I promise that between now and the end of the program, something will happen between us—in our relationship, in what we say, in our hearts, in how we feel.

The program... Sometimes I can see that you're sad, a little low, in mind and heart, even physically. So today's program will have succeeded if, as we spend this time together, we can affect one another: I can affect you, and you can affect me. And as the minutes pass, when the program ends, may we both be better able to face what life brings. May you have the strength to endure, and may your logismoi, those intrusive thoughts, grow quieter and calmer, so that you can think with greater resolve and see things clearly.

You might ask me, how will that happen? It will happen because you and I have a connection now. A relationship is forming between us. I speak to you, and you speak to me. Well, you aren't speaking to me at this very moment, but I do hear from you. Later I read your messages, hear your phone calls, read your emails and letters. That is a relationship. All week long, you share things with me. You tell me what is happening; you give me things to think about. You affect me too, and you shape me in some way. And now I answer what you've given me with these poor words of mine, here on the Church of Piraeus, at 91.2 FM, the station that speaks to our souls. Vasilis Chatzinikolaou is handling the sound and music for the program, and I thank him very much.

And there is our friend who is always answering the station's phones, and you, sitting there listening.

I want to tell you: love your husband. If you can, be a little kinder to him, especially now that he's been troubled lately. I'm not following a set plan today. I want the events of this past week to shape what I say, so I'll move from one thing to another. Life is like that too; so much happens in a week. But do take a little more care of your husband. Show him a little more tenderness, a little more love. Pay a little more attention to what you say to him, to how you use your mouth and your words. Words can work great wonders in another person's soul, and they can also crush him.

You can say something that lifts a person up, fills him with enthusiasm and brings him joy. You can also drive him to despair, and you do that many times. You discourage him and crush him. Please, if you want to live happily together for the rest of your lives, make an effort. For many of you, there are plenty of years ahead. I can see a long future before you because you're young—that's what I mean. So it's no good dragging through life as though every step uphill is a struggle. The point is to live well together.

Um...

And always remember this: the person beside you is a child at heart. Your husband's soul is like a child's, and so is yours. But sometimes you become stubborn and insist on having your own way. You have troubles of your own, and you take them out on your husband for reasons that have little to do with him. Insecurity eats away at you, and deep down you're unsure of yourself. Then you find fault with everyone around you. Things aren't right in your inner life, and you lash out: you're being treated unfairly, he doesn't love you, he doesn't treat you properly, he isn't the man you deserve. And often you become very controlling. If you want to, take a careful look at that. Your concerns and your life are your own; I have no place interfering. But when you send so many letters and messages, when you call and tell me all that is happening, that is the conclusion I reach. Sometimes a man receives so much...

insult, so much bitterness and contempt, that afterward he easily turns to whatever he can find. And he finds other ways to meet that need—in his work, on the street, at the office, in a car, in a shop, in a restaurant, anywhere. My dear friends, my brothers and sisters in Christ, if he doesn't find beside you what his soul is seeking, he will find it somewhere. He cannot bear the pressure forever. Someone else will offer it, and he will accept it. Be mindful of that. And don't jump to conclusions: I'm not blaming you as a woman, because you too are going through difficult times.

I must say the same to the men. My friend, speak a little more gently to your wife. Pay her some attention; listen to her troubles. Don't let life together become a dull habit. Don't take her presence beside you for granted and think, ‘Well, I have a companion for life now, and nothing can change that.’ Things can change. There are many temptations. So live the life you share with warmth and comfort, in a way that gives you both strength. Then you can go out into the world and say, ‘Go wherever you need to go. I know you'll come back. Go to work; I won't be afraid or jealous, because I know I've given you something you cannot get from just anyone. I know I've given you enough,’

‘I've met your needs and given you rest in soul and body.’ Then other offers hold no appeal. A person who has eaten and drunk, who is clothed and cared for at home, doesn't reach out to ask for care elsewhere. Someone offers him a treat, and he says, ‘Thank you, but I won't have any. I've eaten. Thank you. I have all I need. I feel fulfilled and happy.’ Ask yourself this: is the person you share your life with happy beside you? Is your wife happy beside you—so happy that another person's smile, suggestion, advances or invitation leave her completely unmoved? Coolly indifferent, as we say. Nothing. It is like speaking to a rock, or to a pillar of ice. Because that pillar of ice, out in the world...

is someone full of warmth, kindness and love at home. She has no need to seek a sense of worth, importance or attention outside the home; she finds it all there. That matters greatly, and you have a responsibility to give her that, and you do well to give it. I admire some homes, some families, some couples who live this out so beautifully. Each loves the other, senses what the other is feeling, pays attention, and is sensitive enough to understand what the other is trying to say. They told you once, twice, three times. Don't pretend you haven't understood. You got the message: there's something they need.

