. Many others have done the same. Some have failed, and some have done well.” I did not say the rest to him, because I did not want to upset him: “Why are you so concerned with what I do, and why should I be concerned with what you do?” What matters is that neither of us looks to the other for approval. What matters is that my soul and my God approve, that deep within me I hear

that approval. And what is approval? It is like a hymn, a song that lifts you up and lets you hear the melody of happiness. I want to hear a joyful melody within me saying, “The life I’m living is beautiful.” Then I sing and whistle and rejoice. I’m happy. You may look at me and say, “But you don’t live within the walls of a monastery! You’re an archimandrite living outside one!” That’s all right, my friend. Why should you decide how I live, or I how you live? I remember a couple: the husband had seven degrees, and he married a woman who had only finished elementary school. Everyone looked at him and said, “Surely he should have married someone with his level of education.” Yet those two were wonderfully happy. He had his doctorates and degrees; she knew how to cook, care for their home, raise their children, and love her husband. She gave him honor, respect,

kindness, and joy. People saw it when the couple invited guests to their home to celebrate their first wedding anniversary. They were radiant with happiness. Someone went up to the husband and said, “Now I understand why you married her. You two really are happy together.” He replied, “What did you think? That I was a fool? That I married her without knowing what I was doing? You say we’re not suited to each other, but what matters is how we feel. I listened to my heart when I chose her, not to what everyone else said. They kept telling me, ‘You deserve someone at your level, an educated woman with at least one degree. You have so many, and she only finished elementary school.’” Happiness has nothing to do with that. We measure happiness within ourselves. Remember that. You will hear its melody in your own heart.

Others may applaud you and say, “Congratulations! What a wonderful wedding!” But the young woman may be saying to herself, “My heart knows the truth. What could I do? It all happened because I felt pressured—by money, by my feelings, by a pregnancy, by the rush to decide, by all sorts of things. This wasn’t what I wanted.” How can that marriage be happy? How can it?

Am I tiring you out, Vasilis? Thank you so much. Your music helps me give this medicine gently. Today what we’re offering sounds like syrup, though it is strong medicine for painful conditions. You make it sweeter. Thank you, Vasilis Hatzinikolaou. And thank you all for the messages and emails you send. I know you have a great deal to say about your lives. All right, look ahead now. What will you do from here? There is little point in only recounting what happened, crying, and wanting more people to tell you that you’re right. I’ll gladly tell you when you are. You deserve to hear it. But once you’ve heard it, what comes next? Let’s say you’re right that your wife is difficult. All right. What shall we do now? Shall the two of us go and cut off her head so you can feel better?

I agree that you’re in the right. But can you live your life on that alone? Is it enough for me to tell you so? Life goes on. Your marriage and your relationships must go on, too. You have to go to your wife and say, “We need to find a way to live together.”

“Someone has heard me and agreed with me, but I still have to go on living with you and loving you.” You cannot go through life holding up your claim to being right and saying, “I’m right, so get out of my way.” Even when you are right, you may have to give up your claim. Of course, it means a great deal to hear someone acknowledge that you’re right. It is a great comfort. You think, “I’m enduring this and struggling, but at least someone understands.” A man told me, “I met an elder on the Holy Mountain. He wept with me and said, ‘My child, how have you endured so many years with such a difficult family? Well done. You’re a hero.’ I went home with renewed courage to keep trying. At least one person understood me and told me I wasn’t an elephant.” That is the image I used earlier. Everyone was trying to make me think I was crazy because they didn’t know the whole truth. They didn’t understand.

“But I won’t use what that elder on the Holy Mountain told me to hurt my wife,” the man said. Some people do exactly that. They ask, “Tell me I’m right. Admit it.” Then they go home and say, “I was told I’m right! Even an elder on the Holy Mountain agreed with me. When I told him what I’ve suffered with you, he said, ‘You have a wife like that? There’s something wrong with her!’” Is that what you want—to be told you’re right so you can wound your wife? Or should I tell you, my dear friend, that you’re right so you can go and say to your husband, “There, take that!” What have you gained? Let me tell you a secret: you’ve lost the right you had. The moment you use it to stab someone in the heart, you’ve lost it.

