May you always be well, surrounded by God’s grace and blessing. I wish you the very best of health, in soul and body.

That is our first wish today on “Unseen Passages,” the program of Piraeus Church on 91.2 FM, the station that speaks to our souls. And by speaking to our souls, it also affects our bodies, our spirits, and our physical health. For when the heart is glad—go on, you know the saying—the face is cheerful. When our hearts are glad, peaceful, balanced, and joyful, when we are at peace with life and accept things as God brings them, without inner tension or resistance, then all goes well. Because, if you have noticed...

Trouble begins when we refuse to accept things as they come, when we do not move with life and walk with God’s will in what happens to us. You and I have heard since childhood, “Do God’s will.” Sometimes that can sound irritating. We think, “Who is this who always wants me to do what he wants? Must I always do what someone else tells me?” But that is not what God’s will means. God’s will is for things to unfold toward your happiness, as He desires.

That is what we mean by “God’s will.” It is the will of someone who wants something you may think you do not want, but deep down you do want it: your happiness. So when you resist God’s will as it comes through events—a bus you miss, an ordeal, a trial, sorrow, a shock, a wound, or pain... We are to move with Him, to keep flowing. As the Saints in our Church say, let your life be like a ball: whichever way someone rolls it, it moves. If you are like a cube, a square box, you cannot roll. You have rigid corners and flat sides, and somewhere you stop and get stuck. So, at the start of the program, I wish that you would not worry too much. Deep sorrow can bring bodily suffering and physical problems. Sorrow can become illness. Watch out for that. Do not take everything so much to heart.

I say this to you as a friend, with great respect, love, and kindness, and with the closeness our good relationship allows. I want to urge you on this point: do not take everything so much to heart that you become deeply upset. That sorrow poisons you. It wears you down, exhausts you, and affects your body as well as your soul. Many of those headaches that give you no peace begin with thoughts, intrusive thoughts—logismoi—and worries like these. Why do we call them dark worries? Because they darken and cloud the mind. They keep you from seeing life in the light of hope.

We are all at risk of this. All of us. I am not speaking as someone who has overcome it. But I understand that when my stomach hurts, when my whole being is unsettled, when I cannot fall asleep easily at night, when my blood pressure and blood sugar rise, these health problems may stem from what we ate for lunch—whether the food was too salty, or whether we ate the whole piece of custard pastry instead of half and took in a lot of sugar—and also from the sorrows in our lives. So, if you wish, take care of your health. That is exactly what they are called. We have spoken about this in other programs too; we have already made two programs on health.

Those programs are called “My Christ, Make Me Well.” You can find them online and listen whenever you wish. Today we continue by saying that Christ helps us through the life of the Church, through a whole way of life that we follow fully, not in isolated pieces. It is like buying a dinner set. You ask, “Can I buy just this teaspoon, or just this saucer?” And they tell you, “No, it comes as a set. You have to buy the whole box.” To experience the changes Christ grants your soul and body, you need to enter this life fully. That is what happened at your Baptism: when you were a little child, your whole body was immersed in the water of the holy font. No part of you remained

untouched by the grace of the Holy Spirit. Do the same now. If you want to see change in your life, your home, your soul, and your health, you cannot hold on to just a few things. Someone may say, “I believe in God in my own way. I do what I want, as I want, as best I can.” What can I say? Try it. I do not want to pressure you about that.

I believe you cannot force anyone. Take confession, for example. What does confession have to do with our subject? Confession helps a person become healthy in both soul and body. I hope you have understood by now that we are talking about health. Vasilis has understood! Vasilis Hatzinikolaou, thank you so much for working on the sound of today’s program, choosing its music,

and keeping us company.

I also thank Phoebe very much for answering your calls at 4118602 and 4118640. There is an email address for this program too. You can write me just ten lines—count them, one through ten—so I can read them and say a short prayer for you. The address is atheata.perasmata.yahoo.gr.

So, in this program we are talking about the health of the soul and the body.

