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The shallow reader sees only a warning against suspicion. The deeper reader trembles, because this account unveils something far more demanding: the measure of a life so united to God that it no longer moves by ordinary instinct. Most men protect reputation. Most men avoid scandal. Most men keep a safe distance from misery so that their conscience remains clean and their name untarnished. St. Vitalios of Alexandria did none of this. He entered the place others cursed. He walked into darkness not to taste it, but to burn within it like hidden fire. He labored by day, ate almost nothing, gave his wages away, and spent whole nights standing in prayer for women whom society used, despised, and discarded. While others preached virtue from a distance, he purchased for them one night of freedom and filled that purchased silence with psalms, tears, prostrations, and intercession. This is not recklessness. It is sanctity. The prudent man says: “Protect yourself.” The holy man says: “Lose yourself.” The calculating man asks: “What will people think?” The saint asks: “Who will suffer if I do nothing?” The world calls such love foolish because it cannot recognize anything that does not orbit self-preservation. What made this possible? Not mere compassion. Not personality. Not activism. Not moral zeal. It was hypostatic life: the human person so opened to God that divine love begins to move through human faculties. The man remains man, yet his heart becomes a place where another will acts, another mercy breathes, another courage rises. He does not merely imitate Christ. Christ lives in him. So he can go where others cannot go. He can endure slander without defense. He can accept blows without retaliation. He can bear misunderstanding without explaining himself. He can love those who insult him. He can save those whom others have already condemned. This is why the story wounds us. We do not simply condemn others. We also love within limits. We forgive within limits. We serve within limits. We give when it costs little. We remain charitable so long as our image stays intact. We call this balance, prudence, maturity. Often it is fear wearing respectable clothing. St. Vitalios of Alexandria accepted the loss of reputation as the price of hidden obedience. He let the city think him filthy while heaven knew him radiant. Few can bear this martyrdom. Many would rather be praised for lesser virtues than despised for greater love. And see the fruit. Women were restored. The shameless learned chastity. The fallen found repentance. The violent man became a monk. The condemning city learned fear. The Patriarch gave thanks. One hidden man transformed a multitude. We live in an age obsessed with visibility, explanation, branding, image, and public vindication. We cannot bear to be misunderstood for an afternoon. Yet the saints often accepted misunderstanding for years. Why? Because once the heart belongs wholly to God, reputation becomes dust. The final words of the Elder are written not in ink, but on the ground. Dust speaking to dust: Judge nothing before the time. Not because evil is unreal. Not because discernment is unnecessary. But because what you see is almost never the whole story. The woman you dismiss may be one night from repentance. The man you mock may be a saint in disguise. The soul you slander may be carrying a cross you cannot imagine. And the one you most confidently condemn may be the vessel through whom God is saving many. If you would know whether Christ lives in you, ask not how pious you appear. Ask this: Can you love where there is no reward? Can you serve where you will be misjudged? Can you descend where others recoil? Can you lose your good name for another’s salvation? Can you remain silent while God alone knows? There begins the path of the saints. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:03:39 Janine: Yes 00:04:07 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Evergetinos Volume III page 2 section 2 00:05:06 Janine: Father ..do you think the Holy Spirit is dismantling us throughout our whole life? Or is it a later stage? 00:06:06 Janine: Yes..that makes sense! 00:11:20 Sam: Greetings 🙏 from Australia Father. 00:14:06 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Evergetinos Volume III page 2 section 2 00:15:15 Sam: Quick question Fr. How can we bring love for the Desert Fathers  in our church divided by modernism and other ideologies including sedevacantism 00:16:52 Sam: I often find people including priests aren't interested when I suggest books such as ladder of divine ascent. 00:17:01 Sam: Gday 00:18:59 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Evergetinos Volume III page 2 section 2 00:31:25 Maureen Cunningham: Maybe he saw them as his daughters 00:46:14 Anthony: Should you point out that it's not a great idea for a young person to do this 00:54:54 Kate: I understand what you are saying about being courageous.  What about not wanting to put ourselves in the path of temptation?  Was the monk confident that he would not fall into temptation?  Can we ever be sure that we would not succumb? 00:54:56 Maureen Cunningham: Mother Theresa 00:55:59 Danny Moulton: Years ago a co-worker once invited me to a Bible study and began his invitation with the words, "I don't know if you/re a Christian or not, but if you are ..."  It was one of the most convicting moments of my life. 00:56:13 Joan Chakonas: What’s great about the writing and documentation of these actions of these monks is that it is such a gift of God to set forth the benefits of taking action in spite of the obvious risk. 00:59:49 Janine: Reacted to "What’s great about t…" with 🩷 01:01:08 Joan Chakonas: Reacted to "What’s great about the writing and documentation of these actions of these monks is that it is such a gift of God to set forth the benefits of taking action in spite of the obvious risk." with 🩷 01:02:36 Forrest: That humble monk securely cloaked the women with something greater than Constantine's mantle. 01:07:27 John ‘Jack’: I purchased a new business vehicle recently, it was non descriptive, plain white, I thought for a while about leaving it that way after 35 yrs in business I’m really not that concerned about the advertising aspect, but I had to admit I drove with a bit less professionalism with the blank van  than I otherwise would have.  I’ve since lettered it, for my sanctities sake . 01:08:30 Forrest: Reacted to "I purchased a new bu..." with ❤️ 01:17:51 Sam: Many saints have gone to the gates of hell to save souls. The common denominator is the extent of their holiness, formation and prudence plus virtues 01:20:43 Maureen Cunningham: Thank you Blessing 01:21:17 Andrew Adams: Thanks be to God! Thank you, Father! 01:21:19 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:21:22 Bob Čihák, AZ: Thank you and love you, Father. 01:21:27 Julie: God bless

The Fire That Remains Life in the Spirit After the Collapse of the Religious Self Week II — Remaining in the Fire Without Rebuilding the Self The Spirit as the One Who Teaches Us to Endure ⸻ Opening Invocation O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of blessings and Giver of life, Come and dwell in us, Cleanse us from every impurity, And save our souls, O Good One. ⸻ I. After the Collapse — The More Dangerous Work Begins Last week we spoke of the fire. Of illumination. Of exposure. Of the collapse of the false life. But there is something more dangerous than never entering this fire. It is entering it and then leaving too soon. Because once a man has begun to see once the structures begin to loosen once the illusions begin to fall there arises an almost irresistible need: 1 To stabilize. To regain footing. To become something again. Even if that “something” is humbler. Even if it is quieter. Even if it uses the language of repentance. The self does not disappear easily. It adapts. It reforms. It survives even inside what appears to be its own death. And so the second work of the Spirit is not simply to expose. It is to keep a man in the place where exposure continues. ⸻ II. The Subtle Rebuilding of the Religious Self You will begin to notice this almost immediately. A thought arises: “I understand now.” “I see more clearly.” “I am different than I was.” And these thoughts feel true. They feel justified. They feel like the fruit of grace. 2 But hidden within them is the beginning of reconstruction. Because the ego does not need grand illusions. It can build itself out of something very small. Even the awareness of one’s own brokenness. Even the language of humility. You begin to identify yourself as: The one who sees The one who has suffered The one who is being purified The one who understands the deeper life And without realizing it you have become something again. Subtler. More refined. But still centered in yourself. “Do not trust in your own righteousness.” — cf. Luke 18:9 The Pharisee was not condemned for sin. He was condemned because he became something in his own eyes. And this is the danger now. ⸻ III. The Spirit Leads Into a Place With No Ground The Spirit does something that feels unbearable. 3 He removes not only falsehood but also the ground beneath your feet. You cannot rely on what you once knew. You cannot return to previous ways of praying. You cannot even take comfort in what seems like progress. Everything becomes unstable. And this is not confusion. It is purification. Because as long as a man has ground he stands on himself. Even if that ground is spiritual. Even if it is noble. Even if it is built on real experiences. The Spirit removes this. So that a man learns something new: To stand without standing. To remain without possessing. To live without securing himself. ⸻ IV. The Poverty of Not Knowing There is a kind of darkness here. 4 Not the darkness of sin. But the darkness of not knowing. You no longer know: Where you are. What is happening. Who you are becoming. You cannot interpret your life. You cannot explain your interior state. And the mind resists this violently. Because the mind wants clarity. It wants to define. It wants to grasp. But the Spirit teaches a man to let go of knowing. “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 45/46) Not: Understand and know. Explain and know. Analyze and know. Be still. And this stillness feels like death to the mind. Because the mind loses its authority. ⸻ 5 V. The Prayer That Remains When Everything Else Falls At this stage, prayer changes. It becomes poorer. Simpler. More fragile. You may find that you cannot pray as before. Words feel empty. Thoughts feel forced. Even spiritual reading feels distant. And what remains? Often only this: A cry. Or even less than a cry. A turning. A presence. The Jesus Prayer begins to take on a different character. Not as something you do. But as something you cling to when everything else has fallen away. “Prayer is the refuge of help... a haven that rescues from the tempest.” — St. Isaac the Syrian Not a method. Not a discipline. But a lifeline. 6 And even this may feel dry. And still you remain. ⸻ VI. The Temptation to Interpret the Process One of the greatest dangers here is the need to interpret what is happening. To name it. To define it. To place it within a framework. You begin to say: “This is purification.” “This is the dark night.” “This is growth.” And while these things may not be false they become a way of regaining control. Because once something is named it is contained. And the Spirit resists this containment. He leads a man into something that cannot be mastered. Cannot be reduced. Cannot be explained. Because the goal is not understanding. It is transformation. 7 And transformation often happens in a way that the mind cannot follow. ⸻ VII. The Hidden Work of Endurance What, then, is required? Very little. And everything. Not effort in the way we understand it. But endurance. To remain in prayer even when it feels empty. To remain turned toward God even when nothing is felt. To remain in truth even when it exposes you again and again. This is not passive. It is a quiet, fierce consent. A willingness to be worked upon. A refusal to flee. “In your patience possess your souls.” (Luke 21:19) The fathers speak of this as long-suffering. But we often misunderstand this. It is not merely enduring hardship. It is enduring the work of God within us. 8 ⸻ VIII. The Fear of Losing Everything At some point, a deeper fear emerges. Not just the fear of being seen. But the fear of losing everything. Your sense of self. Your sense of direction. Even your sense of God. Because God Himself may seem hidden. Silent. Distant. And this is where many turn back. Not into sin. But into something safer. Something more defined. Something more manageable. But the Spirit leads further. Into a place where even God is not grasped. But only trusted. “Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68) Not: Lord, I understand. Lord, I feel. Lord, I possess. 9 But: To whom shall we go? There is nowhere else. So we remain. ⸻ IX. The Beginning of True Freedom And slowly, something begins to change. Not dramatically. Not in a way that can be grasped. But subtly. The need to define begins to loosen. The need to possess begins to fade. The need to be something begins to weaken. And a different kind of freedom appears. Not the freedom to act. But the freedom not to construct yourself. A quietness. A simplicity. A lightness. You begin to exist without constantly referring back to yourself. And this is the beginning of life in the Spirit. 10 Not power. Not experience. But freedom from the tyranny of self. ⸻ X. Closing Exhortation Do not flee this place. Do not rush to understand. Do not rebuild what is being taken from you. Remain. Even when you do not know how to remain. Even when prayer feels empty. Even when God feels distant. Remain. Because the Spirit is not absent. He is working more deeply than you can perceive. And what He is forming in you cannot be formed in any other way. ⸻ 11 Closing Prayer Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Thou who didst endure the silence of the Cross, grant us the grace to endure the silence within our own hearts. Teach us to remain when all else falls away. Deliver us from the need to grasp, to define, to become something. And grant that, in losing ourselves, we may find our life hidden in Thee. Amen. 12

