I told you the days would pass quickly and we would talk again soon. Well, the week has passed. My dear friend, wherever you are in the world, we are together again on Unseen Passages, here on Piraeus Church, the station that speaks to our souls, at 91.2 FM. I am glad to speak with you again. I am glad we will spend another hour together, and that you will share with me the riches of your beautiful soul: the flower and fragrance of your heart, your pain and tears, your anxiety and fear, but also your sweetness, humility, katanyxis—your compunction—and prayer.

We can receive something from all of this; all of it can enrich us. With us is our dear friend Vasilis Hatzinikolaou, a musician and sound engineer who handles the program’s sound and music. I thank him very much.

Well... I’m doing well. Generally, I’m doing well. Thank you so much for your concern, your questions, your good wishes, and the many messages and emails you’ve sent. I’ve saved the emails, and I use them for our programs. What you send me gives me the material for them.

Do you remember what I wrote in the introduction to our book, Unseen Passages? The first volume has been published, with seven broadcasts written out as text. In the introduction, I say that if I were to include a bookmark as a gift with the book, it would be one of your tear-soaked tissues.

A tissue from what you’ve been through. Most of those tears come from pain. People cry and are moved by joy too, but I don’t think that usually calls for a tissue.

We soak many tissues with our tears of pain. In the end, the book has no bookmark. It comes with a CD of the seven broadcasts, and you can read the rest in the book. So yes, generally I’m well—as well as a priest can be when he hears people’s pain every day. I cannot do something about every sorrow, nor can I take their pain upon myself. Our Christ bore that pain. Christ forgave our sins. He took our sorrows upon Himself: our anxiety, our tears, your loneliness, your mourning, your struggles of mind and heart, your illness.

Your endless patient endurance and the wrongs done to you—Christ took all that upon Himself, didn’t He? But we clergy hear people’s sighs. They come to us, pour out their hearts, and cry. We do not solve their problems ourselves. Christ does that. He gives us strength, and He is the source. We are little streams, little taps. You might look at a tap and say, ‘What a fine tap! It gives water.’ But remember: if the spring dries up, nothing comes out of the tap. Our spring never runs dry. It is Christ. So find the spring, love the spring, and learn one day to drink directly from it. Do not put all your trust in a tap, however polished and well kept it may be—

whether it really is good or only looks good. The water comes from the spring. Drink it and you will live. Don’t worry; you will receive something good. And how can I be completely well when, just before starting this program, I read an email saying, ‘Father, please pray for a six-year-old child who lost his mother a year ago’? I’m well myself. With God’s help, my life is peaceful and calm. But can you feel entirely well when you hear such things? Don’t you feel some of other people’s pain too? ‘Pray for a thirty-three-year-old man. They have found something very serious, and we hope it isn’t worse. Pray that he lives. Ask God to help my children, who want a divorce.’

‘Ask God to help my daughter, who has been married for many years and cannot have a child. Ask God for this, ask Him for that.’

There is so much pain among people. That is true. I tell you this in the hope that it may give you a little comfort: you are hurting, deeply, but so many others are hurting too. This voice coming through the radio has entered your home. At the same time, it has entered another home. You understand that you are not the only one listening. Others are listening too.

You may be listening and thinking, ‘Look what I’m going through.’ I assure you, my voice is reaching another home as well, and there too it touches pain. I can enter that other home through the radio waves, though you cannot. Piraeus Church enters homes so easily: you switch on the radio, click, and you hear it. There is pain in that home too.

There is real comfort in knowing that we are united even in our pain. I’m not the only one who cries. I’m not the only one who is poor. I’m not the only one who was suddenly dismissed from work and told, ‘We’ll let you know if we need you again. Thank you for all you’ve done.’

You might say, ‘He’s talking about me today. Come and listen—he’s talking about how I lost my job.’ But I’m speaking about many people. Do you know how many are going through similar sorrows? So what shall we do? We will keep trying. First, we’ll take a deep breath and say, ‘Glory to God that I can breathe.’ We’ll feel our pulse and say, ‘Glory to God that I’m alive, that my heart is beating, that I’m here. God will provide, and I’ll keep trying.’