Perhaps she wants you to take her out for a walk. Perhaps he wants you to cook something for him.

He wants you to talk with him, to open up a little, to discuss something together. Perhaps he wants to open his heart and tell you what's in it. Don't pretend you don't understand; you do catch these signals. That is one purpose of marriage: to grow sensitive enough to understand the person beside us.

Through that understanding, we come to love and unity, to what we mean when we say, ‘We are together, moving together toward God, toward love, toward openness.’ Things like that. Well, I've wandered from one subject to another. I hadn't meant to speak about marriage or relationships today, but hold on to that thought. I remember the pain of a man who said to me about his wife, ‘If only she'd say one kind word to me.’

I asked him, ‘What is it you want from your wife, after all?’ He began, ‘What do I want? She's impossible, she's...’ I thought, let me see what demands this man is making of his wife. So I said, ‘Tell me what you really want from her.’ And he answered, ‘One tender word. One kind word.’ That's all. It sounds simple, he told me, but it isn't simple when she won't give it. What you call a small thing, she won't give me. It isn't hard, and yet it is very hard. It isn't hard to say, for example, ‘My dear, I love you.’ Yet it can be terribly hard, because how do you bring yourself to say, ‘I love you’? It means...

It means reaching out and touching another person's soul. You draw close to them, and we aren't always used to that. We don't always want to be so open with our feelings, so human and heartfelt, so close to one another. We want to keep a certain manner, to hold our distance. As some women say, ‘I don't want him getting the upper hand.’ All right, don't let him get the upper hand. Keep hold of the reins of your arrogance and your pride, and take satisfaction in having kept control of the family. But how? Mostly through selfishness, arguments and quarrels.

What else can I tell you today? I want to tell you that sometimes I admire your soul. I see people who are so humble, so gracious, so lovely, with such patient endurance. These different things are coming into my mind now.

Once I went abroad, and after I came back I found myself remembering the trip. Someone had taken me to a restaurant. I was sitting at the table, watching the people around me, when I saw a couple leaving. I noticed how the man made way for his wife, how patiently he waited, and how modestly he looked at her, with love and devotion. It spoke to my heart. I thought, ‘Look at these humble souls. They go out for a walk and carry themselves with modesty among other people. Their manner is humble, and they protect their relationship.’ Isn't that a virtue? It is. Holiness can be found in many things that don't catch our eye. It can be in the way you behave on the metro or the train: how you carry yourself, the character you show. It can be in wanting something but holding back and saying, ‘All right, I won't make selfish demands.’ And it can also be in saying, ‘Could you give me a little of what I need?’ Simplicity can be holiness; so can discernment, modesty and courage. All of these can be holiness. It depends on what a person does and the disposition of the soul behind it.

Well, you see, a little time has passed and we've talked about a few things. Do you feel as you did at the beginning? That thing that was weighing so heavily on you then—is it still weighing on you just as much?

I’m looking at a potted plant here, near where I do the program. I was away on a trip. It’s one of those plants with green leaves that grow and trail downward. It spreads out as it grows. It isn’t a telegraph plant; it’s something else, with green and yellow-green leaves. Someone gave it to me for my name day years ago, and it never dies. These are the only plants I can keep alive. I’m often away giving talks, doing programs, or traveling, so the shutters stay closed, the house is dark, and the other plants wither. But I keep this green one on a little balcony. It gets a bit of light and survives. Once I was away for several days, and the poor thing had wilted. In its own way, it was speaking to me. When you see a wilted...

little potted plant with its leaves hanging down, it’s as if it’s saying, “Have pity on me. Come on, master, have pity on me. You’re like God to me. If you don’t give me water, I’m finished. I’ve withered away.” So I took a little jug and watered it. I love going back the next day to look at it and seeing its leaves full and strong again. It was standing upright once more. The wilting had gone. That’s how the sadness that sometimes makes us wither can leave us too. Someone says one kind word to you, and your soul blossoms. You smile; you change at once. Everything changes. You feel joyful and happy. But one person can crush you with an unkind word or an insult. That alone can leave you in pieces. Well, these are logismoi, intrusive thoughts, too. They will pass.