And how does confession help? Beyond the forgiveness of your sin, it removes that wound from your soul. God lets it go, gives you His love, takes you into His arms, and says, “My child, for Me it is now as though that never happened. It is over. I will not look at you strangely or condemn you. It has all passed.” This is a Mystery celebrated by priests as successors of the Holy Apostles. Their calling in the world includes bringing people into communion with God.

They call us to be reconciled with God, to experience that reunion and embrace. And they tell us, “Do you know something? God never disliked you. He never hated you or held a grudge against you.” So you tell your sin, your mistake, your wound—whatever it is, however painful or complicated—to someone you trust. You receive forgiveness, and you know it through the prayer of absolution. This is a Mystery Christ works through the priest. What I am telling you today is that confession affects the body as well as the soul. Just imagine, Vasilis, going to bed day after day for years carrying

wounds like these: painful experiences you have never spoken of, mistakes, wrongdoing, injustice, reckless living, excesses, theft, murder—whatever each person may have done. Everyone has something. Imagine keeping that poison inside, sleeping with a poisoned heart for five or six years, never going to pour it out, to get it out of yourself and be cleansed. You see, people of every age and every religion

are searching—people of every age and every religion are searching for a way

to have their sins forgiven. They seek a way to appease God, whether through sacrifices of sheep and goats, offerings of fruit and flowers, or lighting candles. Everyone wants to be cleansed. It is a longing of the soul, a plea of the heart. Your soul wants to be clean, to feel as you do when you have just bathed and put on fresh clothes. You say, “This is how I want to feel.” You need that feeling. Otherwise, do you know what your soul is like? Like rainwater left standing in the street until it turns muddy. In nature, stagnant water rots into a marsh and attracts mosquitoes.

The place turns green with mold. What, then, is confession? It is exactly this: a wave of clean water comes and washes the old things away. It is like a pavement that women wash with large hoses and plenty of water: the water pours over it, carrying away everything dirty, old, dusty, and muddy. The whole scene changes. You turn the page. You become clean. What a beautiful feeling, what great joy, when confession is done properly—when it is about cleansing your own soul and not commenting on your brother. Do not spend it discussing other people. You will not be healed. You will not find peace. That is the point. Gossiping in confession about one person and another does not help you. You will still be left with that emptiness.

You are left with a sick soul and a sick body. Speak about yourself. Once I told a woman, “I have time to listen. Tell me whatever you want, but speak about yourself. Let out what you have inside.” She replied, “Father, my son found a job the other day.” “Speak about yourself,” I said. “You know, I bought those things I mentioned to you.” “But none of that tells me about you.”

“You are telling me about shopping and about your quarrel with your daughter-in-law. Speak about yourself. Tell me how you feel. Say, ‘I have anger. I am irritable. I am jealous. I make demands. I can be difficult.’ That is what it means to speak about yourself.”

If you never face these things of your own, entrust them to someone, and let them out—if you never become honest and open about your feelings and what you have lived through, but keep talking about other people—nothing in your life will change. You will wander through life watching everyone else. Attend to your own healing, your own renewal. There is nothing selfish about that. When I wash my body, my feet, my hands, and my face, I am caring for myself, but I am also giving those around me a clean person to be with. That is not arrogance or conceit. It is a good way of caring for yourself.

Christ tells us, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Love yourself so that you can love your brother too. Love yourself so that you know what it means to love, and can then love others.

So when we find the courage to confess, we show love to ourselves. It is a sign of health and a step toward healing. I am going to get well. Some people even experience physical healing through confession. When the poison that has troubled them comes out, they notice changes in their bodies, their breathing, and their eating. Often we eat because something we have kept inside is tormenting us, and our hunger is emotional.

Feelings. We are not eating because our bodies lack food or calories that day. We have had enough. But you see chocolate, and it reminds you of sweetness. The sweetness you long for is the love you are missing. You have not spoken about what hurts, what is missing, or how you suffer for lack of tenderness, love, and affection. Perhaps you have argued with someone and become angry. You want an embrace, warmth, affection, comfort. All of that is wrapped up in the word “chocolate,” so you eat some. Chocolate is physical food, but at that moment you are not trying to satisfy a physical hunger. You are trying to fill the hunger of your heart.