There is a sobriety in the Fathers that cuts deeper than anything sentimental, yet within that severity there burns a tenderness that refuses to let the soul perish in despair. St Isaac does not flatter us. He does not pretend that the path of virtue is smooth or that the life in Christ removes conflict. He names things as they are. Falls, compulsions, resistance, long warfare. The soul that sets itself toward God will know all of these, and not once but continually. There is no illusion here of steady ascent without rupture. The one who seeks purity will also know fragmentation. But Isaac draws a line that must never be crossed. There are falls, and then there is the death of the soul. The fall is not the end. It is not even the greatest danger. The true catastrophe is to forget the love of the Father and to abandon the struggle. It is not sin that destroys us in the end, but the turning away from God in despair, the quiet consent that says there is no use in rising again. The Fathers are relentless on this point. Even if a man falls into manifold transgressions, even if each day ends in defeat, still he must not cease. He must rise again, and not reluctantly but with determination, laying once more the foundation of what has been ruined. Not once, not occasionally, but each day. This is where the tenderness of Isaac appears, though it is clothed in the language of battle. He does not demand perfection. He demands endurance. He does not say, do not fall. He says, do not remain fallen. The image he gives is almost unbearable in its honesty. A ship broken, cargo lost, everything swallowed by the deep. And yet he tells us to return again to the sea, to acquire new goods, even to borrow if necessary, and to set out once more in hope. This is not optimism. It is something far more costly. It is trust in the mercy of God that persists even when experience seems to contradict it. Such a man Isaac calls wise. Not the one who has preserved himself from all wounds, but the one who has not cut off his hope. This is the wisdom granted by God. The Admonition of Abba Martinian intensifies this vision. The struggle will be long. The warfare will be fierce. The passions, the world, the demons will not relent. And even the one who is earnest, who desires purity, will stumble. But the command remains unyielding. Do not grow faint-hearted. Do not turn back. Do not surrender your soul to defeat even in the very moment of defeat. There is something profoundly human in this. The Fathers know the shame of falling, the exhaustion of repeated failure, the temptation to withdraw from the battle. They know the voice that says it is useless to continue. And precisely there they speak with the authority of those who have endured. Continue. Even if wounded. Even if humiliated. Even if the fall is visible to all. Continue. For what is truly terrible is not that a man has sinned, but that he has made peace with sin. Not that he has been struck down, but that he has extended his hand to the enemy and accepted defeat as final. In doing so he loses not only the struggle but the very boldness before God, the freedom of prayer, the communion of the righteous. And yet even here the door is not closed unless the soul itself closes it. The entire exhortation rests on this unspoken but ever-present truth. The Father has not withdrawn His love. The light has not ceased to shine. Even in darkness, the Lord remains a light unto us. So the Christian life is not revealed as a steady triumph, but as a continual rising. Not a life without wounds, but a life that refuses to let wounds become a grave. The saints are not those who never fell, but those who would not consent to remain in the dust. This is the fierce consolation of the desert. As long as there is breath, the battle remains. As long as the battle remains, hope remains. And as long as hope remains, the mercy of God has not been exhausted. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:09:15 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 190 para 5 00:31:45 Jessica McHale: Can I ask how to build up these "fundamentals" again without trying to "recreate" the religious self to "improve" ? For me it gets blurry when I think about "disiplines" and inadvertently re-building the "religious self". 00:45:13 Nypaver Clan: Page? 00:46:55 Nypaver Clan: 191…..got it 00:49:32 David Swiderski, WI: I wonder if Meister Eckhardt was capturing the same in his quote-“The only thing that burns in hell is the part of you that won't let go of your life: your memories, your attachments. They burn them all away, but they're not punishing you, they're freeing your soul. If you're frightened of dying and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away. If you've made your peace, then the devils are really angels freeing you from the earth.” 00:56:44 Una: Matt Talbot from Dublin. A layman 01:00:00 David Swiderski, WI: Or the Father Stu movie 01:14:00 David Swiderski, WI: 2 Corinthians 4:17-18: “For our light and momentary affliction is producing for us an eternal glory that far outweighs our troubles. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 01:14:43 Art iPhone: Reacted to "2 Corinthians 4:17-18: “For our light and momentary affliction is producing for us an eternal glory that far outweighs our troubles. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”" with 👍 01:14:50 Janine: “We guard ourselves too carefully from the outward difficulties encountered in giving ourselves over to the will of God, and so we lose the good fruits that are reaped in difficult circumstances endured with humility. “Bishop Nikolai Velimirovic 01:14:54 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "“We guard ourselves ..." with ❤️ 01:15:11 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "2 Corinthians 4:17-1..." with ❤️ 01:20:12 Rebecca Thérèse: Try talking about women saints if you want men to come. At the monastery of Montserrat nr 01:20:27 Janine: That is from Prayers by the lake 01:20:46 Rebecca Thérèse: near Barcelona all the decorations in the church are of female saints😂 01:22:08 Jessica McHale: Thank you, Father! Your words are so very helpful. Praise God. Prayers for you and your mother! 01:22:09 David Swiderski, WI: Thank you Father may God bless you, your mother and this group. 01:22:10 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:22:18 Kevin Burke: Thank You Father! 01:22:28 jonathan: God bless! thank you Father

The Fire That Remains Life in the Spirit After the Collapse of the Religious Self Week I — The Fire That Reveals the False Life Pentecost and the Beginning of the Dismantling in the Spirit ⸻ Opening Invocation O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth, Who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of blessings and Giver of life, Come and dwell in us, Cleanse us from every impurity, And save our souls, O Good One. ⸻ I. The Fire Has Come — And Nothing Remains Hidden Pentecost is not comfort. It is fire. And the tragedy is that most Christians have learned to speak of the Spirit as though He were gentle in a way that leaves us intact. As though He were a consolation that confirms what we already are. But the Spirit who descends at Pentecost is the same Spirit who drove Christ into the wilderness. The same Spirit who descends as tongues of fire rests upon men and begins to undo them. Not improve them. Not refine them. 1 Undo them. Because what we call “the spiritual life” is often nothing more than a refined version of the same self we have always been. Religious. Structured. Disciplined. Even devout. But still centered in itself. Still subtly seeking itself. Still preserving itself. And the Spirit does not come to decorate that life. He comes to expose it. ⸻ II. The First Work of the Spirit — Illumination That Wounds When the Spirit comes, He brings light. But this light is not what we expect. It is not merely the light of understanding. It is not simply insight or clarity. It is the light that shows you what you are. And this is why so many turn away from it. Because the first gift of the Spirit is not consolation. It is truth. “For everyone who does evil hates the light... lest his deeds should be exposed.” (John 3:20) 2 And the truth is unbearable to a heart that has built itself on illusion. You begin to see: That much of your prayer was self-seeking. That your devotion was mixed with vanity. That your desire for God was entangled with a desire to feel something, to be something, to be seen as something. You begin to see how deeply rooted the self is even in your most sacred actions. And this is the moment where everything is decided. Because at this point, a man either: Steps back into illusion and begins again to construct a spiritual identity Or He remains. He allows himself to be seen. And wounded. ⸻ III. The Religious Self Cannot Survive the Spirit The Lenten work began the dismantling. But Pentecost intensifies it. Because now the dismantling is no longer external. It is interior. The Spirit enters the heart and begins to uncover the hidden foundations of the self. 3 Not the obvious sins. Those are easy. But the deeper things: The need to be right. The need to be secure. The need to be recognized. The need to feel that one’s life has coherence and meaning. Even the need to feel that one is progressing spiritually. All of this is brought into the light. And slowly, painfully, it begins to collapse. This is why the fathers speak so rarely of “experiences.” Because the true work of the Spirit is not the giving of experiences. It is the removal of illusions. “The Holy Spirit... shows man his sins.” — St. Silouan the Athonite And this feels like death. Because it is death. ⸻ IV. The Terror of Seeing Without Defenses There comes a moment when the usual defenses no longer work. You cannot console yourself with prayer in the same way. You cannot rely on your thoughts. Even spiritual thoughts begin to feel empty. The structures that once held your life together 4 begin to loosen. And you are left with something you did not expect: Yourself. Not the self you imagined. But the self stripped of its justifications. The self without its narrative. The self that cannot explain itself or defend itself or present itself. And this is terrifying. Because the ego does not fear sin as much as it fears exposure. It would rather remain sick than be seen as it is. But the Spirit does not allow this. He brings a man to the place where he can no longer hide from himself. And this is the beginning of true repentance. ⸻ V. Repentance as Ontological Collapse Repentance is often misunderstood. It is not simply sorrow for sin. It is not even a change of behavior. It is a change in being. A collapse. 5 A realization that what I have called “myself” is not stable, not whole, not real in the way I thought. That it has been constructed through fear, through desire, through imagination. And that it cannot stand in the presence of God. This is why repentance feels like dying. Because something is dying. “A heart that is broken and humbled God will not despise.” (Psalm 50/51) The illusion of self-sufficiency. The illusion of spiritual competence. The illusion that I can come to God as something. The Spirit dismantles all of this. And leaves a man empty. ⸻ VI. The Poverty the Spirit Creates And here is the paradox: This emptiness is not abandonment. It is the first true gift. Because only a poor heart can receive God. As long as a man is full of himself even in subtle ways he cannot receive the Spirit. He can speak about Him. He can think about Him. He can even feel things that he attributes to Him. 6 But he cannot receive Him. Because the Spirit does not dwell in a heart that is occupied. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 5:3) So the Spirit empties. Gently at times. Violently at others. But always with precision. Until a man stands before God without pretense. Without claims. Without identity. Simply present. ⸻ VII. The Refusal to Escape At this stage, the greatest temptation is escape. Not into obvious sin. But into something far more subtle: Reconstruction. You begin to rebuild. A slightly humbler version of yourself. A more “spiritual” identity. A narrative that explains your suffering and gives it meaning. 7 And this is where the process is lost. Because the ego can rebuild itself even out of its own dismantling. “He who trusts in himself is a fool.” (Proverbs 28:26) It can take the language of humility and turn it into a new identity. It can take the experience of emptiness and make it into something to possess. And so the call here is severe: Do not rebuild. Remain in the poverty. Remain in the not-knowing. Remain in the exposure. This is where the Spirit works. ⸻ VIII. The Spirit Does Not Hurry We want resolution. We want clarity. We want to arrive. But the Spirit does not work according to our timelines. He is patient. Because He is not forming an experience. He is forming a person. 8 And this cannot be rushed. So there are long periods where nothing seems to happen. Where prayer feels dry. Where understanding does not increase. Where the heart feels empty. But something is happening. Deep beneath the surface. The roots of the self are being loosened. Attachments are being severed. The ground is being prepared. “Without temptations no one can be saved.” — St. Isaac the Syrian And this hidden work is more real than anything we can perceive. ⸻ IX. The Beginning of Life in the Spirit This is where life in the Spirit begins. Not in power. Not in clarity. But in poverty. A heart that no longer trusts itself. A mind that no longer clings to its own thoughts. A will that begins to soften. This is the beginning. And it is fragile. 9 Because everything in us wants to return to something more solid. Something more definable. But the Spirit leads us into a different kind of life. A life that is not built on possession but on dependence. Not on certainty but on trust. Not on identity but on relationship. ⸻ X. Closing Exhortation Do not be afraid of what the Spirit reveals. Do not turn away when you begin to see yourself. Do not rush to rebuild what He is dismantling. Remain. Even if it feels like death. Especially then. Because this is not destruction. It is purification. It is the beginning of truth. And the heart that endures this fire 10 will come to know something that cannot be taken away: Not a constructed self. But a life hidden in Christ. ⸻ Closing Prayer Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, send down Thy Holy Spirit upon us. Burn away every illusion. Expose every falsehood. Strip us of everything that is not of Thee. Grant us the courage to remain in the poverty Thou givest. That, emptied of ourselves, we may be filled with Thy life. Amen. ⸻ 11