When someone waves the fact that he is right like a flag and uses it as an argument and a sword, in the end Christ says to him, “You claimed what was yours and took it for yourself. What can I give you now? How can life vindicate you when you go demanding your due yourself?” Let things be. It is enough to know within yourself that you are all right, that you are a decent person and this is not your fault. Endure patiently. And what can we do? Do what you can to make it work with the person beside you now. Society would not speak of it, for instance...

Society used to be harsh in its judgments. Relatives had a powerful say; their interference and their opinions could stand like a wall in front of you. So many women chose to suffer in silence. Silence, always silence. What happened to them? Many became saints. Others lost their minds, some took their own lives, and others became ill. What stays with me is what I said first: many became saints. Seek that holiness. When a bomb goes off, it does not affect everyone nearby in the same way. One person is killed, another is slightly wounded, a house farther away merely shakes, and someone else notices nothing. It depends on where you stand when the bomb goes off, on the house the trouble strikes. You may grow in holiness; you may be left cold and shaken; you may fall ill.

You may even flourish and grow. It is a mystery, isn’t it? The same problems, yet such different responses. Each person sees life through their own eyes, through their own soul and the filters of their heart. We each read the same events differently. Still, it is a great thing that today we can speak about these matters, discuss them, bring them into the open, and put them into words. We are fortunate to be able to share our logismoi, those intrusive thoughts, as well as our temptations and our problems. That means a great deal. And please, if you will accept one small piece of advice from me, do not take revenge on the other person.

One woman said, “I’ll make him miserable. I’ll treat him so badly that he’ll get up and leave of his own accord. Since he won’t leave, I’ll make him leave. I’ll force him, and then you’ll see: he’ll give me a divorce and be out of my life.” But that is not an honest way to live. It does not come from a clean heart. How can you sleep at night? You lose love that way. Speak to him, talk things through, pray, and approach him kindly. And you know, a woman especially can have a great influence on her husband through kindness and wisdom. She knows his character. She knows what will calm him, honor him, encourage him, lift his spirits, and give him joy. She also knows what will start a fight.

A boy at school told me, “My mother usually chooses the second set—the things that start a fight. She knows just what to say to make him complain, to hurt him, to insult him.” As I say this, I feel such relief that I am outside these struggles and do not live through them myself. Yet there are lovely couples, too. One man told me, “I was in a terrible state. She held me there on the sofa, and I fell asleep in her arms.”

“She let me rest. I was a wreck, and she brought me back to life. I was upset, but she soothed me, and I slept.” Would that man ever say marriage was not worthwhile? Especially marriage to this woman? Could he possibly say, “I regret marrying her. I regret finding these arms that know how to comfort me and lull me to sleep, her hands that soothe me like a story or a lullaby”? Why should you not have that, too? You can. But do you know what happens when you hear me say this? You get ready to rush at the other person and say, “Come here and listen. See? You’re not the way he says you should be!” Each points at the other, when each should be looking at themselves and saying, “I’m not living as I should.”

Leave your spouse aside for a moment and look at yourself. You are the only person you can answer for. The other person does not belong to you. Your wife does not belong to you, to be shaped however you want. Even if what you want for her is good, you cannot decide it for her. Her freedom is hers, as are her decision, her timing, and her willingness to change.

Your husband does not belong to you, either, to be made into the man you want him to be. An attitude like that will never change anyone. Work on yourself. Cultivate your own field. Refine and tame your own soul, which can sometimes be like a wild beast. Then let the other person make their own choices.