People say that a hundred people can love you, but if one person insults you, you feel awful. I find it very hard myself to love someone who gives me harsh criticism or says something unsettling. It’s hard to admit that he may be right. To say, “Yes, he has a point. Think about it. You need to put this right. You’re not doing this well. You’re going wrong here. Accept it.” And then don’t expect to hear only praise. Some people praise you, encourage you, and lift your spirits. Others will speak to you more sternly. Why should your mood change so easily? Why fall apart because someone corrects you? Look into it. If they’re right, take it to heart. If they’re wrong, let it pass and say, “All right, that person...”

“That’s what they think of me. What can I do? Does everyone in the world have to understand me? Does everyone have to believe my motives are perfect? All right, this person doesn’t want to see it, or can’t see it. That’s their right.” It comes down to how we ourselves respond, so we don’t torment ourselves over what people say or how they feel about us.

Um...

What matters is who you are inside. What does it matter what I say, or what anyone else says? I might tell you that you’re the most remarkable person in the world, while you know you’re not. Or I might tell you that you’re a failure, that your character is a disaster, that you’re awful. Yet within yourself you may feel Christ smiling at you and saying, “You follow me, my child. Let the others be. Follow me. I love you. Did someone tell you they don’t value you? Let them say it.”

“Does it matter? Explain yourself if you can. If you can’t, let it pass and live your life with joy.” But the struggle is within you. The battle is within you; that is where it is fought. What are you doing? How do you feel? What others say is not the heart of it. Do you understand? What will you say to me? What will I say to you? I’ll listen when someone points out my faults, but I won’t let it make me ill. Of course, how someone corrects you matters. You told me that yourself: “Some people want to correct me, but I wish they would do it kindly. I can’t bear an insult that humiliates me, because I can see that the other person wants to belittle me.”

Yes, what you’re asking for would be ideal: for someone to correct you kindly. But can everyone understand that you need a gentle approach? You want your medicine given as syrup. The other person doesn’t understand that and reaches for an injection, jabs you, and says, “I’m telling you this for your own good.” Yes, but the pain made me jump. I can’t bear it. Say what you mean more kindly. You can’t say blunt, insulting things to another person. Speak with love. Speak with respect. Put yourself in the other person’s place for a moment.

The Gerontikon says that whoever understands another person’s soul and treats them in a way that does not wound, hurt, or insult them has found the path to salvation. Love: we must love one another. There was a man in Jerusalem, one of the guardians of the Holy Sepulchre, who kept saying, “Love and forgive. Love and forgive.” Some people made it their motto because it was...

easy to remember. Others laughed a little; it sounded funny to them. But hold it in your mind: “Love and forgive.”

Forgiveness. Nothing more. Love and forgive. The years go by; life passes. Love and forgive. I love the other person, and I make room for them within me. That is what it means to forgive: I have room for you. All right, you are who you are. What can we do? You’re human, and so am I. Perhaps I’m a scoundrel and you’re an angel; one person is like this, another is like that. Love and forgive. Let each of us understand the other and draw courage from the other. Let the strong shelter the weak, carry the burdens of the weak, and go forward together in life.

What else can I say to you today? I sometimes see how anxious you are about your future. Your own family insults you so often. The other day, your mother spoke to you in such an insulting way. Why do the people who love us so much sometimes speak to us so harshly? She even raised her hand against you, and you’re both grown women: you’re older, and your mother is older still. We’re not talking about a ten-year-old child who gets a slap now and then for some reason. You didn’t expect it. You were hurt; you became ill. And what struck me was what you said happened after you argued with her. The next day, some symptoms of illness and pains in your body became...

much better. You felt relief. Do you know why? This is how I thought about it: sometimes it’s worse to keep everything simmering inside, saying nothing and sitting alone with your pain. That distress can show itself in the body. When you hold in your troubles and let them boil within you, they can come out as illness, migraines, neck pain, rashes, or red patches. These things aren’t always caused by allergies to almonds, hazelnuts, seafood, or whatever else someone might be allergic to. Often the soul is under pressure, drawn tight, and unable to speak.