You talk about it in confession. You say what is troubling you and why you feel as you do: how you feel now that your husband has left and you have divorced; how you feel when your child slams the door and goes out for the evening; how you feel because your daughter did not pass the exams you hoped she would pass. You had been looking forward to telling the neighbors proudly, and now you feel crushed, as though it reflects badly on you as a family, as a mother, and on your hopes for her university education. Everyone has a story, a pain, a sorrow of their own. All these things affect us, and their effects can reach the body too.

There was a nun who had been healthy, but after a while at her monastery she began to break out in spots, especially on her face. She became terribly irritable and angry. The other sisters easily got on her nerves. Everything bothered her; the slightest thing could start an argument. No one could work out what was wrong. Then one day a spiritual father came and spoke with her. “Father,” she said, “I am in a terrible state. I have these spots. Can you see how my face has changed?” “Yes,” he said, “I can see that. Why has it changed like this?” “And I am terribly irritable. I get angry over everything.” He asked, “Could it be something you are eating? Sweets or chocolate, perhaps? Fried food?” “No,” she said. “We hardly ever eat fried food here, and I have not had chocolate lately either.”

The spots had appeared suddenly. “What do you think is causing them?” he asked. “Could there be something besides a physical cause? Look for what may be troubling you inwardly too. Would you like to tell me about yourself? Will you tell me the truth, even the things you find hard to say elsewhere?” It can be hard to speak of your real feelings. But when you trust someone and speak of the cause—the cause you yourself know very well—remember that you do know why you feel this way.

You know what hurt you and what brought that pain on. That is why someone says the healing of our passions and illnesses lies within us: we know their history. “This began back then, when that happened.” “Go on, my child,” he told her. “I will listen. I will not judge you, accuse you, or scold you. Just speak honestly.” “You see, Father, before I entered the monastery, I knew a man and wanted to start a family with him. That relationship did not work out, and we parted. I turned more toward the Church, and years later I decided to become a nun. I was very happy here. I have not changed my mind about dedicating my life to God. I love it. But lately quite a few busloads of visitors have been coming to the monastery.”

“Couples come with their little children. They laugh and play and enjoy themselves. I see mothers with their children, and I am not a mother. It brings back my own old memories. I think about that relationship from so many years ago.” “So do you want to get married?” he asked. “No. I do not want to leave the monastery. I am telling you how this sadness began. Ever since I started thinking, ‘Look, I am not a mother; those women are married; those people have families and I do not,’ the spots have flared up. I have become tense and irritable, and I quarrel over the smallest thing.” “You are doing very well,” he told her, “to say exactly what is happening in your confession.” After she had spoken, the priest read the prayer of absolution over her

for the other things she had confessed. This thought was not itself a sin; the young woman had done nothing wrong. She had simply said what was on her mind. Is that a crime? Thoughts come, pass, go away, and return. Do not expect your mind ever to be completely... Or rather, no, expect that too. A time will come when your mind is at peace in the light of Christ: an enduring light, the light of Christ that shines upon all, a light that never sets, a dawn without sunset, a lasting Resurrection. But that does not happen immediately. As time passes, the kingdom of light will take root within you. Until then, you will have ups and downs and different shades of experience. You will have hopeful and discouraging thoughts, good ones and bad ones—a bit of everything.

We are human. But after the priest read the prayer of absolution, prayed for her, and supported her with his words, the young woman’s face cleared within a week, and her irritability went away. The stagnant water in her soul had begun to flow. Was that not what I said earlier? Let things flow. Do not let them sit inside us, poisoning us, while the foulness grows. Pour water over the courtyard and wash it clean. Do you like that image? Pour water over the courtyard of your soul. The rubbish and dirt have washed away. Leave them behind. You have spoken of them, and that is a beautiful thing. Then a new life begins, a fresh start: a clear face, courage to live, joy, because...