Others keep going, and so will I. God will not abandon me. I’ll hope, believe, make an effort, and pray. I’ll ask others to pray too, and I’ll get up and go wherever I can do something. I’ll take concrete steps. Remember when you told me, ‘I want to get married, I want to get married,’ and then said, ‘God will provide’? I told you that God does provide, but you must go and seek what He has for you. Be active. Work together with God. Reach out to receive His gift and say, ‘My God, thank You.’ So leave your house. How do you expect to find someone to marry if you stay inside all day and all night, watching television, listening to the radio, reading books, and praying to meet...?

What are you expecting? A woman selling books to knock on your door and say, ‘I’ve come to marry you, if you like, because I’m the miracle you prayed for’? That could happen, if your prayer is like that. You might meet the person you will share your life with as if by a miracle. But you too need to do something. Go out, take action, strengthen your will. What did the Lord ask before working a miracle? ‘Do you want to be made well?’ Do you? You are sick, but it is not entirely clear that you want to get well. Do you want to? Say it aloud so you can hear yourself. ‘Yes, I do.’ Then show it. Get dressed, take care of yourself, go out, walk, and meet people. I mean that in a broad sense. Thank you.

I say this because many young people are struggling. Look, everything is going through a crisis, including marriage and the prospect of getting married. These are times of difficulty and inner turmoil. We must keep striving. Please, don’t give in to discouragement. Someone came to me and said, ‘Please pray for me. On Tuesday I have an exam in a very difficult subject, and I don’t think I’ll pass.’ I told him, ‘You’ve already failed within yourself before you’ve even taken the exam. You’re living out that failure in advance. How will you pass when you’ve already decided you’ve failed? You have no faith—

not in your own ability, not in God’s power, not in a miracle, not in divine help. What good will my prayer do if you give it nowhere to take hold? Give me your hand so I can pray. But let that hand...’

‘...be a hand of faith, of living trust in God. Call on Him and say, “It will happen.” How does it go in the Psalms? The prophet David has such powerful words for God: “My rock, my strength, my refuge.” A rock does not move. It gives you firm ground and safety. So I stand on that rock while the waves crash beside me, and I am not afraid. I am standing on my rock. My God, You are everything to me. When prayers like that rise from your soul, of course you can pass your exams, build a family, and overcome life’s obstacles. Have faith, faith, faith. What a great thing it is: living trust—’

‘—in Christ, in His power, in His all-wise care and plan for us, in His love for us, for you. God loves you so very much. I feel unworthy to tell you this. You deserve to hear it from someone whose words make it plain how true it is, and my own lips speak it so poorly. But it is true: God loves you very, very much.’

Day and night He thinks of your troubles, your sorrows, your desires, your secret thoughts, and your anxieties. Thank you. Let it fill your whole being: you are in God’s hands. He cares for you. Nothing in your life happens by chance; everything happens for your good, and God will bring it all together in the end. You will see that, not only at the end, but along the way. A wise plan is unfolding around your life, leading you toward maturity, faith, wisdom, strength, holiness, understanding, beauty, growth, and the deep formation of your soul.

I told you something else, too: many of the things you go through are answers to your prayers. You want to become a holy person, a holy woman, don’t you? Well, how will you become holy? God is giving you lessons in holiness. He says, “Do you want to grow a little in holiness? Accept the coworker who makes fun of you tomorrow. Do you want to grow a little in holiness? Accept the woman who came about the building’s shared expenses and told you the most absurd things. And please, forgive the neighbor who keeps complaining because the apartment building has poor soundproofing. She’s always telling you, ‘Quiet, quiet, I can’t bear it!’” And you say, “But it’s eleven in the morning! Can’t we talk? Can’t we walk around?” You hear such unreasonable things. And God says, “Yes, but this, too, is a lesson: a lesson in holiness, forgiveness, and understanding another person.”