It says nothing until it feels ready to burst, and that pressure in the soul shows up in the body. Suddenly there’s a red patch from nowhere, or the skin on your fingers splits. That used to happen to me when I was very anxious about exams, a presentation, or a talk I had to prepare. Suddenly the skin on my fingers, my index finger or my thumb, would split open. Sometimes it bled, sometimes it didn’t, but the skin opened. It came from the strain. That was how it showed itself in me. Then you go through a calmer time, perhaps take a little holiday in July or August, and relax. Nothing happens. Your body is well and your skin is calm. It’s the same with you. Because...

you kept that tension inside, it came out in your body. But on the day you argued, when you shouted at each other and she went to hit you, and you defended yourself and pushed her away, I’m not saying that was the perfect way to behave. But one thing matters here: you let the pressure out. You said what you had been holding in. You brought it out into the open; you confessed it, you might say. I don’t mean Holy Confession before God, the Mystery we go to for confession. I mean you admitted what was inside you and said, “Leave me alone. I’ve had enough of you. I feel as though I’m going to burst in here. I can’t stand this.” Harsh as that sounds, there is something healthy in it: it is a true part of your soul coming out. In that moment you are being a real human being, despite all your...

fallen condition, your sinfulness, your earthbound nature—whatever is negative in you at that moment. The good thing is that you bring something true to the other person and say, “Look, I’m angry right now. We live together all the time, and I can’t go on in this oppressive atmosphere, feeling ready to burst and saying nothing.” And...

suddenly you spoke. You argued; she said things and you said things. Something moved between you. And you tell me that the next day your body felt better and the rashes had gone down.

The pain passed because you let out that pent-up force: the tension, the argument, the poison that had been building inside you. It really was like poison, and you brought it out. That is one of the good things relationships can do. They help us see what we’re carrying. They help us bring it up and cast it out, like vomiting what needs to come out.

As far as possible, this should happen in a good atmosphere. But a good atmosphere does not mean pretending everything is lovely, with nothing but sweet words and kindness all the time. If I keep storing up anger, rage, hatred, dislike, jealousy, and all these things, and never speak of them, share them, or talk them through, they keep working inside me and create problems.

I’m telling you to learn to speak and to argue in a way that leads somewhere. Some arguments end with an apology and an embrace. Perhaps afterward you shut yourself in your room for an hour or two, but then you come out, sit down to eat together, and say, “Come on, let’s eat. We’re going to eat together. You’re not leaving; we’re not separating. This is life. This is what we’re like. We’ll speak and we’ll struggle, and you’ll love me in the end even after seeing the ugly, dark parts of me. Because this is who I am. Would you rather imagine you met someone else? Don’t you want the truth? This is who I am, and this is who you are. We need to stay together and learn to love that part of each other, and little by little we’ll heal it.”

Don’t be afraid of an argument, and don’t let it wound you too deeply. And when a door closes, this is how I see it: don’t break it down to get inside. Change course. You can’t force someone to love you, accept you, speak to you, appreciate you, or praise you. They don’t want to, they can’t, they don’t feel it. Wish them well. Truly wish them well, without contempt. God knows how to bring something good out of this. Do you believe God loves you? Do you believe it? What a great thing it is to feel that God loves you, holds you in His hands, cares for you, and keeps you so close to His heart.

So if others don’t love you, God loves you. And let me tell you something: love yourself too. What do I mean by that? Value yourself. Respect yourself. Show yourself that you matter, at least in your own eyes.

The problem is not that others don’t love us. The problem is that we don’t love ourselves; we treat ourselves like rubbish. We say, ‘I’m useless. I’m incapable. I’m strange.’ All right, those are my wounds, my troubles, like a rash. But they are not all that I am. There is more to me. Love yourself. Feel how much God loves you. There is a good way to love yourself, without conceit.

Thank you. I don’t mean comparing yourself with others and thinking you’re the best. That’s not what I mean. Loving yourself means feeling at ease with who you are.

Feel at ease with who you are, even if others never understand you. Look at yourself in the mirror. See the things you don’t like, and say, ‘So what? I’m not beautiful or handsome. I’m not going to be on a magazine cover or turn heads when I walk down the street. But I still love myself very much.’

My God loves me because I have worth. My whole being is more than my appearance. A wrinkle has appeared here, I don’t like my eyes, and people make jokes about my nose. ‘What kind of nose have I got? I can’t bear it. I’ll kill myself.’ I’m telling you, would you kill yourself over your nose? You have a nose, but you are not your nose.