How can I put it? I shared what I felt. I did not keep it inside; I said it. Someone knows me, understands me, helps me, prays for me. Little by little I find my feet again. I look to God with clear eyes, with hope and light, and I begin to feel better physically too. Do you understand? A woman may have lived through all sorts of things—sorrow, problems, quarrels, resentment, jealousy, dislike, even acts of revenge. She cannot keep all that inside and then simply wonder, “Why do I keep getting migraines? Why do I have sleepless nights, emotional troubles, and constant agitation?” These things need to be talked through with someone who can help.

That person may be your spiritual father. When you need a doctor, go to a doctor as well. The doctor belongs to God too. You would go to a doctor for a broken arm; you can go when your nervous system is under strain. Find out what is troubling you and receive support. Both the priest and the doctor can help you find balance in life.

Why should you not live to be a hundred? Why not live for many years? Why should we die young if we can live blessed, happy, and joyful before God? Is that not why God brought us into this life—to live? We will die, but we were not born for the purpose of dying. Our purpose is to live. “That they may have life, and have it abundantly.” Christ came so that we might have life in abundance, a rich life, above all within. And that happiness shows in the body too. Your blood pressure will be fine. Your blood sugar and heartbeat will be well regulated. And if Father Porphyrios were alive and took your hand, he would see blood flowing through you in which God is reflected, in which Christ is mirrored as the sun and its rays are mirrored in the waters of a river

or a lake, making the water shine and sparkle. When Christ shines within you like that, when His grace is reflected in you and Holy Communion flows in your blood, your health too can be much better. You deserve that. So we have said that confession helps greatly. Refraining from judging others also helps our health greatly.

I have spoken about other things on earlier programs, and I cannot cover them all today. But here is one thing I believe helps you stay well: do not judge other people. You would be amazed what you spare yourself. You know this already, of course, because you do not judge, and your mind is at peace. You sleep peacefully. When you judge others and occupy yourself with their lives, your head fills with a buzz of thoughts: “What did I say? What did I do to him? What sort of person is he? Why is he like that?” It goes on and on, like the noise of bees in a hive. Your head is spinning, and you expect to feel well? That tension builds up, and eventually it affects you physically. This inner state takes a bodily form. It may show up as an ulcer, stomach pain, high blood pressure, high blood sugar, migraines, or neck pain—things that cannot always be explained by physical causes alone. Feelings bring about biochemical reactions. You feel something deeply, and you feel its effect in your body.

It can feel as though something hot is dripping into your stomach. It hurts and burns; your head spins; you cannot sleep. Why? Because of logismoi, intrusive thoughts, and judgments about others. But a person who leaves these things alone does not pry into another’s life. He respects the other person. Why should I involve myself in someone else’s life? Why should I judge what he said or did, or what sort of person he is? Do I know his life?

Do I know what may happen to him tomorrow? He may change. Why speak about him like that? Why make those comments? You do not know the harm such bitter words can do to your own health. Leave other people’s lives alone. Remember the young woman who came into the Church the other day without being dressed as modestly as you would have liked? Is it your place to judge her?

Did the priest of your parish appoint you to comment on everyone entering and leaving the Church? Is that your responsibility? Leave it alone. In that moment you are poisoning yourself and making yourself ill. That is neither love nor kindness. Kindness heals. What did the Good Samaritan put on the wounded man’s injuries? Oil and wine. He washed the wounds with wine and poured on oil to soothe them. But you pour on vinegar instead, as though you wanted to sting and burn him. Leave it alone. You are the one being consumed and tormented by it. Stop watching everything that happens around you. A young woman like that came into the Church, and someone who kept criticizing her was nearly making himself ill over it: “Why is she dressed like that? How can she come in here?” When the priest spoke with the young woman, he learned that

her mother did not want her setting foot in the Church and said it would cause a great quarrel at home. The young woman had no modest clothes because her parents would not buy them; they wanted her to dress fashionably. So what she was doing by coming to Church was an act of virtue, a sacrifice. She endured people mocking and criticizing her. No one knew the truth of what was in her soul, yet people judged her unfairly. She loved God and thought, “How is it my fault that I do not have clothes like those God and the Church would want me to wear? My mother will not let me.” So why do you judge her and concern yourself with her? Above all, do not be malicious. What does it mean to be malicious? It means wanting harm to come to another person and taking pleasure in their failure. Have you ever wondered why a malicious person is called that? Because he wears himself out over it