The Fathers bring us to a place where the soul is stripped of every illusion about itself.   We imagine that we see clearly. We imagine that we understand others. We imagine that our words are necessary. And they tell us plainly. Be silent. A brother burns with the thought that he must speak, must reveal, must correct. Yet the Elder cuts through this urgency without hesitation. Say nothing. The Lord will take care of it. This is not indifference. This is faith. We speak because we do not trust God. We intervene because we believe that without us truth will not prevail. Beneath much of what we call zeal lies anxiety for ourselves and a hidden desire to justify our own heart. The Fathers do not negotiate with this. Silence is safer than righteousness mixed with passion. And if a brother has been exposed, even unjustly, how is he to respond? Not with self defense. Not with resentment. Not even with a demand for justice. He is to believe that the one who spoke did so for his good. This is a word that wounds the heart. To receive accusation as love. To give thanks for what humbles. To increase in love for the one who has caused pain. This is not psychology. This is the Cross. The one who lives in this way makes swift progress because he has stepped outside the logic of the world. He no longer defends an identity. He entrusts himself entirely to God. And so correction itself is transformed. The Fathers do not permit harshness born of agitation. If the heart is disturbed, the mouth must remain closed. Words spoken in turmoil do not heal. They infect. One must wait. Wait until the heart becomes still. Wait until peace returns. Then speak quietly, as if into the ear of the brother. Even here there is no formula. One must discern the soul before him. One must become small. One must abandon the authority that comes from position and take on the authority that comes from humility. And even then, correction may not be received. It does not matter. One has done what is given. God will do what remains. The Fathers expose something deeper still. Even acts of humility can be poisoned. A prostration can be filled with vainglory. Silence can conceal indifference. Authority can corrupt the mind without being noticed. Pride, the sense of power, and vainglory move quietly within everything. If these are not despised, nothing bears fruit. So the soul stands in a narrow place. Do not speak out of passion. Do not remain silent out of negligence. Do not correct to justify yourself. Do not humble yourself to be seen. There is no resting place here. Only vigilance. Only repentance. Only the slow purification of the heart. And then the Fathers place before us a final blow to our presumption. A monk is seen with a woman. He is judged. He is condemned. He is beaten. Even a saint is deceived. The Patriarch believes he is acting with zeal. The accusers believe they are protecting righteousness. All are certain. All are wrong. The truth is hidden. The monk bears wounds without protest. His life is pure. His intention is love. He carries a soul toward Christ while others condemn him in the name of Christ. This is the blindness of the fallen mind. We see appearances. We draw conclusions. We act with confidence. And we wound the righteous. Only when God Himself reveals the truth does the illusion collapse. And what is revealed is terrifying in its simplicity. There are servants of God hidden everywhere. Unknown. Misunderstood. Condemned. And we pass judgment on them with ease. The monk refuses even the gift offered to him. If a monk has faith, he has no need of money. If he loves money, he has lost faith. His freedom exposes everyone. His silence judges without speaking. His life reveals that the Kingdom of God is not what we imagine. The Fathers leave us with nothing to hold onto except this. Guard your tongue. Distrust your judgment. Humble yourself in all things. And entrust everything to God. Because the moment we believe that we see clearly, we have already fallen into darkness. And the moment we cease to defend ourselves and others before God, something begins to open.A way of seeing that is not our own. A love that does not accuse. A silence in which God Himself speaks. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:22:28 jonathan: 1 John 5:16-17 If anyone sees his brother sinning, if the sin is not deadly, he should pray to God and he will give him life. This is only for those whose sin is not deadly. There is such a thing as deadly sin, about which I do not say that you should pray. All wrongdoing is sin, but there is sin that is not deadly. 00:27:25 Julie: Good book Searching for and maintaining peace by Father Jacques Philippe 00:28:50 jonathan: Yes it was Paul, he mentioned it in both 1 Timothy 1:19–20 and 1 Corinthians 5:5 00:34:46 Forrest: The Greek word here is not usually one for "Sin". It is more like making mistakes, as far as I read it. 00:42:13 Erick Chastain: Elder Aimilianos says that for some characters to be gentle with them is to make them a demon. 00:56:26 Joan Chakonas: Interesting that there are very few situations when in the course of my lay life I am called upon to make correction of another.  I hope that if such a need arises I find a way to do it- with Gods guidance-because I sort of approach my duty to God like my job here on earth and I have to make it happen.  I imagine the need for correction arises out of a need to avoid harm to a third party. 01:00:00 Kevin Burke: I wrote down that we started volume 2 on 11/27/23 01:14:18 Julie: It reminds me of the story of the monk that was an alcoholic and died. 01:16:31 Joan Chakonas: My takeaway was how easy it is to make a wildly wrong judgment . 01:18:46 Lorraine: Thank you 01:18:49 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:18:55 Andrew Adams: Thanks be to God! Thank you, Father! 01:18:58 Joan Chakonas: Thanks Father! 01:19:01 Kevin Burke: Thank You Father! 01:19:06 Jessica McHale: Thank you! Many prayers!!!!! 01:19:16 jonathan: Thanks Father, God bless❤️ 01:19:29 Caroline: Thank you ♥️

We want to help. We want to fix. We want to speak the right word at the right time and be the instrument of someone’s healing. And hidden beneath all of it, almost always, is something far less pure. We do not trust that God can work without us. ⸻ The Fathers cut through this illusion without mercy, but not without compassion. A man begins to speak and sees that his heart is stirred by vainglory. Not always in the moment. Sometimes afterward. The sweetness comes later. The memory of being useful. Of being seen. Of being right. So he asks the obvious question. Should I remain silent? The Elder refuses the simplicity of that escape. Silence is not purity if it is chosen to protect one’s image. Speech is not corruption if it is offered in obedience. The issue is not whether you speak or remain silent. The issue is whether you are willing to be exposed. If a word must be spoken for the sake of another, then speak it. But do not pretend you are clean. Do not wait until your heart is free of vainglory. It will not be. Speak, and then stand before God and accuse yourself. “I spoke with vainglory.” This is the path. Not control. Not perfection. But truth. ⸻ We prefer another way. We want to purify our motives before acting. We want to feel clean before we speak. We want to be certain that what we say is necessary, righteous, even indispensable. This is fantasy. It is a refined form of pride. ⸻ The Fathers show us something far more severe. There are times when speaking is required. There are times when silence is required. And we are rarely capable of discerning which is which on our own. So we are placed under obedience. When something disturbs us, we assume it must be addressed. We feel the agitation in the heart and call it discernment. We speak to relieve ourselves and call it charity. The Elder names it plainly. If you speak to quiet your own heart, you have already fallen. This is devastating. Because it exposes how much of what we call concern is nothing more than self-protection. We do not want the discomfort. We do not want the tension. We do not want to suffer the presence of what is unresolved. So we speak. Not to heal. But to escape. ⸻ And when others are disturbed, we cloak ourselves even more skillfully. “I am speaking for them.” The Fathers do not deny that responsibility exists. But they strip it of illusion. You are not the healer. You are not the judge. You are not the one who must set things right. Bring it to the Abba. Submit it. Be freed from the illusion that everything depends on your intervention. This is where our resistance intensifies. Because submission feels like passivity. And passivity feels like failure. But what we are being asked to surrender is not action. It is control. ⸻ There is also fear. “If I speak, he will hate me.” The Elder calls this thought what it is. Evil. Not because the fear is imaginary, but because it shifts the center away from God to human reaction. It makes peace, reputation, and emotional safety the measure of truth. The image is stark. A sick man resents the physician. But the physician does not stop the treatment. If you are to act, act in God. Not to be liked. Not to be justified. Not to be safe. ⸻ And then the final blow. What if you see clearly that your desire to speak is poisoned? That you want to accuse, to expose, to correct in a way that elevates yourself? Then do not pretend. Do not remain silent in false righteousness. Do not speak in hidden judgment. Confess your sickness. Go to the Abba and say, “I want to accuse. I cannot purify my heart.” Now something real can begin. Not only the healing of your brother. But your own. ⸻ This is the truth we resist. God is not waiting for our perfect words. He is not dependent upon our interventions. He is not hindered by our silence. But He will not heal the heart that refuses to be seen as it is. ⸻ We want to be useful. The Fathers want us to be honest. Because only the honest man can be entrusted with speech. And only the one who has relinquished control can remain silent without bitterness. ⸻ In the end, the question is not this: Should I speak or remain silent? The question is this: Am I willing to let God work without securing a place for myself in the outcome? Until that is answered, both our silence and our speech will remain infected. And yet, even this is not the end. Speak when you must. Remain silent when you must. And in both, stand before God and say the only true word: “I am not pure. Have mercy.” --- Text of chat during the group: 00:02:58 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 373 Volume II number 4 00:07:46 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 373, # 4, top paragraph 00:09:54 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 00:14:14 Janine: Christ is Risen! 00:15:07 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 00:15:19 Bob Čihák, AZ: American English translation: You BET He's risen!!! 00:16:09 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 373, # 4, top paragraph 00:23:53 Maureen Cunningham: Job He get up and makes sac fries for his children . In case they would sin 00:58:22 John ‘Jack’: Some of the best council I’ve ever received was “you’re in a difficult situation” it wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it gave me immense clarity. 01:19:11 Danny Moulton: It seems that tonight's learnings require a great deal of trust that  God can handle another person's shortcomings without our "invaluable" help. 01:19:25 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "It seems that tonigh..." with 👍 01:20:11 Una: Reacted to "It seems that toni..." with 👍 01:21:42 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you. Happy Easter everyone!☺️ 01:21:45 Bob Čihák, AZ: Bless you, Father. 01:22:14 Jessica McHale: Many prayers to you and our mom!