Do you see? I have a car, but I am not my car. It’s parked outside; it belongs to me, but it isn’t me. If it has an accident tomorrow and gets damaged, that doesn’t mean I myself have fallen apart. Unless—and here is the point—unless I have identified...

My worth, my personality, and my soul with my car. That is where the problems begin. So if you think your beauty lies in the parts of your body, that your worth and your very soul are there, then you will suffer. Some people, I’m told, can’t even speak on Skype without getting ready first. They do their hair, put on makeup, and dress up because someone will see them.

Yes, but what matters in a conversation, on Skype or anywhere else, is what the other person hears: the quality of your soul and what you bring to the conversation. Your greatest problem, and mine, is this: to feel loved by God. That is a profound thing—to feel loved by God. I felt it once, after returning from a trip to America. I had jet lag, which lasts a long time for me, about twenty days. I’m awake all night and dazed and sleepy all day. I forget things. It takes me a long time to recover from the seven or eight hour time difference. That’s what jet lag is, if you haven’t experienced it. At night, your body is still used to the hours abroad...

You don’t adjust immediately to the local time in Greece, and that causes problems. So one night I went to bed at one, woke at three, and stayed awake through the rest of the night and the following day. I put on headphones and listened to the radio station. Someone was reading passages from the Gerontikon, the sayings of the elders, in such a gentle voice. Something stirred in me. Imagine listening at four in the morning, in the complete darkness of your home, the complete darkness of your neighborhood—complete darkness all around. You sense a stillness everywhere. Only a few people are working at that hour, mainly in hospitals or at urgent jobs. As I listened, I felt the sweetness of the Gerontikon: its kindness, its unassuming spirit, its simplicity, its stillness.

Little stories that don’t end with some great ‘wow,’ as the children say. Just simple words, carrying gentle touches of divine love. And somehow I felt that love within me. There I was, awake with jet lag, thinking, ‘My God, how beautiful this is.’ When you realize God loves you, you feel incredibly rich. You feel you have everything. And then you want nothing. Nothing is missing, not even sleep. You aren’t angry that you can’t sleep, asking, ‘Why can’t I?’ You surrender. You let go. You feel happy and deeply understanding toward everyone, as though everyone has a point.

When this sense of God’s love touches you and you feel loved, nothing around you can shake you. And when everything around you irritates you, the reason isn’t that you’re a bad person. You haven’t felt that tender touch that quiets your complaints. If God touches us, our grumbling, our complaints, and our dissatisfaction fall silent. Only gentleness comes out of us, and we say, ‘How wonderful, my God. Thank You so much. How wonderful that You love me, that I matter so much to You, that You lift me so high.’ And you feel lifted very high, but not because...

That doesn’t mean you’re better than others. No, there is no comparison at that moment, no thought of being superior. You feel the greatness and splendor of the human person, of the soul. You feel this closeness to God. As Christ says, ‘Abide in Me, and I in you.’ ‘I am in My Father.’ ‘I and My Father are one.’ And whoever loves Me will keep My words, and the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit will come and make a home within that person—a warm dwelling place in your heart...

In my heart and in the hearts of everyone. This, in the end, is our greatest problem and our greatest lack: we don’t feel God’s love for us. We read and read, we talk, but we don’t melt with happiness like ice cream, or like ice before the sun. The warm rays melt the ice into water. When we feel that love, your husband may come home upset. But if divine love has filled you that day, you will hear his irritation, his foolishness, his odd habits, his demands, his harshness—whatever it is, even if you think you have the most difficult husband...

And you may not be difficult at all. But if you live in Christ’s love and know that God loves you, you will look at your husband with such love, compassion, and understanding that the love within you will embrace him. Imagine that you are a large circle and he is a small one. Which circle covers the other? The large one. It surrounds the small one. Feel a wave of love within you strong enough to cover the waves that come from others, whether small or large...

The waves that come toward you as if to drown you. You can say, ‘No, you won’t drown me. You can’t.’ And let them pass. The love within you is greater, stronger, more powerful.

These are miracles. As you can see, this is the miracle of spiritual life and holiness. Whoever experiences even a little of it will feel something of what I mean. Saint Porphyrios the Kafsokalyvite spoke of feeling God. Once, as he walked through a field, he was living...