He wears himself out, and that strain wears down his own health. That is why I tell you: someone who does not judge others or wish them harm is a beautiful person. He sleeps like a little bird, like a child. Christ told us to become like children. Children are simple and innocent; they do not rush to judge. They readily say what is on their minds, yes, but they ask questions simply because they want to understand. They do not condemn people, hold grudges, or decide never to speak to someone again because of an old hurt. People learn that as they grow up and society teaches them to be unkind. Learning to forgive will also help you greatly. It is good for your health. Today I am sharing a few

ways to heal both soul and body. Whoever forgives cuts the thread tying them to the past. That is deeply healing, because the past can be full of troubles, bitterness, sickness, quarrels, and misunderstandings. Those things are over. Do not stay there.

Someone says, ‘Father, I cannot find any peace. My head feels as though it will burst. I cannot get over what my mother-in-law did to me over that plot of land.’ When did she do it? ‘Two years ago.’ Look: today he has a headache over something that happened two years ago, because he cannot forgive it. And where is your mother-in-law now? ‘She has died.’ So you are living with memories from years ago, speaking of someone who is no longer alive, and you are the one suffering. Her soul is where it is, the events are past, and you are making yourself ill. That is why I say: when you learn to forgive, you take scissors and cut the thread tying you to what has gone before. The past is past. Leave it there. Move forward. Look to your own life. Look to your own life.

You have so much to enjoy, so much good to see, yet you keep dwelling on things that upset you. It is as though you were looking for a way to make yourself ill, standing in a cold draft while you are sweaty so you will catch a chill. Is that what you want? Leave these things alone. Break your ties with the past. Forgive him. Love him. What he said is over now. Love him. He may no longer be the same person you knew; he may have changed, and so may she. Can you not hope for that? Can you not believe it? Can you not love the other person's soul? A soul is not clay that hardens forever in one shape. Souls change. The shape that person's soul had

five years ago, when they showed you malice, may have changed by now. They have known pain, blows, and trials. Try to see them differently. ‘And what will I gain?’ you ask. This is what I have been telling you: above all, you gain health, happiness, and joy. You sleep peacefully at night. You can embrace the whole world. You do not poison your body and soul with dislike, hatred, envy, and malice. I tell you, people who live long lives are those with a clear conscience, bodies free from excess, and souls free from such poisons. Of course, I have not met many people like that. Sadly, I am not someone who

lets go of memories and forgives easily. But I know that whenever I have forgiven, I have felt free. It is as though I were a dove struggling in a muddy lake. When I finally get out, shake off the mud, and fly high, I feel such relief: ‘At last, I am free!’ That is what it means to get unstuck. Leave the past behind. Look ahead in every part of life. Forgive the person close to you. They did what they did; now move forward. Life is waiting for you. Do other things, and you will sleep better and feel better in many ways. Your head will be quiet and at peace. Say, for example, that a woman no longer wants to be with you.

Accept that she does not want to be with you, and move forward. There is no point in talking about her and blaming her. People email me: ‘Tell me what to do about this woman who once loved me but does not anymore. I once loved her.’ We have to accept that life moves on. We cannot turn things back to the way we want them. We have to learn to move with life. What did I say at the beginning? Anyone who refuses to go along with God's will as it unfolds in life suffers constantly. He keeps running into walls, getting bruised and battered. But the person who goes where God leads him says, ‘This is how God has led me. All right. She does not want me. I will see what to do next. I will stand on my own feet.’ One door has closed; another will open. I check my pulse: it is fine.

When it is time to sleep, I sleep. Otherwise you lie down at midnight and do not fall asleep until half past one. ‘What do you do for that hour and a half?’ I asked someone. ‘I toss and turn.’ ‘Why? What is keeping you awake? Your thoughts? What are you thinking about? Are you hungry?’ ‘No, I am not hungry.’ ‘Are you thirsty? Do you need something?’ ‘No. I just have thoughts about all sorts of things.’ If you choose to keep living through those troubles, that is what will happen.