In sympathy. In sympathy and a compassionate heart. The other person has a problem; you don’t have that problem. She may be bothered, but how do you respond to people who are difficult? All right, suppose the other person is entirely at fault. God says, “I want to teach you something else as well: how to deal with and bear with people who are at fault, and with difficult personalities. Show a more generous heart. Don’t become like them. Then there will be two people with a problem, with anger, shouting, and quarrels.” Forgive a little. And pray for everyone: for yourself, your child, your husband, your wife, for you and for me. I will pray for you, for everyone, and for myself. And may these broadcasts, this Piraeus Church radio station, and everything heard here stir all our hearts to prayer. May there be a holy person who can

see us all with the eyes of the soul, and see that when the sound of Piraeus Church reaches someone’s ear, a prayer rises from that person’s soul like a flame and ascends to God. If everyone listening to Piraeus Church right now offers a prayer—you offer one, I offer one, and all the many thousands of others listening offer theirs—

there are thousands of people listening around the world at this very moment. If we all offer a prayer, we enrich the earth. “Fill this night with angels,” went a song we used to sing in catechism class. “Lord, fill our night with angels.” Send angels. Let each of us send an angel into the world. Let us all offer a Paraklesis, a supplicatory canon, to the Most Holy Theotokos. How many Paraklesis prayers will be heard today!

Let us all offer a Paraklesis to the Most Holy Theotokos. I know you already do. But perhaps you don’t, or perhaps you usually do and forgot yesterday. Let us all pray the Paraklesis to the Most Holy Theotokos today, shall we? Then it will be heard thousands of times. You tuned in to the broadcast, so you should pay something too! You give no money; you listen for free. Everything is free and easy. Well, listening to this broadcast will have a cost. That cost is not money. In fact, giving money is easier than doing what I’m asking. It is harder to pray the Paraklesis today than to say, “Father, here are three euros, or five euros, or whatever you can give to someone.” Prayer is hard. You have to withdraw for a while, gather your thoughts, lift your heart to God, reach out to the feet of our Most Holy Theotokos and ask her help, and bring your thoughts to rest in peace.

Ask the Most Holy Theotokos for consolation, tenderness, and help. Don’t forget this. I’m not speaking figuratively, and don’t say to me, “You have such a way with words.” I mean it. If you want to take what I’m saying seriously, pray the Paraklesis today. Read it if you don’t know how to chant. And if you can’t say all the priest’s parts and the psalms, then say just the hymns to the Most Holy Theotokos.

Thank you very much for the music. And don’t be so distressed. I’m not talking to you, Vasilis. I mean a young woman who has told me about her troubles, her college courses, and the pressure she faces at home. Don’t let your distress overwhelm you.

Look ahead and think of the life you will make beautiful in your own way. Respect the parents God has given you for a good purpose. The man you marry one day may also have something difficult about his character that reminds you a little of your father, your mother, or the home where you grew up. Learn how to deal with different personalities. That is how we mature and grow stronger, so long as our souls are not crushed.

So long as our souls are not broken down. Beyond that, there is no one who has gone through life without taking some blows.

Everyone has felt pain somewhere and struggled with something. An absolutely happy family and an absolutely happy life—I don’t know whether anyone has lived with everything so rosy and perfect. We all go through difficulties. What matters is that we can think about them, talk about them, and look them in the eye. We must not hide them, cover them up, or sweep them under the rug, as the saying goes. We need to acknowledge what we feel: “I’m afraid. I feel insecure, betrayed, alone, helpless, terribly afraid of the future.” Say all these things. Speak of them to God in your prayers. Entrust them to your spiritual father, who guides you through life while walking his own path of struggle. And we go on.

There is no one who doesn’t have some problem, great or small. That is how I see it, at least. I’m not saying this just to put you at ease or give you false hope. It really is so. Still, that phrase I used, “put you at ease,” matters. It is important to do things calmly and peacefully, without putting too much pressure on yourself.

I say this because—let me give you an example. A young man came to me and said... Ah, you’re listening to Unseen Passages. Don’t forget that! That’s why I move from one thing to another. And the passages are unseen because you cannot see them. This broadcast is a little like a prayer, too. By now you’ve picked up your Paraklesis booklet and are holding it, ready to pray when the broadcast ends. You say, “Let me keep it here in my hand. Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ll have the booklet ready so I don’t forget when the broadcast is over.”

And that way you pray a little. You may even pray as you listen. And you, painting an icon of a Saint—you told me you listen to Piraeus Church in your icon studio, and we keep each other good company. The white you’re adding to the Saint is beautiful, as are those highlights on the face and the expressive eyes you’ve painted. They are very good. I pray that your icon may work miracles. I pray that someone seeing it may be deeply moved. It is a great thing to look at an icon and be moved. Well, a young man came to me and said, “I smoke three cigarettes a day. I used to smoke three packs a day. I kept hearing the advice, and I’ve been struggling and trying. With God’s help and my own effort, I found other things to do and got down to three cigarettes a day.” I told him, “Well done. Keep going.” “What should I do?” “Keep going.”