There is a clarity in the Fathers that we often resist because it leaves us no place to hide. They do not flatter the human condition. They do not soften the reality of sin. They do not pretend that the spiritual life is anything other than a battle that reaches into the depths of our thoughts, our desires, our bodies, and our will. They name things as they are. We are weak. We are unstable. We are easily turned. Even when we desire the good, we fail to do it. Even when we hate sin, we fall into it. And yet, they are not severe in the way the world is severe. Because at the heart of their vision is not condemnation, but God. Hope in Him is the foundation of everything. Not hope in ourselves. Not hope in our effort, our consistency, or our understanding. But hope in the One who “abundantly pours forth righteousness,” and in whom there is no injustice. This hope is not sentimental. It is forged precisely in the experience of our instability. It is born when every illusion about ourselves begins to collapse, and we see that if we are to live, it must be by His mercy alone. This is why God permits what we fear. St. Isaac speaks with a boldness that unsettles us: the insults, the illnesses, the humiliations, the intrusive thoughts, the warfare of the demons, the instability of mind and body—these are not signs of abandonment. They are gifts, though bitter ones. They are the means by which the heart is broken open, by which prayer becomes real, by which a man is drawn out of himself and made to cry out to God without distraction. God wounds in order to heal. Not arbitrarily. Not cruelly. But because without this, we would remain imprisoned in negligence, in pride, in the quiet assumption that we are capable of sustaining ourselves. Humility, then, is not a virtue we adopt. It is the truth revealed in us when we see our condition clearly. It is the knowledge that we are created, changeable, dependent—that at any moment we can fall, that we cannot preserve ourselves, that we require the power of another for even the smallest good. And this knowledge, if it is embraced, becomes the door to everything. Because the one who knows his weakness will not trust himself. And the one who does not trust himself will begin to trust God. This is the beginning of the path—and the way one remains on it. For as soon as we forget this, we fall into negligence. And negligence is not simply laziness; it is a kind of spiritual sleep, a dulling of the heart, a quiet turning away from vigilance. And when this happens, St. Isaac tells us something that pierces deeply: we are handed over. Not as punishment in the human sense, but as awakening. We are allowed to fall into the very things that reveal us to ourselves. The thoughts we thought we had conquered return. The passions we thought were gone reappear. The weakness we ignored becomes undeniable. And in this, we are shaken—not to destroy us, but to rouse us from illusion. So that we might begin again, but this time in truth. And here the Fathers make a distinction that is as compassionate as it is exacting. Not all sin is the same. There are sins born of weakness, of ignorance, of habit, of the long war within the flesh. There are sins that wound the heart precisely because they are not desired, that bring grief, that provoke tears, that drive a man back to God. And near to such a man, St. Isaac says, mercy is undoubtedly present. But there is another path. The path of negligence embraced. The path where a man abandons the struggle, not because he is weak, but because he no longer wishes to fight. Where he becomes inventive in sin, obedient to it, even zealous for it. Where repentance is postponed, ignored, or despised. This is the tragedy. Not that we fall, but that we cease to care that we have fallen. The Fathers are unyielding here. Because love demands truth. The measure is not perfection, but direction. Not sinlessness, but the heart’s orientation. Does a man grieve his fall? Does he turn again? Does he remain in the arena, even if wounded, even if ashamed, even if confused? If so, he is not far from God. And so the word that emerges from all of this is both fierce and consoling. Give thanks for everything. Not because everything is good in itself, but because God uses everything for our healing. Even our falls, when met with repentance, become a place of encounter. Even our weakness becomes a teacher. Even the most bitter experiences, when received with faith, become the ground of humility, and therefore of grace. Blame yourself, says Isaac—not in despair, not in self-hatred, but in truth. Refuse to accuse God. Refuse to abandon the struggle. Refuse to let your fall become a justification for further distance. Remain. This is the radical vision. A man stripped of illusion. A man who knows his weakness. A man who endures the warfare. A man who falls and rises, falls and rises again. A man who gives thanks in all things. A man who entrusts himself entirely to the mercy of God. Such a man, though wounded, is being healed. Such a man, though weak, is being sanctified. Such a man, though nothing in himself, is held by the goodness and love of God—and will not be lost. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:01:19 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 187 paragraph 10 00:05:15 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 00:06:57 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/to-become-fire-and-person 00:12:58 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 187 paragraph 10 00:13:27 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 00:13:43 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/to-become-fire-and-person 00:22:57 Jessica McHale: So, if a person has fear/anxiety about something in their life, coudl it be that the fear/anxiety someoen feels is God's way to humble us to trust in Him rather than give in to the fear? Is fear a way to humble us so we have total trust in Him? 00:43:05 Maureen Cunningham: Anger would be passion  that is a habbit 00:43:08 Erick Chastain: An instance of this: I  sometimes hear secular people in the world say things like "my patience has its limits". People in the world have very low standards sometimes. 00:43:17 Eleana Urrego: One of the promises of the rosary praying is be deliverance from addictions and obsessions. 00:48:05 David Swiderski, WI: A spiritual director had used to quote Oscar Wilde- We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell . Adding Christ came to save us from ourselves. 00:48:28 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "A spiritual director..." with 👍🏼 00:49:22 Una: Can you unpack "hypostatic person" a bit? Thanks. 00:49:35 Eleana Urrego: Hell is absence of God 00:49:54 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "Can you unpack "hypo..." with 👍🏼 00:51:14 David Swiderski, WI: It is not I that live but Christ in me 01:02:03 Elizabeth Richards: Back to humility of heart 01:02:16 Elizabeth Richards: dependence 01:04:59 David Swiderski, WI: That's just the way I am is how I see this expressed 01:07:14 Eleana Urrego: Father, when you say not to excuse praying time, it might also sound like it's up to me to become a saint by my own effort, and that might be religious pride, as you mention in the retreat. 01:11:19 Aaron Johnson: Hi Father, would any form of laxity in prayer/spiritual life due to physical fatigue (physical illness for example), how can one discern if their laxity is either due to weakness or from religious pride? 01:15:31 Elizabeth Richards: When is the retreat? 01:16:12 Eleana Urrego: wow I was not aware, thanks 01:16:17 Kate: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 01:17:18 Elizabeth Richards: Thanks! The Lenten Retreats have been powerful. 01:18:28 Maureen Cunningham: Thank You 01:18:58 Jessica McHale: Many prayers, blessings, and grace from our great God!!!! 01:18:59 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:19:00 David Swiderski, WI: Thank you Father may God bless you, your Mother and this group. 01:19:03 Bob Čihák, AZ: Love you and thank you, Father. 01:19:09 Aaron Johnson: Thank you!

