A certain parish in Moscow has a Psalter reading group. This is a fairly common practice, when twenty people come together and each of them reads one kathisma per day commemorating themselves and their loved ones, both the living and the dead. This way, the Psalter is read in its entirety in one day. Typically, parishioners take on this obedience during Lent and other fasts, but the group we will talk about here is reading the Psalter all year round, and it has continued doing so for several years. According to the members of this prayer group, everyone feels the benefit of reading the Psalter. Several group members shared their stories with the readers of Pravoslavie.Ru about miraculous cases of God's help for the living and the deceased that they attribute to the reading of the Psalter together.
They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone (Psalm 90:12)
T.N. shared:
“I felt the benefit of reading the Psalter from the very first day I began to pray using it. Everything somehow felt different: whenever you encounter some troubles in life, you have only to start reading the kathisma and peace settles in your soul and troubles dissipate.
Whenever you encounter some troubles in life, you have only to start reading the kathisma and peace settles in your soul and troubles dissipate
Two events that happened just recently truly surprised me and strengthened me in my faith. We typically spend our summers at our dacha, and those two events took place there. Everything started out casually: I was putting on my shoes while doing a balancing act and not holding on to anything. Suddenly, something caused me to sway and the next moment I felt that I was tumbling down. A stone threshold about twenty centimeters high was behind me and, according to all laws of physics, I was supposed to fall on my back. But then—in an instant—I saw that I stood upright at the tip of this threshold, one I had behind me. I would never have been able to balance on this threshold by myself (because I was already in the process of falling down!) or, even less so, I couldn’t end up standing upright on the threshold, as I would have to jump up to stand there. I myself couldn't believe how everything happened the way it did!
I felt as though I witnessed a true miracle, as if someone had propped me up to stand there, because, had I fallen down on that stone threshold, the consequences would have been quite sad
I felt as though I witnessed a true miracle, as if someone had propped me up to stand there, because, had I fallen down on that stone threshold, the consequences would have been quite sad.
The second story happened about three days later following the first incident. I went to open the gate to let the car in. Our gates, when opened, are held in place by a special kind of iron spokes. When the gates are closed, those spokes are turned up. I was opening the gate latch and pulled it—it was very heavy and about three meters long. While I was doing it, I must have pulled it with a jerk. As the result, one of the spokes fell down and it didn’t hit the ground but fell inside my shoe and pinned it down. The next moment, the latch begins to fall on me and I have no way to avoid it, since I am balancing on one foot and my other foot is still pinned to the ground. So, I dropped flat on my back together with this latch, landing right on the coarse gravel that covered the ground. But, to my surprise, I felt nothing—there was absolutely no pain. It was literally as if I was gently laid on top of a featherbed, as if it weren’t sharp gravel at all! I felt as if it was really something very soft! So, I had no abrasions or scratches, yet I did feel the weight of the latch that fell and hit me. But even that latch didn’t hurt me! Thank God!
Of course, both of these cases were due to the grace of God, but I attribute them, and I feel it deeply, to our reading of the Psalter together. For me, it is a very special book that holds answers to all kinds of questions.”
Reading Psalm 26 on the plane
Narrated by I.:
“I was flying with my husband and our young son from Moscow to Sochi. My husband was sitting in the aisle seat while my son, in his middle seat, fell asleep resting his head on my husband’s lap. I decided to stand in the aisle to stretch my legs and also to read the Psalter on my phone—my Psalter group assignment on that day was to read the fourth kathisma. Other passengers from adjacent seats also decided to stand up and to open the overhead luggage compartment. So, they open it and suddenly a laptop stored in some sort of a hard-shell like a briefcase flies straight into my husband’s head. So, this heavy thing is flying to land at my husband's head and our son is sleeping right there! It is a miracle that the guy who was pulling the laptop out was able to catch it literally in a split second. It happened in the blink of an eye! As I remember now, as it was unfolding before my eyes, I was reading the first lines of Psalm 26: The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? (Psalm 26:1). I told my husband later: “Did you see this? How powerful the Psalter is, truly remarkable! Thank God for everything!"
“I felt so much better... If it weren’t for you...”
N. tells:
“As I was compiling the first list of the reposed to commemorate at the Psalter reading, I suddenly remembered my neighbor named Nelly who died at the age of fifty-five from a blood clot. She was very kind to my son and me, but you can hardly call her way of life very righteous. She once told me in a private conversation that she had about twenty-eight abortions. On top of that, her life was full of other kinds of “adventures”... Not that we were close, but all the three years when she was gone, I remembered her in this light: "Well, how is she? Where is she?" I also knew that no one would remember to add her name in a simple commemoration note, much less while reading the Psalter. Anyway, I added her name and we prayed for her for several months until the next time we made changes in the list of names we were praying for.
The time came to change the lists and I told her in my mind: "Nelly, everyone here prayed for you and I hope we helped you any way we could, but now I want to add my childhood friend Marina to the commemoration list instead." Marina, by the way, led pretty much the same lifestyle as Nelly did.