He was living in that very state I’ve been describing: he felt that God loved him, and he was very happy. Everything else troubling you is nonsense—I’m telling you plainly. I know you have problems. But none of them deserves to leave you as devastated as you are. You magnify them and give them too much weight. You have much to be grateful for. Your one great problem is that you haven’t felt God’s love. That is all.

You may say, ‘But I’m unemployed. I’m ill. I have problems.’ I understand, and you’re right. Still, keep what I’ve said in mind. I nearly forgot the story about Saint Porphyrios the Kafsokalyvite. Vasilis, what have you been doing all this time? You’ve been so good, sitting quietly and listening. Of course, I know you’re speaking too, joining the conversation in your heart. Play some music for us, one of your lovely musical breaks. The station’s phone numbers are 4118602 and 4118640. I mention the email address simply so you can send a few words. Please don’t expect an answer to your emails. If you’d rather not write, that’s fine; but don’t write thinking we can solve life’s problems by email. We can’t. You can say a prayer, and God will send it where it needs to go. Still, writing is a way to stay in touch. Thank you, too, for getting the two books we published, ‘Love Forever’ and ‘Strengthen Your Soul.’ Personally...

I hope you’ve been able to get them. I mention them because the money goes to a sacred purpose, and that is why I promote them. It isn’t for me; it is for a church dedicated to our Most Holy Theotokos (All-Holy). So thank you for your kind words, your love, and your goodness. In a moment I’ll tell you what I meant to say about Saint Porphyrios the Kafsokalyvite.

Your choice of music is wonderful. Thank you so much. How do you do it? Your music stirs something in my soul. We get many messages about Vasilis Chatzinikolaou’s music. It fits so well, and I love having it here.

Now, I understand your troubles. But think about what I said earlier. Even if you’re lying in a hospital bed right now, you’ve felt this too. Don’t tell me you can’t understand what I’m saying, or that it makes no sense, because you have felt it. There have been moments, even in your difficult, painful life, when you’ve felt God’s grace, if only for an instant. You’ve felt Christ, the Lord Jesus Christ, enter your soul and comfort you, taking away every worry, every painful thought, and every sorrow, even while you were suffering. And you said, ‘Wait—what’s happening here?’

‘The tubes beside me, the fever, the cancer, the chemotherapy—what’s going on? Am I no longer sick?’ Yes, you are still sick. ‘Have I been healed?’ Not yet in your body. But deep in your soul there is a place, a garden, where God reveals Himself. In that innermost part of your being, there is no trouble. And when that part of you comes to light, when you feel it and begin to understand it more clearly, you ask, ‘What is this?’ It is a place where troubles fall away, where you find the grace of Baptism and of Chrismation...

There you find the Holy Trinity, our God, His love, His divine uncreated energies, His presence. There is no trouble there. Then that feeling fades, and once again you’re in pain. You’re writhing, getting angry, cursing, blaming the doctors and blaming God—the God you felt so close to a moment ago. Don’t worry. You’re human. I’m like that too. One moment I’m grateful and my heart is warmed: ‘Everything is fine. God, You are so good.’ A little later I’m saying, ‘Why do You let things happen this way, God? What kind of God are You?’ What does that mean? Are we all out of our minds? We love someone and then quarrel with that very person. At times we even hate him and shout at him; at other times we love him.

Father Porphyrios once felt God’s presence so strongly that he walked happily along a path by a wooded field. He didn’t notice a large sheepdog coming at him. The dog leapt high into the air, stretched out its paws, and landed on his shoulders. Father Porphyrios turned to it, but he was in a different state. What kind of state? He was beyond the dog’s agitation, beyond the fear that would have seized you or me, beyond panic and a cold sweat. Those are the little circles I was telling you about, our ordinary experiences. A much greater experience had come, a great circle that covered them all. What was it? God’s love. At such a moment, you don’t feel those other things. It’s like what Christ tells us in the Gospel: when a woman gives birth, a great joy rises within her because her child has been born. And that great joy...