There is a humility that we speak about. And there is a humility that is given. The first is clean. Understandable. Manageable. The second is devastating. Saint Isaac does not speak of an idea. He speaks of a man who has seen something in himself, not once, but repeatedly, until illusion collapses. “A man who has reached this in truth and not in fancy…” This is the dividing line. Most of what we call humility is still fantasy. A posture. A tone. A self-perception. But true humility is born only when a man has been brought face to face with his own instability, his own powerlessness, his own inability to sustain even the smallest good without God. Not conceptually. Existentially. ⸻ This is why Isaac says that everything begins with the recognition of one’s weakness. Not as an idea. But as a state of being. A man comes to see that he cannot hold himself together. He cannot secure his own heart. He cannot even pray without distraction, without resistance, without collapse. And from this recognition, something begins to cry out. Not beautifully. Not eloquently. But desperately. Out of need. Out of poverty. Out of a knowledge that if God does not draw near, he will fall apart. This is the beginning of real prayer. Not devotion. Dependence. ⸻ And yet here is the scandal. God does not always respond as we expect. He draws near . . . yes. But not always by removing the trial. Not always by granting the request. Sometimes He withholds. Not out of indifference, but out of wisdom. Because the very delay becomes the means by which the soul is held near Him. Isaac dares to say that God defers His help so that the man will not depart. So that he will remain in prayer. Remain in need. Remain in proximity. This is not cruelty. It is a love that refuses to let the soul return to self-sufficiency. ⸻ And more troubling still: God permits temptation. Not always. But at times. The assault comes. The fire burns. The instability is exposed again. And the man cries out: Why? Why does God not remove this? Why does He allow this struggle to continue? Isaac answers with a severity we would rather avoid: So that you may learn war. So that you may be instructed. So that you may know. Not in theory, but in experience; that without Him, you are nothing. ⸻ This is where humility is forged. Not in peace. But in exposure. Not in success. But in repeated failure. Not in clarity. But in the confusion of being unable to sustain oneself. The man who does not know this, Isaac says, walks on a razor’s edge. He may appear stable. Even virtuous. But he stands near the lion. The demon of pride. Because without the knowledge of one’s weakness, the soul inevitably attributes its stability to itself. And this is the beginning of the fall. ⸻ Humility cannot be acquired directly. It cannot be chosen as a virtue. It must be given through conditions that undo the illusion of strength. Through delay. Through struggle. Through temptation. Through the repeated discovery that one is not what one thought. This is why Isaac says that humility is acquired only by humility’s own means. Which is to say: By being brought low. By being shown the truth. By having the inner architecture of conceit quietly dismantled. ⸻ And here the most piercing word emerges. Without humility, a man’s work is not perfected. Even if it appears good. Even if it appears fruitful. It does not rise above fear. It is not sealed by the Spirit. It remains within the realm of the self. Unstable. Vulnerable. Unfounded. Because only humility forms the foundation that cannot be shaken. A city built on humility stands. A life built on anything else trembles. ⸻ And so we must ask: What if the very things we are trying to escape, the delay, the dryness, the temptation, the instability, are the very means by which God is drawing us near? What if the unanswered prayer is the mercy? What if the struggle that does not cease is the protection? What if the exposure of our weakness is the only way we will ever become real? ⸻ We want relief. God desires communion. We want stability. God gives us Himself. And He will not allow us to possess Him as long as we believe we can stand without Him. ⸻ The widow cries out before the unjust judge. Relentlessly. Without dignity. Without restraint. Because she knows she has no other hope. Isaac places this image before us for a reason. This is the posture of the humble man. Not composed. Not self-contained. But persistent. Needy. Unashamed. Because he has seen the truth. ⸻ In the end, humility is not thinking less of oneself. It is knowing, without illusion, that one cannot live without God. And not merely knowing it, but remaining there. In prayer. In need. In trembling. Afraid not of punishment, but of losing the nearness of God. ⸻ This is the paradox. The man who is weak becomes unshakable. Because his life is no longer founded on himself. But on the One who draws near to the broken. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:01:00 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 186 para 5 00:07:13 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 186, #5, second paragraph 00:07:51 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://mailchi.mp/f5f7aa457031/bb0iyi082g 00:08:20 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Registration link for retreat 00:13:56 John ‘Jack’: Will join you in spirit Father 00:14:32 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://mailchi.mp/f5f7aa457031/bb0iyi082g 00:17:51 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 186, #5, second paragraph 00:19:32 Eleana Urrego: Page? 00:20:15 Eleana Urrego: please 00:20:28 David Swiderski, WI: P 186, #5, second paragraph 00:21:35 Eleana Urrego: Replying to "P 186, #5, second pa..." Thank you! 00:30:15 Ben: Anna: Father, in theory I understand not seeking out distractions and being present in the reality, but what about when one's reality is unbearable?  When we're exhausted, sick, unable to read or think deeply and even vocal prayer is heavy?  How does one direct that restlessness towards God? 00:30:21 Adam Paige: Speaking of repentance and uprooting the passions.. a very blessed feast of Saint Mary of Egypt to all ☦️ 00:44:32 Jessica McHale: Reacted to "Speaking of repent..." with ❤️ 00:45:28 John ‘Jack’: When folks  ask “how are you” lately rather than saying a half hearted “good.” I say “better today than yesterday, better tomorrow than today” I catches them delightfully off guard and opens some wonderful conversations 00:45:39 David Swiderski, WI: This reminds me of a story common in Latin America and not far from the truth of many humble and simple people I encountered in churches which always inspires me. 00:45:49 David Swiderski, WI: A priest was walking through the church at noon. Passing the altar, he decided to stay nearby to see who came to pray. The door opened and he frowned as a man walked down the aisle—unshaven, wearing a torn shirt and a worn‑out coat with frayed edges. The man knelt briefly, bowed his head, then left. For several days, always at noon, the same man entered, knelt for a moment, and walked out. The priest, uneasy, began to suspect he might be a thief. One day he stopped him and asked what he was doing. The man explained he worked nearby and had only a short lunch break, so he came to pray. “I only stay a moment,” he said. “The factory is far, so I kneel and say: ‘Lord, I just came again to tell you, Jesus, how happy I am when you free me from my sins. I don’t know how to pray well, but I think of you every day. So Jesus, this is Jaime reporting.’” 00:58:49 John ‘Jack’: I’ve recently heard (Ren; in one your older conferences, sorry Father 😬) that Gods grace is often most evident in the “tension” of life.  Life v death Having v desiring Peace v turmoil  So on. 00:59:27 John ‘Jack’: Replying to "I’ve recently heard …" Agreed. She is 01:03:22 Eleana Urrego: Because in Spanish is different "do not let us fall into tentation" 01:03:52 Una: Maybe "lead us not into temptation" could be better thought of as "leave us not in temptation"? 01:05:46 David Swiderski, WI: I had a mentor that always said when I said I have a problem to come back in and say "I have an opportunity to overcome and succeed at xyz" 01:06:16 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "I had a mentor that ..." with 👍🏼 01:06:26 Ben: Anna: if we understand that we will certainly fall if we are allowed to be tempted then we will perhaps beg God not to let us come to that. 01:06:32 ROBERT IAROPOLI: Reacted to "I had a mentor tha..." with 👍 01:12:12 Mary: Constant prayer: Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner. 01:12:27 Jacqulyn Dudasko: Reacted to "Constant prayer: Lor..." with 👍 01:14:34 Janine: Always praying for you Father! 01:15:12 Elizabeth Richards: Thank you Father!  Исус воскресне! 01:15:15 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:15:16 Jessica McHale: fruitful holy week and many prayers 01:15:16 David Swiderski, WI: Thank you Father, may God bless you, your mother and this group 01:15:17 ROBERT IAROPOLI: Thank you Father! 01:15:44 Maureen Cunningham: Thank you a Blessed Easter to all, Thank You 01:15:50 Paul Grazal: Great !  Thanks Father

There is a form of speech that wears the mask of righteousness and yet is born entirely of death. The Fathers tear this mask from our face. Mariam spoke what was true and was struck with leprosy. Truth did not save her. Because truth, when mixed with accusation, becomes poison. This is the terror. You may be right. You may see clearly. You may even discern accurately the fault of another. And still be condemned. Because the issue is not correctness. The issue is the heart. The Fathers do not ask “Was it true?” They ask “Why did you speak?” ⸻ The soul that delights in exposing another is already diseased. And God, in His terrible mercy, sometimes makes visible what is hidden. Mariam’s flesh became white with corruption because her heart had already been corrupted. Her body told the truth that her tongue had concealed. The outward man became a mirror of the inward. This is the judgment of God. Not punishment as we imagine it but revelation. The hidden made visible. The secret made undeniable. ⸻ You think your words are small. A single remark. A passing judgment. A quiet disclosure. But the Fathers say this is not small. This is participation in the fall itself. The serpent did not strike Eve with violence. He spoke. And she listened. Calumny is not merely speech. It is communion with the serpent. ⸻ And yet the Fathers do not leave us in silence. They show a path but it is narrow and almost unbearable. To speak of another’s sin may be necessary. But only under obedience. Only for healing. Only without passion. Only as one who trembles. Anything else is self-deception. Even the desire to justify yourself to prove that you spoke “out of love” is already corruption. Why do you need to be seen as righteous? Why do you need to be understood? This too is vainglory. ⸻ The true man of God hides himself. If he must speak he speaks as an instrument not as a judge. If he sins he condemns himself first. If he wounds another he falls before him and confesses without excuse. If the other does not know he remains silent and weeps before God alone. He does not “clarify.” He does not “explain.” He does not protect his image. Because he has renounced himself. ⸻ The Fathers reveal something we do not want to see. We do not speak to heal. We speak to elevate ourselves. Even our “discernment” is often nothing more than refined pride. We divide the Body of Christ and call it righteousness. We expose our brother and call it truth. We poison love and call it zeal. ⸻ But look at Mariam. Separated from her brother her own body became divided. Her flesh turned against her because her heart had turned against another. Division always returns to the one who creates it. This is the law of the spiritual life. ⸻ Life in Christ is not moral correctness. It is union. Union with God. Union with one another. And this union is so delicate so holy that even a single word spoken wrongly can tear it. ⸻ Therefore the Fathers cry out: Either rebuke with tears and trembling under obedience and love or remain silent. There is no middle ground. Because the tongue reveals the heart. And the heart will be judged. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:03:26 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 370 00:11:16 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: https://www.philokaliaministries.org/post/the-fire-that-remains 00:13:05 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 370, first paragraph 00:14:20 Jessica McHale: Sounds great! 00:28:01 Una: "It was like something you read in the newspaper," said Brendan Gleeson. Boom! LIke a Flannery O'Connor story (The Misfit). 00:31:58 jonathan: How do you bear the weight of the worlds sadness. I used to justify my detachment, by saying that if i had to 'consume' all the sadness and evil in the world, it would ruin me.  I cannot imagine how anyone could bear psychologically, the weight of the worlds evil. It would break the average man. 00:37:56 Forrest: What sadness do we know from natural means? Compared to unnatural (technological) means? When we detach from concentrated news feeds we are able to recognize the relationships close to us, and enter into THAT sadness, not the global world. 00:40:23 Lee Graham: Reacted to "What sadness do we k…" with ❤️ 00:40:54 Danny Moulton: In some sense sadness at a distance is safe sadness. 00:45:09 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 371, A 01:03:27 John ‘Jack’: Sounds like we are being told to be meek and humble of ❤️ 01:14:42 Jason Fischer: When we are judgmental in a critical or self righteous way, aren't we attempting to play God? 01:19:46 iPad (2): That is wonderful! Thank you Father! 01:19:49 Paul Grazal: Look forward to it. 01:20:08 Maureen Cunningham: Thank you Blessing to all 01:20:51 Andrew Adams: Thanks be to God! Thank you, Father! 01:20:53 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:20:58 Jessica McHale: Thank You!!! Many, many, any Prayers! 01:20:59 jonathan: God bless you Fr 01:21:18 Bob Čihák, AZ: Bless you, Father. 01:21:19 Paul Grazal: good nite