I’m tiring you out. But you tire me out, too, I must admit. You do not mean to, but what you write weighs on me. I feel your pain; it hurts me, and I suffer with you. How can I put it? When you read dozens of letters, emails, calls, and messages every week from people living through these things, you cannot help feeling sorrow.

You grieve me, and I grieve you. And I say, on a far humbler scale, what the Apostle Paul said: “Who makes me glad but the one whom I have grieved?” Do you know how much joy those who are grieved by my words give me? If what you hear now troubles you, it gives me hope. I am glad if it grieves you, because if it does...

Thank you.

It means you are having a change of heart and want to put something right. If my words hurt you, they have reached you. If they do not, you may be getting ready to hurt someone else—sometimes even me. A woman once came up to me after a talk and said, “I never expected you to say such things or to take my husband’s side so strongly. I didn’t expect that from you.” I said, “What would you have me do? Take your side? I’m willing to support you, but are you asking me to speak the truth? Or, because you respect me, do you want me to flatter you by saying you’re right when you aren’t? Do you want me to be honest? I haven’t insulted you.” And I had not even spoken about anyone in particular. I had been speaking in general terms. But she applied everything she heard to herself because it sounded familiar. “There,” she thought, “he’s talking about us. He’s taking my husband’s side. Can you believe it? How can he do that?”

Those were just words, and there were six hundred people at the talk. Am I answerable to you personally? “Yes, but what you said fits our situation exactly.” It fits many people exactly. Yet some women are honest and genuinely willing to look at themselves. They say, “You know, that’s true.” Like

one woman who said, “It’s true. Deep down, I’m to blame for everything. When this comes over me, I’m not thinking straight. I don’t know what I’m doing at home, or how I’m speaking to my children. I’m responsible for it, and for my own personal problems, which I know very well.” We rarely call things by their name. We talk about one thing when something else is troubling us. Think about that: what you say, what you’re carrying, and what you blame are different things. Other stories lie beneath our words. There are many layers. In any case, may God give us all light. May God give you light. Now I need to spend a long

time in prayer over what I’ve said. Take it to heart, work out what is happening, and struggle with it. I’ll acknowledge where you’re right; I won’t deny you that. I don’t think anyone is being unreasonable. When you have a valid point, you have a valid point. But Christ did not demand what was rightfully His. He chose to give it up. He could have said, “I am right. I should not be crucified. I have done nothing wrong. What have I done to deserve this? Was any of this my fault?” But what did He say? “I give up my claim. I justify you, I forgive you, I love you. I sacrifice Myself, give Myself, offer Myself. I become the victim so that the world may be saved and live.” He who is Life died. Be willing to do this too. And yes, accept it when someone acknowledges that you are right; take comfort in it. You’re human. I seek that too. Then we look at what we can do from here on.

And you have more years to live! I pushed you a little today. If you haven’t switched off the radio, that’s quite an achievement—for you, because you managed to keep listening. In your place, I might have switched it off and said, “I can’t listen to any more of this. These words hurt too much.” But you’re still listening, and we’ve already received many messages

of thanks, along with thoughtful questions. People agree and add their own experiences; they’ve been through these things too. May you be blessed. I’ll pray a great deal, as will the other fathers who love you. Your spiritual father, the people close to you, your friends, and all the listeners who pray—let us all pray, especially for these hurting, confused families who are struggling.

And may God help you as you continue the struggle.

Everything will pass, and everything will be all right. We’ll speak again. Perhaps not on the same subject next time; we’ll return to it another time. The program is rebroadcast, and after a while you can listen to it online. Search for the title of the program; all the episodes are stored there. Thank you so much for your love. Some of these programs, including ones about family life, are written down and included with a CD in the two books we have published—Strengthen Your Soul and Love Forever, issued by the Association of Panagia Galaxa or Thalassokratousa. Thank you for your kind words. Thank you for the company we’ve shared.

May you enjoy your family. I envy you when you have such a lovely atmosphere at home, and I hope the days of this week go well for you. God be with us. Smile, and take care.