“You smoke three cigarettes a day,” I told him. Someone else heard this and said to me, “What kind of advice is that? He needs to give up those last three cigarettes too.” I said, “He used to smoke three packs a day, remember? If you want to give him that advice, you tell him yourself.”

He said, “Have you found a story about a Saint and cigarettes, to see what the Saint did?” I haven’t found one about cigarettes. I’ve found other stories that I think apply. Remember the Sayings of the Desert Fathers that I’ve told you about? They console me and give me much to think about and many chances to look honestly at myself. I look at myself and at my pastoral care—at how I deal with people.

And a thought about pastoral care. There is a Saint called Abba Poemen. Poemen means “shepherd.” That was his name. They called him Poemen because he lived up to it: he shepherded people well. One day a monk went to him and said, “Father, I’ve come to ask your advice.” “So what do you do?” he asked. “I sow my field and work the land. Farming is mainly what I do. I like the fields.”

“And whatever I harvest,” the monk said, “I give to the poor as alms.” “Well done,” Abba Poemen said. “That’s good. Keep doing it.” With the eyes of his soul, Abba Poemen could see into another person’s heart and understand a great deal. Another monk heard about this and said to him, “Father, aren’t you ashamed?” Do you know what he actually said? “Don’t you fear God? A monk came to you, and you told him it was good to work the fields? That’s no counsel. You’re leading him astray!” Abba Poemen had a settled way of dealing with people like that: he kept silent. The man talked; Poemen said nothing. Silence. A few days later, Abba Poemen called back the monk who worked the fields. The other monk, the one who had corrected him, was there too. In front of him, Abba Poemen said,

“Brother monk, let me ask you something. What did you tell me a few days ago? That you work your fields?”

“Yes, Father,” he said. “I told you I cultivate the field and...” “Ah, Father,” Abba Poemen said, “I gave you the wrong advice. You see, I thought you were speaking about your brother, who lives in the world, and saying that he had fields. But you—you are a monk, Father. You should not have fields.”

“You should devote yourself to spiritual work. What you are doing is not fitting for a monk. Please, stop doing it.” Then he nudged the other abba and said, “You see, Father? I’ve corrected him now. Are you satisfied?” The monk left, and the other abba said, “Now you gave him the right advice. Well done! Why did you tell him he could have fields? Now you’ve spoken properly. He’s a monk; he shouldn’t be doing such things.” Abba Poemen said to him, “Now listen to the answer he will give us. Wait and hear what he says.” Then he asked the monk, “Well, Father, what do you say? You’ll stop working the fields, won’t you? Leave them alone.”

The poor monk said, “Listen, Father, forgive me, but I don’t know how to do anything else. This is what I know, and I enjoy it. I can’t stop, and I can’t follow your advice. Please, I’m going to carry on. I don’t even know when I’ll come back to see you. I don’t feel right about this.” He left deeply upset and discouraged, as though his wings had been clipped, and closed the door behind him.

Then the other man, who had acted like a superior ascetic, more Orthodox than everyone else and certain he was right, said, “Father, forgive me. I made a mistake when I told you to correct him.” Abba Poemen replied, “My Father, I knew everything you told me. I knew how to preach at people, play the teacher, and tell everyone, ‘Stop this; that is forbidden.’ I knew that working fields is not a monk’s task. But I spoke to him according to where he was and how he thought. I met him there and, above all, encouraged him to keep striving. That was what mattered to me. And do you remember what he said about his field? ‘Whatever I harvest, I give to the poor as alms, with love.’ So I placed my hope in that love.”

“But do you know what we achieved?” he asked. “He left grieving. I hurt him with those words just to please you. He’ll go on doing the same thing, but we’ve stolen the joy and peace he found in his work of service. We troubled him for no reason.” This is what happens when we advise someone without discernment, without love, without illumination from God, and, I would add, without courage. It takes courage to speak as Abba Poemen first did. He wasn’t concerned about what people would say about him. He told the monk...