“A heart that is broken and humbled, God will not despise.” ⸻ A man begins in need. Not in strength. Not in clarity. Not in light. He begins in the knowledge that he cannot sustain himself. That something is lacking. That without help from above he will collapse inward upon his own poverty. So he prays. Not once, but many times. Not with ease, but with insistence. He multiplies prayers because he feels his need multiplying within him. And in this repetition something begins to happen that he did not plan. His heart is broken. Not by violence, but by truth. For no man can stand long in supplication without being humbled. To beg is already to descend. To entreat is already to abandon self-sufficiency. And so the heart, once scattered and wandering, begins to be gathered. Humility draws it inward. It ceases to roam because it has found its place. The low place. And there, suddenly, everything changes. Mercy encircles him. Not as an idea, not as a consolation imagined, but as a presence that moves within him. A quiet strength. An assurance not born of reasoning. He perceives that help has come. That Another is acting. That he is no longer alone within himself. And this perception gives birth to faith. He understands now what prayer is. Not words cast into the air. Not effort straining toward heaven. But refuge. Shelter. Light. A staff in weakness. A shield in battle. A harbor in the storm. Everything he sought elsewhere is found here, hidden within this turning of the heart toward God. Prayer is no longer something he does. It becomes something he enters. And then, without warning, it becomes joy. The labor ceases. The heaviness lifts. The tongue that once struggled now moves with ease, or falls silent altogether. For the heart itself has begun to pray. It overflows. It glistens with assurance. It burns with a quiet knowledge that cannot be spoken. And from this burning, thanksgiving erupts. Not as duty. Not as obligation. But as astonishment. The soul, seized by the nearness of God, cannot contain itself. It bows, it trembles, it gives thanks. Sometimes in silence. Sometimes with a cry. Sometimes with a whisper that is more flame than sound. This is the prayer that is given. Not achieved. Not mastered. Given. And here the Christian life is revealed for what it truly is. Not discipline alone. Not struggle alone. But joy. A joy that is born only in the humbled heart. A joy that the world does not know. A joy that rises from the knowledge that God Himself has drawn near, and that all things are now held within Him. If you would learn to pray, do not seek words. Descend. Let your heart be broken. Remain there. And you will find that prayer is already waiting for you, not as effort, but as fire, as refuge, as joy that sends up thanksgiving without end. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:01:18 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 185 paragraph 2 00:13:05 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 185 paragraph 2 00:14:16 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: Page 185 paragraph 2 00:15:57 Bob Čihák, AZ: P. 185, 2 00:18:24 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "P. 185, 2" with 👍🏼 00:28:09 Kathryn Rose: Mary as co-redemptrix 00:28:14 Eleana Urrego: Mary is the supplicant omnipotence. 00:31:36 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "Mary as co-redemptri..." with ❤️ 00:32:03 Jessica McHale: i think a sign of deepenied relationship with God is that prayer become joyful. It's like checkiing in during the day with a spouse and coming home at night to spouse, waking up to a spouse. I see Issac's point about humbling, but it can be a joyful humbling and sign of great trust and love. 00:36:11 Kevin Burke: Reacted to "Mary as co-redemptri…" with ❤️ 00:43:38 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 186, #4, first paragraph 00:49:09 Kathryn Rose: Joyful /ecstatic prayer is like god praying within us rather then us praying to god 00:49:52 Maureen Cunningham: Treasury of assurance could say a little 00:50:01 Eleana Urrego: Pray is how my heart breaths 00:50:19 Kate: Is this joy something other than psychological joy?  A joy that is not necessarily felt on a psychological level? 00:55:19 John ‘Jack’: I’d recently spoken to a man (an unbeliever) ; who had a believer friend come to his fathers funeral, he said the freind had a joy about him that actually changed him more than anything else ever had before. 00:56:23 John ‘Jack’: Yes 00:56:38 Maureen Cunningham: Pearl of great price 00:56:47 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "I’d recently spoken ..." with 😯 00:59:31 David Swiderski, WI: If you look back to the early church it was seeing love and joy that brought people to God. A spiritual director early in my life asked me "how many candles" have you lit for good things that have happened- getting a job, some blessing and how many asking for help for yourself or others. Love is rushing to share all good things with beloved as well as sharing our burdens. 01:00:59 Kathryn Rose: Yurodstvo is a Russian term for "holy foolishness" - becoming foolish for God 01:02:08 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "Yurodstvo is a Russi..." with ❤️ 01:02:47 John ‘Jack’: Was just thinking today how so many of us will question why this “bad thing” happens, yet if we count them against our many blessings (which we often do not) it’s insignificant, just uncomfortable for us, so don’t like it. 01:05:37 Joan Chakonas: From My 51 years in the secular world I can attest to a zero apprehension of life with Christ; it is really hard to describe. But upon my first communion in 2012 it literally radically changed my life.  Overnight I felt the Eucharist and I became a daily communicant.  A completely different life ever since. 01:06:10 John ‘Jack’: Reacted to "From My 51 years in …" with ❤️ 01:06:12 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "From My 51 years in ..." with ❤️ 01:12:03 Kathryn Rose: I am learning how to pray different psalters, which I'm finding is a completely different than regular prayer. What is the purpose of psalter? 01:14:57 David Swiderski, WI: It helped me to understand the psalms a simple book Psalm basics for Catholics really helped me by John Bergsma. They are grouped. The book can be understood for kids as well. 01:14:58 John ‘Jack’: That’s the one I use, every day 01:15:24 Anna: Praying Psalter for a single night discussion 01:16:41 Maureen Cunningham: Thank You 01:17:16 Andrew Adams: Thanks be to God! Thank you, Father! 01:17:20 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:17:27 Art: Thank you Father! 01:17:34 David Swiderski, WI: Thank you father, may God bless you, your mother and this group. 01:17:47 Anna: Lol 01:17:47 John ‘Jack’: I love a copy please! 01:17:50 Anna: 😂 01:17:51 Andrew Adams: Lol 01:17:56 Paul Grazal: too funny 01:17:58 Eleana Urrego: me 2 please 01:18:05 Anna: Amazon 01:18:18 Anna: What's the book? 01:18:28 Jesssica Imanaka: God Bless you Father and everyone! See you in teh Summer! 01:18:50 Andrew Adams: Should we send addresses if we haven’t already? I didn’t realize we were that far along. 01:18:53 Eleana Urrego: I dont mind please 01:19:34 Paul Grazal: Thank you Father ! 01:19:40 Kevin Burke: Thank you Father! 01:19:45 Eleana Urrego: how can I get a book? 01:19:47 jonathan: God bless you father    

You think sin begins when you speak. The Fathers say it begins when you listen.   The serpent did not force Eve. He spoke. She inclined her ear. And through that small opening, death entered the world.   You fear great sins because they are visible. But calumny is quiet. It asks only for your attention.   A word is offered. You do not resist. You do not rebuke. You do not turn away. You listen.   And in listening, you receive.   The Fathers do not soften this. They do not call it weakness. They call it destruction.   The one who speaks slander kills with his mouth. But the one who listens becomes his accomplice. The poison does not remain in the speaker. It passes into you. You carry it. You knead it into your heart. Soon you will speak it. And then you will call it discernment.   You say, “But it is true.” The Fathers answer: truth on the tongue of a demon is still poison.   The devil does not always lie. He mixes truth with venom. He sweetens the word so that you will swallow it. And once it is within you, it becomes bitterness.   This is why Christ refused even the true words of demons. This is why the Apostles closed their ears. Not because they feared lies. But because they knew how truth can be weaponized.   You do not understand the violence of this sin. You think it is speech. The Fathers say it is murder.   “Better to eat meat and drink wine than to eat the flesh of your brother.”   When you listen to calumny, you consume him. You strip him of dignity in your heart. You become incapable of seeing him as God sees him. And at that moment, you have already judged and condemned him.   Do not deceive yourself. Silence is not innocence if your ears are open.   A soldier may be covered in armor. But a single opening is enough for death.   Your ear is that opening.   You guard your body from impurity. You guard your tongue when it suits you. But your ears remain unguarded, curious, receptive.   You sit near the accuser. You nod. You take it in.   And you call this harmless.   The Fathers call it the fall of Adam repeated.   Close the door.   Do not negotiate. Do not linger. Do not taste the sweetness of another’s shame.   Flee the word before it enters. Cut it off before it forms within you. Refuse even the appearance of listening.   Better to be thought rude than to be found complicit in death.   Because once the word enters, it does not leave easily.   And if you allow it to remain, you will become what you have received.   The serpent no longer needs to speak. You will speak for him. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:02:34 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 368, G 00:17:18 Una: What is the email? 00:17:26 Jessica McHale: Reacted to "What is the email?" with 👍 00:17:58 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: [email protected] 00:21:24 Lee Graham: Please give me the name of Themes in Psychology 00:22:34 Jessica McHale: Replying to "Please give me the..." Themes in Orthodox Patristic Psychology: Humility, Obedience, Repentence, and Love 00:28:32 Lee Graham: Replying to "Please give me the n…" Thank you 00:34:06 Bob Čihák, AZ: P 368, H 00:55:21 Jason Fischer: When you speak of silence, would that include meditation 00:56:49 Joan Chakonas: Even dark truth expressed in calumny is better left to God to handle.  Nothing good comes  from evil spoken or in fact. 01:01:10 Jonathan Grobler: We're do we draw the line between calumny, and informing the church of someone's grave sin. Paul told us to not to talk about people's venial sins, but if we see someone committing sin that leads to death, to first talk to them in private, and if they do not wish to listen, to then escalate it to the church. 01:18:35 Maureen Cunningham: Thank You always a blessing. The Blog was wonderful. Blessing 01:18:55 Lee Graham: Thank you since I missed last week 01:19:05 ROBERT IAROPOLI: Thank you, Father. Have a good night. 01:19:57 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:20:06 Jennifer Dantchev: Thank you!

