In the Soviet Court (Divorce). Fragment. Artist: Alexey Solodovnikov
My dear brothers and sisters in Christ. I do not write these lines with my pen, but with a heart wounded by other people’s divorces and comforted by other people’s reconciliations. I know that many of you reading these words are tired. Tired of misunderstandings, of the cold in bed and at the dinner table, of the oppressive silence or, on the contrary, of noisy quarrels. And the enemy of the human race is already whispering to you a simple solution, as it seems to him: “Go, tell your story to someone, complain, they’ll understand you, know what to do.” I beg you: stop. Stay with me in this text for a while, and perhaps God will give you a different perspective.
The Little Church and the Covenant of Heaven
We are used to calling a family a “small Church,” but we often say these words in a formal way, without considering their profound and salvific meaning. The Church is not the walls of a temple, but a gathering of faithful believers united by the Cup of Christ. Similarly, a family is not a stamp in a passport, a shared budget, or a set of frying pans. It is a Sacrament. It is a covenant made not before some middle-aged woman in a registry office, but before God Himself.
A family crisis is not a broken machine that needs to be repaired by a neighbor. It is a surgical procedure that God performs on your souls
When two people stand under the wedding crowns, they are given grace not to take pleasure in pink clouds forever, but to walk the path from “I” to “we.” It is a terrifying journey of crucifying their own selfishness. A family crisis is not a broken machine that needs to be repaired by a neighbor. It is a surgical procedure that God performs on your souls. And just like during an operation, there is no need for onlookers. What is needed is silence, prayer, and trust in the Doctor. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. (Matthew 19:6).
Ponder this: Not only people, but also circumstances, and other people’s advice, and even the seemingly good intentions of relatives - nothing should break through this closed door.
Main mistake: The Sacrament on the Square
The biggest problem for modern families is “taking the garbage out of the house.” In the past, this proverb was taken literally, and the garbage was swept to the doorstep, not allowed to go any further. Today, we grab this garbage and run with it all over the world: to our mother, to our friend, to our brother, to social media, and to random passersby.
Why do we do this? Most often, out of false humility, which smells of pride. We are looking for confirmation of our own rightness, not advice. We paint our spouse in black colors, while keeping silent about our own sins. We create a “coalition of the righteous” against one “guilty party."
Remember how often, after making up a day later, you have already forgotten the reason for the quarrel, but your mother or best friend has not. In their eyes, your spouse has forever remained the “monster” you described in tears and anger on Tuesday. You have forgiven, but they have not. And this poison will drip into your relationship for years to come.
The confessor sees the soul and speaks from the Scriptures. The neighbor sees only the facade of your anger and measures it against her own broken fate. To trust the facade to others is to throw that which is sacred to the dogs.
The mystery of marital silence
There is a concept of “marital silence.” It is not about shutting up and not talking to each other. It is about reverently preserving the inner world from external intrusion. Everything that happens between a husband and wife—moments of weakness, tears, intimacy, household miscalculations, and spiritual downfalls—is covered by love.
Let’s remember the sons of Noah. Ham saw his father’s nakedness and went to tell his brothers about it. Shem and Japheth took the clothes, walked backwards, and covered their father without seeing his shame. This is an example of proper behavior. In every family, there are moments when a spouse appears in an unattractive state, such as being drunk, weak, foolish, or angry. The goal of the other spouse is not to take photos of this disgrace to present to the family court, but to cover it with their love without judging it.
When you complain about your husband or wife to others, you are permanently damaging your respect for them. Words are not sparrows, and saying things like “He’s a loser” or “She’s a hysterical woman” in anger will remain in the minds of your parents. Why are you surprised when your mother-in-law looks at her son-in-law with disdain? You have given her those glasses.
Confession before a confessor is a healing and a shame that leads to purification. Confession before a crowd is a striptease of the soul that leads to devastation.
St. John Chrysostom, the great teacher of piety, spoke of the family world as a precious vessel that must be protected from the slightest draft. Do not turn your home into a thoroughfare!
The illusion of “being alone": leaving as a betrayal of the covenant
The most sly and most modern scenario is the escape. “I’m tired,” “I need space,” “Let’s live separately and test our feelings.” It sounds so noble, so European. But behind it lies an age-old sin: cowardice.
Marriage is not a comfortable rental agreement that you can leave after giving one month’s notice. Marriage is a cross
Marriage is not a comfortable rental agreement that you can leave after giving one month’s notice. Marriage is a cross—the same cross on which the old man is crucified. And when one of the spouses steps down from this cross, they leave the other to die alone.
I remember a case from my pastoral practice. A husband, tired of everyday quarrels, went to his mother to “sort things out.” His wife was left alone with two children. A month passed, then another. It was convenient for him: well-fed and washed by his mother, he was free from the cries of his children and the reproaches of his wife. However, when he decided to return, he discovered that his wife had cried out all her love during those months. She had learned to live without him. Having gone through the pain of betrayal, her heart closed and became covered with a crust of ice. The separation of the bed was the first step towards the separation of souls forever.