“Well done. Keep your fields and work them.” For he understood: “If I demand that this man pray a hundred hours a day, that is beyond him. He is devoted to God, but he can express his love for God another way, through his work of service. That reaches his soul more deeply.” This is the art of every shepherd. And you, too, are a shepherd.

You may be a father or a mother, a teacher or a catechist. Anyone entrusted with people, anyone who helps guide them and bears responsibility for them, is a shepherd. Such a person guides, cares for, helps, brings people together, and supports them.

Did you hear what Abba Poemen said? “Do you think I don’t know the strict path? Do you think I don’t know the exact demands of the spiritual life? I could have told him, ‘That is forbidden.’” And with the young man who smoked, do you think I didn’t know how to say, “Smoking is very bad for your health; it is a sin”? Of course I knew. But I also knew that saying it then would break the connection between us. I would lose that soul, discourage him, perhaps send him into despair. That would be worse. What are we missing? Discernment, an open spirit, and the ability to admit our mistakes. It is very rare for a Christian who has spent years in the spiritual life to admit that his thinking may be wrong. We settle into one way of thinking, and our minds become set, like...

Like clay, let’s say. You knead it and knead it, and then put it in the oven. Once it has hardened, it will not change. Our minds can become like that. We say, “This is how I think. Are you going to tell me to change now? I’ve thought this way for sixty years. And you’re telling me things about God that would make me change what I regard as sacred?” But think of an ocean: at one time its water becomes a stream; at another it rises as vapor, forms clouds, and falls as rain. It may pour down as a waterfall or rush along as a river. It does not stay fixed in one form. The one absolute truth is God’s love. Yet there is more than one way for that love to flow into our lives.

That is why the Lord also says to one person, “Follow Me”; to another, “Go home”; and to another, “Go to your own people and tell them of the miracles God has done for you.” He sends one person on a mission, another to a monastery, and another to raise a family. There is no single path, no single answer. I will give you one answer, and you will give me another.

We cannot say that everyone must do the same thing about a particular matter. There is one common answer to this in the Church. We do not copy anyone. What do we receive instead? A measure to guide us, ways of discerning, and a spirit of prayer, love, katanyxis—compunction—humility, and truth. Then we work all this into our own hearts.

We work it in, again and again, into our own heart, which has its own shape.

Do you know the shape of your heart? It is about the size of your clenched fist, your whole hand closed up. That is roughly the size of each person’s heart. I’m making a fist and looking at it right now. All of this is the heart. If your hand is smaller, your heart is smaller; if your hand is very large, your heart is larger. So your heart is different from mine. You knead all these things together—prayer, humility, love, truth—and your own result comes out.

If the Lord stood before us and we asked His advice about the same problem, He would answer you one way, speak to me another way, and answer a third person differently. He called the Pharisees hypocrites outright. With Simon the leper, He began with a question: “Simon, I have something to ask you.” That was how He approached him. He spoke differently to the Samaritan woman, and differently again to the Apostle Peter. One look from Him softened Peter’s soul, and Peter wept and repented. To the Pharisees He spoke like an earthquake and a thunderclap: “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees!” One Christ, yet a different answer for each person. What is that called? Discernment. And that is what you lack. Why? Because whatever your child says, you have one answer ready. Suppose your child asks to go out late one night. There is no chance you will change your mind. You will say no.

“No, no, no.” However many times your child asks, you give the same answer. God does not do that. Ask Him. But if you want His answer, you must first let go of the answer you have already settled on inside yourself. When you ask someone a question, you listen with open ears because you do not yet know the answer. We, though, imagine God is like us. We think, “He’ll say what any person would say.” And God says, “Your picture of Me is far too human. Let Me speak for Myself. You leave Me no room within you. There is nowhere for My illumination to enter, because you have filled every space with your own light. You already know everything. You claim to have the truth and understand it all.” Very well.

Then why is your home like this? Why do your children not want to see you? Why is there no contact between you at all, if you are so happy and so right? You say, “It’s their fault. They won’t listen to me.” That is not how things are. You know your child is not a bad child. If you spoke a little differently, your child would listen and understand. Your child is not inhuman or so hard-hearted. If Christ spoke to your child, would He not win that child’s heart? “Yes, but He is Christ.” Yes, you are Christ too. You too, if you wish, are Christ, because you have received Holy Communion. Isn’t that so? “Abide in Me, and I in you”; and “Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him.” Christ dwells within you. Do you let Christ speak? How will Christ speak? He is not speaking, but for Him to speak, you must first be silent.