After speaking in broad and sometimes severe lines about the struggle of the spiritual life, the holy elder begins to lower his voice. He does not abandon the path he has shown. He reveals what makes it possible to walk it. Not strength. Not resolve. Not mastery. But hope and humility. He speaks first of hope, not as an idea, but as a living trust in the providence of God. A man begins to see that his life is not held together by his own vigilance. There are moments he does not see, dangers he cannot anticipate, falls he cannot prevent. And yet he is preserved. A stone is about to fall. A wall begins to give way. Death itself draws near without warning. And still, God restrains it. Or quietly leads the man away. Or even permits the blow, yet removes its power to destroy. The heart that begins to perceive this does not become careless. It becomes peaceful. Hope is born when a man sees that his life is already in the hands of Another. This hope does not belong to the negligent or the indifferent. It is not given to one who abandons effort, but to one who labors and yet ceases to trust in his labor. He still acts, still watches, still struggles, but inwardly he has shifted his ground. He no longer leans upon his own understanding. He leans upon God. And from this, a strange boldness arises. Not presumption. Not testing God. But a quiet fearlessness. The soul begins to move through the world without the same anxious calculation, because it knows that even what it cannot foresee is already known. God becomes his constant concern. And so God becomes his constant care. ⸻ Then the elder turns, even more gently, to humility. He does not begin with virtue. He begins with weakness. “Blessed is the man who knows his own weakness.” Not the man who despises himself. Not the man who speaks harshly of himself. But the one who sees. This knowledge does not come through reflection alone. It is given. A man is allowed to be tempted. He struggles. He plans. He guards himself. He tries to secure peace through effort, discipline, vigilance. And yet he finds no rest. Fear remains. Trembling remains. The heart refuses to be stilled. Then, quietly, something is revealed. Not his failure, but his need. The soul begins to understand that no arrangement of its own can give it the certainty it seeks. All its hedging about, all its carefulness, all its ascetic labor—these are not enough to establish peace. And this is not a condemnation. It is a gift. Because at that moment, the heart turns. It begins to seek another help. A help that is not its own. A help that saves. Humility is born here, not as an achievement, but as a recognition. The man sees the distance between his weakness and God’s strength, and in that seeing, he no longer trusts himself in the same way. He becomes watchful, not out of anxiety, but out of truth. He gathers himself inwardly, not out of fear, but out of clarity. He knows now that without God, he cannot stand. And with God, he does not need to be afraid. ⸻ Thus hope and humility meet. Hope says: God holds my life, even when I do not see how. Humility says: I cannot hold my life on my own. And together they open the path. Not a path of certainty as the world understands it. Not a path of control or self-assurance. But a path of quiet reliance. A man begins to walk it when he entrusts himself—again and again, in small and hidden ways—to the One who has already been carrying him all along. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:14:25 Bob Čihák, AZ: P. 183, #6, last paragraph 00:15:15 Janine: That’s a great book! Watchful mind 00:15:31 Bob Čihák, AZ: I'll take one! 00:15:54 Alan Henderson: I came in late, which books is he offering to give? 00:16:28 Art iPhone: The Watchful Mind was one . 00:16:29 Wayne: Already have a copy. 00:18:37 Andrew Adams: I’d be interested in both 00:18:44 Jessica McHale: Would love copies! 00:18:48 Maureen Cunningham: Wonderful a yes from  Ken and I 00:19:03 Bob Čihák, AZ: P. 183, #6, last paragraph 00:19:44 Ursula McKenzie: I'd like both! Ursula 00:32:18 Ryan Ngeve: Father how far can one go with his ‘daring’ before it is considered ‘testing the Lord’ 00:35:17 Gwen’s iPhone: I always been the told the ultimate way to tempt God is to commit suicide. 00:37:42 John ‘Jack’: I sometimes wonder if the reason I don’t feel anxious very often is that I’ve created a life for myself wherein I don’t venture into “uncomfortable” or unknown situations.  I’ve expressed this concern to others before and they assure me I don’t “play it safe” in this regard. I just hope they’re being truthful and not just kind.  I dealt with anxiety often in my younger days. 00:37:59 Anna: It's also caused by medications or medical issues that are not related to psychology or satanic. 00:42:34 Maureen Cunningham: What you said a few  Wen. Ago about abuse that a person 00:42:56 Maureen Cunningham: Suffers one thing after another. 00:45:03 Erick Chastain: God seems to use difficult circumstances and anxiety-provoking situations to systematically destroy our self-reliance. Especially when we try to solve the situations as st isaac says, when we try to do so naturally in part. 00:45:25 Jessica McHale: Reacted to "God seems to use d..." with 👍 00:45:26 John ‘Jack’: Reacted to "I sometimes wonder i…" with 👍 00:55:36 Ben: Isaac himself lost his sight, didn't he? Did it literally happen to him, I wonder, what the psalm says? 01:10:23 Jesssica Imanaka: Speaking of this surety in religious life, I need to hop off to attend Vespers now! 01:10:29 Ryan Ngeve: Father is it possible for watchfulness to lead to a type of self-absorption? If so, how and how does one overcome it. 01:18:31 John ‘Jack’: Likewise 01:18:32 Julie: Thank you Father 01:18:34 Paul Grazal: wonderful !  getting through loud and clear Father 01:18:41 Maureen Cunningham: Thank You  everyone  Blessing Father so thankful for your teachings 01:18:41 Kevin Burke: Amen! 01:18:43 David Swiderski, WI: Thank you Father may God bless you, your mother and this group. 01:19:22 Andrew Adams: Thanks be to God! Thank you, Father! 01:19:24 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:19:32 Francisco Ingham: Thank you father! 01:20:03 Maureen Cunningham: Just tell me how much to send and were 01:20:07 Andrew Adams: Sign me up 01:20:11 Rod Castillo: Please count me in for both books 01:20:11 Jessica McHale: You are such a blessing!!!! Thank you! Many prayers! 01:20:12 Kevin Burke: Watchful mind!

Lenten Retreat 2026 Fourth Reflection The Man Who Has Nothing Left But God On the Life That Appears When the Self That Lived Has Died “I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me.” Galatians 2:20 There comes a moment that the man cannot perceive directly, because the one who would perceive it is no longer there. He has passed through the loss of support. He has passed through the disappearance of certainty. He has passed through the collapse of identity. He has passed through the experience of abandonment in which he could no longer locate himself in relation to God or even in relation to himself. He has stood where nothing remained to sustain the sense that he existed. He did not cross this threshold through effort. He did not achieve it through discipline. He did not arrive there through understanding. He arrived there because everything he used to sustain himself had been taken. And he did not die. This is the first revelation. He did not die. The self he knew has disappeared. The structure that allowed him to experience continuity has dissolved. The identity he inhabited cannot be recovered. And yet he remains. But he does not remain as he was. Before this, he experienced himself as existing from himself. Even in humility. Even in repentance. Even in dependence on God, he remained the one who depended. He remained the center from which his life was lived. Now this center cannot be found. 1 He cannot locate himself as the source of his own existence. He cannot experience himself as self originating. He exists. But not from himself. The Psalmist speaks from within this mystery when he says, “My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me.” Psalm 62:8 Before this, the man believed he clung to God. He believed his faith held him in relation to God. He believed his perseverance sustained his life. Now he sees that even his clinging was sustained. He sees that he has never lived by his own strength. He sees that he has never possessed life in himself. St. Symeon the New Theologian writes that when grace reveals itself fully, the soul sees that it has always existed by borrowed life. Not poetic life. Actual life. The man now experiences himself as upheld. Not helped. Upheld. This produces a peace that cannot be explained to the man who still lives from himself. Because the man who lives from himself must constantly preserve himself. He must maintain continuity. He must protect identity. 2 He must secure stability. He must ensure that he continues. Fear is inseparable from this condition. Fear of loss. Fear of failure. Fear of death. Fear of disappearance. But the man who no longer lives from himself cannot preserve himself. Because he no longer possesses himself. Christ says, “Whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” Matthew 16:25 This finding is not recovery. It is discovery. The discovery that life was never his. The discovery that existence belongs to God. St. Isaac the Syrian writes that the man who has come to know his nothingness has come to know the truth of his existence. Nothingness does not mean nonexistence. It means the absence of autonomous existence. The man exists entirely in God. St. Paul says, “In Him we live and move and have our being.” Acts 17:28 Before this, these words were believed. Now they are known. 3 Not as thought. As being. The man no longer moves toward God. He moves in Him. He no longer depends on God as one thing depends on another. He exists as one upheld from within. Christ says, “Abide in Me, and I in you.” John 15:4 This abiding is not effort. It is the end of resistance. The man no longer attempts to ground himself. He no longer attempts to preserve himself. He no longer attempts to exist from himself. These movements have ended. Because the one who performed them has died. St. Silouan the Athonite writes that the soul that has come to know God through the Holy Spirit no longer fears anything. This fearlessness does not arise from strength. It arises from dispossession. Nothing remains to be protected. Nothing remains to be preserved. Nothing remains to be secured. The man exists. 4 But he does not belong to himself. St. Sophrony writes that the human person becomes fully real only when he ceases to exist as an autonomous center. Autonomy is the consequence of separation from God. Communion is the restoration of life. The man who lives in communion no longer experiences himself as isolated existence. He experiences himself as relation. Relation becomes the ground of his being. This does not remove suffering. It removes separation. The man still suffers. He still experiences uncertainty. He still experiences weakness. But these no longer threaten his existence. Because his existence is no longer located where suffering occurs. Christ says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” The Kingdom belongs to those who possess nothing. Because possession creates separation. The man who possesses nothing exists without separation. St. John the Baptist expresses this final truth with terrifying clarity. “He must increase, but I must decrease.” John 3:30 This decrease is not moral humility. 5 It is ontological disappearance. The self that lived apart from God has ended. What remains is life. Not his life. God’s life. St. Paul writes, “For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” Colossians 3:3 Hidden. Not visible. Not possessed. Hidden. The man no longer experiences himself as possessing life. He experiences life as possessing him. This is resurrection. Not after death. Now. The man who has nothing left but God discovers that he has lost nothing. Because nothing he lost was life. And what remains cannot be lost. Because it is God Himself. And there is no one left to live apart from Him. ⸻ 6 This life does not appear as triumph. It appears as quiet. It appears as simplicity. It appears as the absence of self concern. Because the one who was concerned for himself has died. Christ says, “Do not be anxious about your life.” Matthew 6:25 This command is impossible for the man who lives from himself. Because he must preserve himself. He must anticipate loss. He must guard against death. But the man who no longer lives from himself has nothing to guard. Nothing to preserve. Nothing to secure. His life is no longer his responsibility. It is God’s. St. Peter speaks this truth plainly, “Cast all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7 Not as comfort. As ontology. The man no longer carries himself. He is carried. 