I know the way I say these things may upset you. But if I do not say them, I will feel troubled too, because we need to know them and take them seriously. Later you become distressed and ill, and you turn to priests, friends, and acquaintances, saying, ‘Help me. Tell me something. Do something for me.’ But what can I do for you then? Why not listen when doctors say that prevention is the best treatment? Act now, before you become ill. Do not let bitterness, the passions, poisonous feelings, logismoi—the intrusive thoughts that trouble you—and malice build up inside you.

Let a few things go. It is not worth making yourself ill over events that exhausted you or broke your heart. Life is more beautiful than death.

Your home is lovelier than a hospital. Which would you choose? Would you keep worrying until illness lands you in the hospital? Of course not. Let that burden go. Live in the present, live today. Right now, as we speak, there is no problem before us. The problems that poison soul and body are tied to the past or the future. That is why the Church keeps saying, ‘Behold, now is the acceptable time.’ And we pray for ‘our daily bread’ today. What does that bread mean? Bread that sustains our very life. Let us eat today; we will see about tomorrow when it comes. God will provide. If I start worrying about tomorrow, I may become anxious and turn even the good meal I am eating now into poison

through worrying about what will happen tomorrow. Then I make this very moment unhealthy too. So live now, and leave tomorrow until it comes. Take one minute at a time, and enjoy each one.

How are you? You are all right, aren't you? You are all right, my dear. You could even smile if you wanted to. You are all right. But if you start thinking about what happened last year, or the year before, what someone did to you or said the other day, the message you received on your phone six days ago, or the difficult appointment coming up the day after tomorrow, all that back and forth in your thoughts can wear you out. There is no point in it.

Someone says, ‘What will happen when I am old?’ He is perfectly healthy, fifty or sixty years old, yet he asks, ‘What will I do when I grow old? Will anyone care for me? Will I live? Will I manage? Will I have someone beside me?’

You can start worrying now and make yourself ill over something that might happen when you are eighty-five, though you may never need anyone to care for you. God may call you to Himself in a way that is simple and swift, bringing no long ordeal for you or anyone else. Yet you keep inventing scenarios, stories, and logismoi—intrusive thoughts.

The imagination can do this, like that joke about the jack—‘Keep your jack!’—if you know it. I will not tell it now; some of you already know it. The point is that the imagination can do a person great harm, even make him ill. Live in the present. The present is a beautiful thing. Right now we are here making a program. I do not know whether the Second Coming will happen tonight. What I do know is that I am here now, going forward step by step.

And I do whatever good I can. Let whatever is to come happen when God wills. I will not drive myself frantic beforehand. This helps tremendously. You breathe calmly and entrust your troubles to God. ‘God will provide,’ you say. ‘He loves me and helps me.’ Everything stems from the soul, do you see? All of these are psychological problems. Most of us are a little muddled inside. We are not entirely at peace. Why do we suffer so? Because of our thoughts. Our nous, our spiritual mind, is not fixed on prayer to God. As the Psalm says, ‘As the eyes of servants look to the hands of their masters, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hands of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, until He has mercy on us.’ But we do not live that way. We do not look to the Lord. We could say, ‘God keeps giving me gifts. What a beautiful day! I am breathing now. My heart is beating. My blood is flowing,’

I can see that my nervous system is working: I see, hear, smell, and touch. Glory to God, I am well; all is well. Let this rise from within us: praise, acceptance of life, peace with everything, a sense of joy. Be a contented person, so that what comes out of you is not all grumbling, grumbling, grumbling, and complaints. ‘I have no complaint. Everyone is good. Everyone is good. Even the one who is bad is good. God has placed these people beside me for a purpose. He has not placed me here to judge them. He has placed me here to deal with them and learn from my contact with them, but not to judge them.’ If it snows today, blessed be it. Tomorrow there will be a heatwave. What shall we do? We will endure the heatwave. The day after, it rains. The day after, there is drought. Whatever the weather, if you learn to go with the flow and your mind finds its balance.