Before you speak to your child, you have already prepared your answer. Be quiet for a moment and say, “Lord, You came into me yesterday through Holy Communion. Give me the words to answer this child now: this rebellious, defiant, angry, troubled, melancholy child; this child caught up in sin, drugs, motorcycles, relationships, nights out, gambling, or whatever else it may be. If possible, Lord, let the words be Yours and not mine.” For that to happen, we first have to unlearn our usual way of behaving. We have become so accustomed to responding in one set way that change is hard.

At home, I always kept the salt in one place, in a cupboard on the right. Then one day I moved it to the left. It took many days for my hand to get used to taking it from the left, because I had kept it somewhere else for so long. Habits are not easy to break. You, too, have grown used to thinking, “I know everything.” To begin with, you do not have a conversation. You do not want to hear what the other person is saying, understand them, or feel what they feel. Instead, you think, “What is he up to now? He is approaching it from this side so he can bring it around to me from the other. But he does not know me: I am more cunning than he is.” Listen to the inner dialogue of a mother who feels caught in a pursuit, in a competition with her own child. Who is more cunning, and who is cleverer than the other? Yet Christ tells us to become like children, to become innocent souls like children.

And do you know another way to become like a child? Pray. I once read about people who had their brain activity measured while they were praying. I do not know the science of it, but one thing stayed with me: the writer said that during prayer, the brain becomes like that of a baby or a child. It was to a soul and heart like a child’s that Christ promised to speak. He also said that such souls have angels who continually behold the face of God the Father. And if an angel beholds God the Father, that angel can speak to you as well, if you become like a child.

But we do not do that. We think we know the answer beforehand; we are so predictable that our children know what we will say. That is why God does not grant us illumination, and why we do not see the results Abba Poemen saw. He won that monk’s heart. Of course, I think he later spoke so firmly on purpose, so the other monk could see what happened and come back down to earth. I believe Abba Poemen later found the monk with the field and helped him set his thinking right again: “Father, carry on. What you are doing is good. Keep cultivating your little field. Giving what you grow to the poor is an act of love. And pray as much as you can.” He saw where that monk’s heart was drawn. I see the same thing in people: each has a gift.

There is something wonderful in recognizing another person’s gift and helping it grow. Someone says to me, “I could never do what you do, speaking to people.” And I tell him, “I could never do what you do with computers—the programs you make, the care and intelligence you bring to them. I admire you.” God blesses us both, because each of us has a gift. I cannot think the way someone gifted with computers can; perhaps that person could not give a talk like this. Yet we all need one another. For this broadcast to reach you, it takes computers, equipment, and people like Vasilis Chatzinikolaou, whom I thank again. I need you, you need me, and we all need each other. Above all, we look to God and say, “My God...”

“Everything begins with You. Every good gift and every perfect gift comes down from above, from the Father of lights. Lord, all gifts come from You.” So notice your child’s gift and respect it. Abba Poemen taught me that. You see, I read a saying in the Sayings of the Desert Fathers, and it stayed with me. That is how Abba Poemen helped me. He also says something else that shows great discernment. Let me give you an example and bring his teaching into the twenty-first century. Suppose you learn that your child copied someone’s answers at school. The school caught your child and told you. Your child comes home, and you ask, “Why did you copy?” But the child says, “I didn’t copy.”

“I didn’t cheat. Cheating isn’t right, Mom. I don’t do that.” Now listen to what Abba Poemen says. First, let me tell you what we usually say: “Aren’t you ashamed? The school called me. I know you cheated. They caught you! You’ve disgraced us, and now you’re lying and trying to cover it up!” We go on until we’ve crushed the poor child. Yes, the child has come home and lied, and really did cheat. But listen: Saint Poemen says that if someone sins and denies it, do not rebuke him, because you will take away his willingness to do better. When your child says, “I didn’t cheat. Cheating is wrong; I wouldn’t do that,” the child is also telling you, deep down, “I know it’s wrong, and I don’t want to do it.”