Relatives who support such a “family vacation” take on a terrible responsibility. They don’t help, but like thieves they undermine the walls of your home, thinking they’re just “letting some air in.” The alternative to solitude is a shared pilgrimage, a collective prayer of agreement, but not running away from each other. Unless there’s a life-threatening situation, endure. Endure alongside each other. Even in silence, even by forcing yourself, but together.
Everyday grievances and the curse of “telepathy"
Now, let’s talk about what destroys families from the inside, quietly, without any scandals. It’s about silent pride. This is a classic scene that every priest is familiar with. The wife sits with a stone-faced expression, while the husband genuinely doesn’t understand what happened. It’s about him not realizing that he needs to take out the trash, even though she “hinted three times with a sigh.” Or about her not appreciating his heroic patience when he silently suffered from a headache, expecting sympathy.
Expecting your spouse to read your mind is not a sign of a deep spiritual connection.
My dear ones! God gave us a tongue not only to eat food, but also to enunciate words. Expecting your spouse to read your mind is not a sign of a deep spiritual connection. It is a sign of pride and manipulation. It is “telepathy” in the service of the devil.
In this context, I often remember Anton Pavlovich Chekhov’s brilliant short story, “Pecheneg.” Do you remember the retired Cossack officer Zhmukhin? He tormented his wife all his life with his foolish reasoning and complete lack of love, and when she died, he never understood why she was unhappy. He lived with her in a remote steppe, but they were infinitely distant from each other because there was never a single heartfelt word between them. His “philosophy” had replaced his life.
And how many families are there where husbands, like Zhmukhin, live in a world of their own theories, while their wives silently suffocate without a simple, warm word? And their souls die not from screaming, but from this icy, endless, steppe-like silence.
A request made aloud with gentleness is humility. A grudge swallowed in silence is a time bomb. Don’t make your loved one guess. Don’t punish them with silence. Say, “I’m in pain,” “I’m tired,” “Help me,” “Please hold me.” Remove the sin of ignorance from your loved one.
ABC of Family Dialogue: Practical steps
I cannot leave you with only admonitions. As a shepherd, I must give you a staff to guide you. Here are some simple yet life-saving rules for those who have chosen to live according to God’s will rather than the whims of this world.
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The “Locked Door” rule. Everything related to your disagreements, finances, intimate life, and future plans is between you. If you need advice, you go to a priest together. Neither your mother, friend, nor godfather has a key to your bedroom.
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A language without poison. Forget the phrases “You never,” “You always,” and “Your mother.” Speak about yourself: “I’m worried,” “I lack your attention.” This is the language of a mature soul.
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Defending against well-meaning people. When someone tries to give you unsolicited advice for the hundredth time, say gently but firmly, “Thank you for your concern. We will handle this ourselves. If we can’t, we will consult a priest.” This phrase will put a stop to any uninvited arbiter.
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The holy quarter-hour. Turn off the TV and put down your phones. Sit next to each other, not opposite each other like enemies, but in front of an icon. Light a candle or a lamp. Let each of you say what you are grateful for today and what you are sorry for. Don’t interrupt. Listen as if you were in confession.
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The Common Chalice. The strongest remedy for divorce is a joint confession with the same priest and a joint Communion. When two people partake from the same spoon, their grievances melt away like wax. How can one drown in everyday life when the Blood of Christ flows through their veins?
Return to the Covenant of Love
My dear, look around. The world outside is not kind. It is indifferent and cruel. It will gladly trample on your union, grind it up in gossip and rumors. Do not give it this opportunity.
Remember Gogol’s “Old World Landowners,” Athanasius Ivanovich and Pulcheria Ivanovna. People said they were boring, that all they did was eat. But read how the old man cried when she passed away. There was such depth of understanding, such quiet, familiar love, that all Shakespearean passions paled in comparison. They didn’t tolerate gossip. They lived in their own silence, and that silence was filled with God.
Talk until you’re hoarse, pray until you’re in tears, but don’t open the doors of your ark to strangers. There’s a flood out there
Love is not butterflies in the stomach. It is a great spiritual feat. It is a volitional act. When Christ asks Peter, “Do you love me?” He uses the verb “agapao,” which means sacrificial, volitional love, rather than just “philo,” which means friendly affection. And Peter responds with this kind of love. This is the kind of love that we are commanded to have. Love is patient, love is kind… love does not envy, love does not boast, love does not vaunt itself (1 Corinthians 13:4–5).
Cherish your bond. Don’t let the world judge it. Live in the silence of love, bear each other’s burdens, talk until you’re hoarse, pray until you’re in tears, but don’t open the doors of your ark to outsiders. There’s a flood outside. Your home is the last island of paradise on earth. May God strengthen your home.