If we let go of this frantic resistance, this habit of reacting and this pride, and become humble children of God, you will see how beautiful life can become for each of us personally. You do not have to wait for everyone else to change. You can be at peace while the people around you are losing theirs. You may be at the bank, with thirty people ahead of you, and say within yourself, ‘Glory to God. Today I will practice a little patient endurance. I can rest instead of rushing from errand to errand. I will wait here and pray. Perhaps I will send a message. I will pray for the others to have patient endurance too. That gentleman wants a cigarette, but he is beside himself from waiting. God, help him. Outside I hear cars hurrying to work. May all those people be well.’ You see the same situation differently. What drives someone else frantic becomes an occasion for you to pray.

An occasion for peace and praise. That is the secret. And I put my trust in God.

I keep moving toward the person God wants me to become, even if I am ill, and I do it with hope. Think of what Christ said to the lepers: “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” “But we aren’t well yet, Lord. How can we go and show them we’re well? Heal us first.” “No. Go on your way. Begin to believe.” “But we can’t see any healing in our bodies.” “Yes, but first I want you to trust me.” “With leprosy still on our bodies? What are we supposed to trust?” “Trust that I will heal you. See yourselves well in your hearts before I bring about that healing.” Do you believe? That is what it means to believe.

I reach for what I cannot grasp. I touch what I cannot see. Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Through faith, I can lay hold of what I cannot see; I can almost touch it. I cannot see healing yet, but I believe it will come.

I’m in the hospital, and I believe I will get well. I don’t go in for surgery and tell everyone, “You know, this is going to go terribly. I’m telling you now.” No, I hope. Scripture says, “As they went, they were cleansed.” The lepers were healed on their way to the priests, who examined people in those days. Something that had been lifeless in their souls came alive: they believed, surrendered themselves, and trusted. That act of trust matters so much. Trust, love, give yourself, and relax. A man once told an ascetic, “Father, I don’t love God.” The ascetic said, “Well, my child, loving God isn’t easy. Is there at least something in your life that you love? Learn to love something.” “What could I love? All I have is a little dog.” “Love your little dog. Start there.”

Learn to love, and begin with something small. Learn to love a little flower you water. That movement of the soul, that care and tenderness, teaches you to give and to be humble. It teaches you to care for one of God’s little creatures. What is that little dog, after all? Didn’t God create it too? Give it water and care for it. That tenderness will help you love a hungry child, your neighbor, the person beside you, and your God. As Scripture says, “No one has ever seen God.” But we can begin by loving what we can see, and little by little rise from these smaller loves to the great love of God. From these little sweetnesses to the great sweetness of God, beginning with the affection a little flower, a child, or a kitten awakens in you.

Anyone who loves something in this world can come to love its source: God, the God of gods, the beginning of all things. I hope you’ve understood a little of what I’ve been saying today. Our time is up. Many thanks to Vasilis Chatzinikolaou for the music he played for us. Vasilis, what we heard today really was soothing and healing for our souls, as any peaceful sound can be when it helps us make peace with ourselves and with God. The station’s phone numbers are 4118602 and 2104118640. The program’s email address is atheata.perazmata.gr. Thank you so much for your love and your kind words about the books we’ve published from our recorded programs, “Love Forever” and “Strengthen Your Soul.”

Thank you for telling me that you read them and feel rested and at peace, and that sometimes a tear comes to your eyes. I pray that tear brings healing to your soul and body. When a person finds peace and learns to weep out of gratitude, those tears nourish them. They aren’t tears of despair that leave you broken; they are tears that water the hopes that had withered within you.

I pray that we may have such tears in our souls and in our eyes. I pray that you stay well. I pray that your child gets better, and your husband or wife whom you told me has multiple sclerosis. I pray for the person you love who will undergo chemotherapy in the coming days, and for your little child who was born with a serious condition, for whom you are traveling abroad. And I pray for your mother-in-law, whom you love so dearly, as you told me so movingly. May God grant her more years

for as long as His love sees fit. May we all be healthy in soul and body. Both matter greatly. I was so glad to hear from you, and so glad to see you. Yes, I can see you through the radio station, because souls can see even across the airwaves. We’ll speak again next week, about whatever God inspires us to say. Until then, my dear friends, be well.