The same response applies to cheating or, say, stealing something. “But Mom, I didn’t do that.” “You didn’t, my child.” How could you answer? Abba Poemen says to tell the child, “All right, my child. From now on, though, keep your eyes open. Keep your eyes open. Guard yourself; be careful. We are all human, and any of us can face the temptation to do something wrong. I too might face that temptation someday. Keep your eyes open and be careful.” Give the child a way forward, he says, so that they do not fall into despondency. That is the secret. Do not let the child’s soul sink into gloom or begin to think, “Everyone has found me out. I’m worthless, incapable, a failure, a bad person. I bear the stigma of being someone who cheats and steals.”

Sometimes people I know have done something, then come to me and say, “Father, I didn’t do it. I’m telling you the truth.” I say, “All right. I know you’re trying. I know you’re struggling, and I know you’re a good person.” Don’t immediately contradict them or show that you’re clever enough to know everything. Let yourself seem a little foolish. That strengthens the person’s soul. You reflect back to their heart what you truly hope for them: “My child, I truly hope for and believe what you’re telling me: that you are the person you say you are.” You lift their spirits. You acknowledge, “I don’t think of you as that kind of person.” And even if something did happen, it may have been a moment of weakness, a hard hour, a bad moment. That is not who they are. And don’t do this as theater or acting, or as some sort of false technique. Your heart...

To truly encourage the other person. Even in a couple’s relationship, for example, one might say, “I hope there isn’t something else going on...” The other replies, “My love, how could you think that? What are you saying? What put that in your mind?” “I don’t know, my dear. Have I upset you somehow?” “No, my love.” “All right. Deep down, I can’t believe such a thing of you either. I believe you when you say there’s nothing going on.” Even if one partner suspects that something is wrong in their relationship, the first step should be trust.

When you trust someone, you help win their trust in return. They may think, “This person trusts me. How could I let them down? They love and respect me. They believe I can do what is right at school, in my marriage, at work.” That says, “I believe you are capable.” Otherwise, you crush them. And if someone senses that you have put a label on them—“Whatever you say, I know what you are”—they may think, “Since you’re so sure, I’ll do everything I can to prove you right. Then you’ll be vindicated, and so will I, and afterward you’ll have good reason to blame me.” What strikes me is how thoughtful and psychologically perceptive this is...

Well...

Abba Poemen’s counsel from so many years ago comes to mind. A child comes to school, and you ask, “Why didn’t you study?” The child replies, “I wanted to study. You know I care very much about your class, but something happened at home yesterday”—when nothing happened at home.

These things call for discernment and balance. You need to see when a child is deceiving you again and again, until deception becomes a way of life, and when the child needs someone to trust before opening up and telling the whole truth: “You know what? I didn’t study because I didn’t feel like it. We got a great new computer game, and I played for hours and lost track of time.” To earn that kind of trust, you must take care not to discourage the child when they speak to you.

What did I say today, Vasilis? Did you understand? Nothing very specific—various things from the sayings of the elders. I picked up on a few points about schools, and the time passed. We’ve spent an hour together. Don’t forget the Paraklesis you’re going to pray. That is something beautiful; it will stay with you. When the program ends, at some point before you go to sleep, pray the Paraklesis to our Most Holy Theotokos. Why? For what intention? For the whole world, yes—for the whole world. And as you pray, imagine the Most Holy Theotokos holding a great basket of flowers, roses and blossoms of Paradise. Each time someone prays the Paraklesis, she lets a flower fall to earth for us. I’ll pray too—another flower. There, another flower. How many have gathered? The earth will fill with flowers, the flowers of the Most Holy Theotokos. Fragrance. The Theotokarion says things like this, in words such as: “Most Holy Theotokos, you have your flowers, these blossoms of Paradise; send them to us.”

This is not just my own romantic fancy; the Church speaks this way too. There is room in the Church for tenderness, for reason, for strength, for strictness, and for poetry. There is room for all of us. Love is what holds us together and has kept us together all this time. The program’s phone numbers are 4118602 and 4118640. The email address is atheata.perasmata at yahoo dot gr. In a few days, you will be able to download this program from the internet and listen whenever you like. It is also rebroadcast on Piraeus Church; they will tell you the day and time. May God give you strength. I’m glad we talked. We’ll speak again next week. Don’t forget—I’ll be waiting for you. Take care.