6/15/2022
Irina Dmitrieva
Some people in black came to one of the Orthodox churches in Paris and asked the parishioners to read the Psalter for a deceased Frenchman for a rather large sum.
Scary-looking and furry, it simply paralyzed me with its gaze, so I couldn’t move from fear. On top of that, my throat was dry with fear.
But can we judge them? How do we, who live today, differ from the Jews who crowded together on that fateful day on the square in front of Pontius Pilate? What choices do we make today?
Jericho has a glorious history. We read in the Old Testament that it was the first city captured by the Israelites led by Joshua on entering the Promised Land.
This is how the Lord calls on us to reflect on our lives and think about changing them. Besides, sometimes saints themselves knock on our hearts to enlighten them.
After reading extraordinary stories about miraculous appearances of Seraphimushka to people who were looking for him, I tried to imagine that I, too, might be granted such mercy.
Optina is a good place for lessons in humility. Fr. M., having begun his monastic path there at Optina, knew what he was warning us about.
The guards rushed out of the hall. No one was there. Except for the woman, her head covered with a modest headdress: she was humbly praying the Jesus Prayer.
Divine Light is a scorching fire for sinners, but for those who seek Him they are purifying. Purifying our hearts through repentance, He pours out the light of His Divine Love on us, granting us stillness and peace.
The wave of oncoming sleep instantly vanished. The amazed child had a small eight-pointed star on his palm.
The happy young woman in front of me was rejoicing not only at the survival and healing of her beloved nephew, but most importantly, at the small miracle of God that had occurred. And indeed there was something to rejoice about.
That is why a mother's heart is so sensitive, her prayer is so strong, her curse is so terrible, and her sins and her child’s life are so interdependent.
“Well, now go to the Lady of the chapel—the Iveron Icon of the Mother of God—and pray that everything goes well: both your Baptism and your treatment,” I finished.
She fell prostrate before the Iveron Icon, while I (understanding nothing at that moment except for the terrible fact: what would become of the poor young lady and her baby) began to implore the Most Pure Virgin for help.
“Now I await an operation due to my brain tumor. The doctors don’t promise anything good, and I finally want to be baptized with the full awareness of why and for what purpose, As well as why I have such a disease.”
She was obviously not listening to me, realizing that I could do nothing on the other end of the line. How could I help her in such distress?
I was above my body, and all around were the screams of the doctors: ‘We are losing her! Quickly inject her with a drug, otherwise we won’t be able to resuscitate her.’