It wipes away the little pain, the circles of little pain. ‘Oh, I’ve forgotten all that,’ I say. ‘Oh, it’s gone.’ But weren’t you in pain? Weren’t you crying and shouting just a moment ago, gripping and biting, suffering as you gave birth? ‘Yes, but then I didn’t feel this way. Now I see my child. Now I have a miracle. Now I’m living something different.’ When you live that ‘something different’... So Father Porphyrios turned to the sheepdog and said, ‘What do you want? What’s the matter?’ And that sheepdog was terrifying. I once had an experience like that in my village: they see you from 500 metres away and keep charging at you to... They’ll eat you alive. Sheepdogs aren’t house pets trained to sit and stand on command. And yet it calmed down, because grace covered it, covered it, enveloped that dog too, enveloped the dog.

It was the presence, the felt grace of God, which can transform even lions and all creation. Think of Adam in Paradise, living among the animals without fear. They loved him and licked his feet. Life was different then. They lived with gentleness, surrendered to God, and felt His presence.

These are the parts of life I love. This is the kind of spiritual life I love. This is the Christ I love. Sadly, I don’t know Him very well. Perhaps even saying ‘very well’ is too much; I don’t know whether I have even a little knowledge of this God. But this is where we need to reach. Then you’ll see everything differently, and your troubles will be resolved...

Uh...

For a few days, you'll be different...

You may decide to write me an email with your complaints, then change your mind and say, ‘Oh, never mind. What would I write? I don’t really have anything to complain about.’ You see? You were going to write about all your troubles, but then you spend a little time with a few spiritual thoughts. Something comes into your heart and covers what was there before. It’s as though a breeze from the Holy Spirit blows through you...

And you say, ‘Oh, it’s all right. These things upset me, but they’re really nothing.’ Now, what did we say at the start of today’s program? By the time it was over, you and I should be different. Are we? We are. How? We’ve taken a step. We’ve taken a step. Do you agree, Vasilis? You’ve taken a step, and so have I. We’re connected to one another...

We affect one another, we pray, and we hope. We leave everything in God’s hands and rest quietly. It may look as though we’re being lazy, but this takes real effort and strength of soul. You have to say, ‘I leave it all to God. I won’t give in to the thoughts that come and tell me: You’re lost. You won’t manage. What will you do about your future? I’m going out of my mind. There’s no way forward. I’m afraid. I’m anxious.’ No, I won’t accept them. It’s hard to drive away these logismoi, these intrusive thoughts that suffocate you. But believe me, they are thoughts. Reality is not as harsh as they make it seem. If you change stations now and listen to the news, you’ll be shaken. You’ll hear again about wars, killings, money troubles, crisis, and poverty. Then you change stations and say, ‘Ah, this is part of life too. This exists too.’

If you can see things calmly, you’ll be able to turn back even to the news of war and face it with that same peace, as we said earlier. That great circle of joy filling your soul will cover your worries about money and everything else. You’ll say, ‘Wait a moment. Am I hungry right now? No. Glory to God. Am I thirsty? Yes? Then I’ll go and drink some water.’ There’s your answer for the moment. What else do you need? A little food and water—I have those. I’ll look for the money I need, too. And I’ll do what everyone does: I’ll struggle, pray, keep trying, work with others—and steal. I’ll steal God’s love, His help, His mercy, His peace. I mean that I’ll ask Him: ‘Please...

...Lord, give me Your peace. I want that peace. I want some calm, because life is driving me to distraction. If You don’t give me a little calm, what will I do?’ That is how we get through life. And so life goes by. This program has gone by, the hour has gone by, time has gone by. Our whole life of ninety or a hundred years will pass too—and may God grant us even more.

Could you bear it? In the end, living for many years can be hard. You may find you don’t have much left to do. When you’re young, you say, ‘Oh, I hope I live a long time.’ But when you reach a hundred, you may feel terribly weak and ask, ‘What am I doing with my life? I can’t run. I can’t do the things I used to do with other people. I can’t work out or drive.’ Then your soul needs something to live for. And if you haven’t learned to find that something now, it will be very hard then. So I pray that God will have mercy on us and help us. And as a priest, I make the sign of the Cross over you.

May God bless you. I make the sign of the Cross over you. God gave us priests a hand with which to bless you. May He take every sorrow from your soul and blow it all away. This is my wish for you: love God and love people, but don’t make gods of them. People are human, and they will disappoint you. Love God. Free yourself from every kind of dependence. Stand on your own feet, and sometimes kneel to pray. Love your spouse, your children, your family, and all will be well. Forgive me for saying so much and wearing you out. We’ll speak again next time. I’ll be waiting for you. God be with us. Goodbye.