I dreamt that I came to Nelly's birthday party! So, she set the tables and she was wearing a white linen shirt, looking so young, fresh and beautiful
And so, the night before we were about to stop commemorating Nelly in the Psalter general prayer lists, I had a dream... Well, I do know and understand that as Orthodox we don’t give credence to dreams, but still... I saw in a dream that I came to Nellie's birthday party! So, she set the table—it was quite a spread—and she was wearing a white linen shirt looking so young, fresh and beautiful. Her relatives and friends were all seated around the table, all of them looking sort of ethereal, and she is buzzing about me—offering to try this or that dish, adding drinks in my glass, and showing me respect, simply pampering me. And I see such gratitude in her eyes, such puppy devotion—it was so touching I could cry! And at the end she tells me: “Thank you, I feel so much better... If it weren’t for you...”
“We really need this here...”
L. tells:
“I began reading the Psalter in a group at the Nativity fast in 2023. I was keen to start reading it, as I had long wished to do it for my son who died in 2016... I was reading, especially in the first days, with particular ease and great joy, as if I was thirsty for a while and at long last came to a living spring. Actually, I still have this feeling. And then, one day after Christmas, during the Christmas season, I had a special dream. Dreams like this are impossible to forget.
On the Holy Days of Christmas, I had a special dream. It is impossible to forget a dream like this
It was taking place in an area where our ancestral home still stands, built by our great-grandfather at the end of the nineteenth century. Right there beside it, or about twenty meters away, once stood the chapel of Sts. Florus and Laurus. Its location is nowadays marked by a memorial cross. In my dream, I am near my house facing the area where the memorial cross stands in our days. Only in my dream, instead of the cross, I am facing a high hill with a wide, clean dirt road that goes to the top. I hear my mother's voice (she is alive, thank God): “Daughter, look, Daddy is returning from the bathhouse!” I realize that she was speaking about my father who died in 2002. We pray for him, too. I effortlessly run up the road to the top of the hill to see my father. The following view opens before my eyes: a great number of well-built village bathhouses, a really warm and bright light pours out of their doors and windows, and there are groups of nicely dressed people near each bathhouse. Some of them enter and others leave these baths and everyone is talking very animatedly, their faces shine with joy and they have smiles on their faces.... I remembered the faces of the group nearest to me—there was some young woman with a really beautiful smile who was talking to another woman, and they were leaving their bath along with some others.... Everyone there was really, truly happy, and they looked just the same all the way throughout, at near every bathhouse. But there was no smoke or steam, nothing but light!
And then I saw my son, he was also leaving the bathhouse, he looked so handsome and so grown up, such a mature young man, dressed so smartly! He comes up to me smiling and I ask him: “Have you already been to the bath, son?” In my dream, I can’t remember that he’s no longer alive. So, he hugs me and says: “Yes, mama, thank you, I feel so good!” I said, “Are you going there again?” He says, “Yes, sure, I will definitely keep coming here and I will bring my friends here with me... We really need to be here...” And that was it; my dream was over...
I was certain that this dream was given to console me, and it was connected with the Psalter reading in our group. Every detail is important in this dream. Even the fact that it included the place where my ancestors have lived is important. And the road going up towards the holy site of a former chapel was so clean and bright. Or, the fact that I ran up the hill so effortlessly and joyfully—similar to the way I felt when I started reading Psalter in this group; but going uphill is still an effort... The baths serve as a symbol of cleansing for our relatives and I assume there were twenty bathhouses there, as many as we have group members, and in each bathhouse, there are our relatives we are praying about, and they are very happy. And the fact that my son said he would bring friends, I guess he spoke of his new friends up there—not the ones who are still alive. He was always a very friendly and responsible man, and so he probably made friends with a lot of people there...
I am quite sure of their life up There, that our separation is a temporary thing, that Love never ceases.... I am particularly thankful that the Lord directed me to join this group, as I never was at peace prior to that after I lost my son; but now I am.
I also wanted to add that I didn’t see my father in this dream, but I know that, thanks to his interest in photography in his youth, we now own the only preserved photo of the chapel of St. Florus and St. Laurus. Dad took a picture from the window of that very ancestral home. Thanks to this photo, it was possible to determine the location of the chapel and erect the memorial Cross in our time.
We constantly move like a millstone, even if in a circle—but the flour keeps pouring, our sins get ground, and the work gets done
Reading the Psalter as a group is a daily labor, and here, I think, the law is that quantity eventually turns into quality. What I value in our group is that we move constantly, like a millstone, even if in a circle—but the flour keeps pouring, our sins get ground, and the work gets done. We usually set goals in our life and make plans only to overcome their consequences later. We also often dash forward at the expense of backbreaking ascetical labors, but then—a pause, and next—another feat. But these days, I prefer to work gradually, making a step forward every day.
May all our reposed relatives find their way to the Heavenly Kingdom and may their memory be eternal!
***
These are the personal stories shared by the participants of one Psalter reading group. They shared them because it strengthened their faith, and it has also become a consolation. Perhaps some of our readers will also take up the idea of collective reading of the Psalter and organize such a group in their parish. Glory be to God for all things!