7 St. Silouan writes that when the soul comes to know this life, it desires nothing else. Even suffering cannot remove its peace, because its life is no longer located in what suffers. The body may weaken. The mind may grow silent. The world may collapse. But the life remains. Because it is not created life. It is participation in uncreated life. Christ says, “Because I live, you will live also.” John 14:19 Not because you are strong. Not because you are faithful. Because I live. Archimandrite Sophrony writes that at this stage, man begins to live hypostatically. He exists no longer as an isolated psychological individual, but as a person whose being is rooted in the divine Person of Christ. This life is hidden even from the man himself. He cannot grasp it. He cannot analyze it. He cannot possess it. He can only live it. This is why the saints appear ordinary. They do not experience themselves as extraordinary. They experience themselves as nothing. 8 And precisely in this nothingness, God becomes everything. Abba Macarius said, “The man who has truly come to know himself sees himself as beneath all creation.” Not as metaphor. As reality. Because he no longer lives from himself. God alone lives in him. Archimandrite Zacharias writes that when this life appears, prayer becomes self acting. The heart continues in God without effort. The man no longer generates prayer. Prayer becomes the life of God within him. St. Paul speaks of this mystery, “The Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” Romans 8:26 Not we pray. The Spirit prays. The man has become the place where God lives. This is why fear disappears. Not because suffering ends. But because death has already occurred. The man has already lost himself. There is nothing left to lose. Christ says, “He who believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live.” John 11:25 This is not only future. It is present. 9 The man has died. And now lives. This life cannot be destroyed. Because it is not his. It is Christ. St. Ignatius of Antioch, walking toward martyrdom, said, “It is no longer I who live, but there is within me a living water that speaks and says, Come to the Father.” This is the voice of the life that remains. The life that appears when the self that lived has died. This is the final dismantling. The end of autonomy. The end of separation. The end of the illusion of self existence. And the beginning of life. The man who has nothing left but God discovers that God is everything. And that this is enough. And that it has always been enough. And that there is no one left to live apart from Him. 10 --- Text of chat during the group: 00:02:25 Fr. Charbel Abernethy: From the dismantling of the religious ego there emerges first a profound poverty of heart. The man who once relied upon his virtues, his understanding, or his religious identity discovers that none of these can sustain him before God. What comes into being in this poverty is humility—not as an idea about oneself, but as a quiet truthfulness. The soul no longer needs to defend itself, justify itself, or measure its progress. Having seen its own weakness and the mercy of God, the heart become

“Faith has need of labors also, and confidence in God is the good witness of the conscience born of undergoing hardship for the virtues.” — St. Isaac the Syrian ⸻ There is a sobriety in St. Isaac’s teaching on hope that cuts through every illusion of easy religion. He will not allow hope to become sentiment, nor will he permit it to be reduced to a desperate cry uttered only when life begins to collapse. The man whose heart is buried in earthly concerns, he says, eats “dust with the serpent.” His life is absorbed by distraction, indulgence, and negligence toward God. Yet when affliction comes he suddenly raises his hands and declares: “I shall hope in God.” For Isaac this is not hope at all. It is self-deception. True hope does not arise magically in moments of crisis. It is born slowly through a relationship with God cultivated over time through labor, repentance, and love. The soul that hopes in God has already spent itself for Him. It has struggled to keep His commandments. It has endured hardship for the sake of virtue. Hope therefore becomes the quiet testimony of a conscience that knows it has been walking with God. Faith without such labor is like grasping the wind. One cannot claim confidence in God while living carelessly before Him. Hope grows only in the soil of a life turned toward God with sincerity and effort. Yet Isaac’s realism never becomes harsh. Even as he exposes the foolishness of a man who suddenly invokes God in the midst of self-inflicted trouble, he does not deny the mystery of divine mercy. God remains long-suffering. Even the negligent are often protected by a providence they scarcely notice. A traveler may unknowingly pass through danger — a wild beast, a murderer, a serpent hidden in the road — and yet be preserved by circumstances quietly arranged by God. This preservation is not a reward. It is mercy. In this way Isaac draws the reader into a profoundly relational vision of faith. God is not a mechanism to be activated in moments of distress. Nor is hope a formula that guarantees relief. Rather, hope grows within a living relationship between the human heart and the God who desires that heart. God seeks us patiently. But hope becomes real only when we begin to seek Him in return. Thus Isaac leads the soul away from both presumption and despair. He calls us to a hope that is sober, honest, and deeply human — a hope born not from passivity but from love. The one who labors for God, who sweats in His husbandry, who struggles to keep faith even in weakness, gradually discovers that confidence in God begins to take root within him. Hope then becomes something quiet and strong. Not a cry of desperation. But the steady trust of a heart that has learned, through labor and repentance, to live before God. --- Text of chat during the group: 00:10:07 Bob Čihák, AZ: P. 182, #3, first paragraph 00:19:03 Bob Čihák, AZ: P. 182, #3, first paragraph 00:40:42 Jessica McHale: When I am very tired, and I pray Vespers or Compline, I sometimes move through the psalms with inattention and just moving through because I am so tired. At those times, is it better to give 2 lines of attention to God or push through all the psalms? I love praying the Hours, but when I am so tired after a long day (for a variety of reasons), it can be a challenge to really be with the Lord when praying. 00:41:27 Wayne: Reacted to "When I am very tired..." with 👍 00:43:47 Nypaver Clan: Page # ? 00:44:08 Jesssica Imanaka: 182 00:44:12 Myles Davidson: Replying to "Page # ?" 182 00:44:15 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "182" with ❤️ 00:44:30 Myles Davidson: Replying to "Page # ?" About to start last paragraph 00:48:55 John ‘Jack’: I’m often taken how we/one can say “ how can a good God let these bad things happen” yet we spend minimal time in prayer worship. Why would we expect blessings of a relational love of God when we don’t show him love. 00:48:56 Ryan Ngeve: Father, isn’t the very act of toiling for God an act of hope itself? 01:03:31 David Swiderski, WI: I have been trying to follow the Kathisma which I like for Matins but to be honest the vespers with the daily repeat of 18 feels tiresome for some reason. Just wondering why the matins changes each day but the vespers only has the same group over and over. 01:07:00 Jessica McHale: I use a Melkite breviary and the Kathisma for vespers does change. Orthros is very long. It's been great for me to get to know the psalms much more by following the Kathisma. 01:08:59 Myles Davidson: Th 1962 Breviary and previous in the Latin rite work on a weekly cycle 01:10:10 Joan Chakonas: I find consolation in reminding myself, when annoyed by something as mundane as being stuck behind a school bus, that its Gods will that I am stuck behind the school bus at this moment.  My annoyance evaporates and This gift from God is like gold to me.  His will is something I’ve been focusing on this Lent-it is so consoling to keep this in mind . 01:10:57 ROBERT IAROPOLI: Reacted to "I find consolation..." with ❤️ 01:13:08 Jesssica Imanaka: Reacted to "I find consolation i..." with ❤️ 01:13:09 Eleana Urrego: Reacted to "I find consolation i..." with 👍🏼 01:13:26 John ‘Jack’: Reacted to "I find consolation i…" with ❤️ 01:13:33 Jessica McHale: Reacted to "I find consolation..." with ❤️ 01:13:36 Ben: Reacted to "I find consolation i..." with ❤️ 01:14:37 Ben: Anna: Is it helpful to do penance for all the sins we would have commit but God saved us from? 01:16:44 Fr Martin, Arizona: I still today have seen God rescue people as Isaac says. Trust God. On my way to Pittsburgh my connecting flight arrived late, I still prayed and went to the gate. The plane to Pittsburgh had boarded, closed the door, and the clerk called inside the plane and told them to open the door and let me on. I've never seen that before. I've sometimes been frustrated by being delayed to find out that God had a reason for my delay. Even delays build my faith and trust in God. 01:19:10 David Swiderski, WI: Every day, a farmer relied on his horse to work his fields. One day, the horse ran away. The villagers said, “Such bad luck,” but the farmer replied, “Bad luck. Good luck. Who knows?” Weeks later, the horse returned with a herd of nine more. The villagers cheered his “good luck,” but he gave the same calm reply. Later, the farmer’s son tried to tame one of the new horses, fell, and broke his leg. Again the villagers lamented the “bad luck,” and again the farmer said, “Bad luck. Good luck. Who knows?” A month later, the army came through town, conscripting every able-bodied young man. Seeing the son’s broken leg, they passed him by. The villagers celebrated the farmer’s “good luck,” but he simply repeated, “Bad luck. Good luck. Who knows?” 01:19:28 David Swiderski, WI: My Uncle used to tell me this story when I was young I still remember it fondly 01:20:12 Elizabeth Richards: Reacted to "My Uncle used to tel..." with ❤️ 01:20:24 Julie: Reacted to "Every day, a farmer …" with ❤️ 01:20:32 John ‘Jack’: Reacted to "Every day, a farmer …" with ❤️ 01:20:36 Nypaver Clan: Reacted to "My Uncle used to tel..." with ❤️ 01:20:53 Catherine Opie: Yes if I get frustrated or anxious that my plans will not come to fruition I am missing all the gifts God is offering me in the moment. 01:22:58 Maureen Cunningham: Lord’s Blessing to all . Thank You Father 01:23:11 Janine: Thank you Father! 01:23:43 David Swiderski, WI: Thank you Father, may God bless you your mother and this group. 01:23:44 Rebecca Thérèse: Thank you☺️ 01:23:52 Joan Chakonas: Thank you Father 01:23:53 Elizabeth Richards: Amen- peace to you Father 01:23:54 Bob Čihák, AZ: Bless you, Father 01:23:56 Jessica McHale: Thank you!!! Many prayers!

A brother said to an elder, “Father, what is calumny?” The elder said, “Death.” The brother was troubled. “I did not strike anyone.” The elder said, “You struck your brother with your tongue.” Silence fell between them. The elder continued, “A man may fast. He may keep vigil. He may pray the Psalms all night. But if he speaks against his brother, he destroys everything.” The brother asked, “Even if what he says is true?” The elder said, “Truth spoken without love is a knife.” The brother lowered his head. “What then is condemnation?” The elder replied, “When a man sees the sin of his brother and says in his heart, ‘I know what this man is.’” The elder struck the ground with his staff. “Only God knows what a man is.” Silence. The brother spoke again, “Father, sometimes others speak against a brother in my presence. What should I do?” The elder said, “Close the door.” The brother did not understand. The elder explained, “Close the door of your ears.” “If you listen, the fire enters you.” The brother said, “And if I agree with them?” The elder said, “Then you have lit the fire yourself.” The brother trembled. The elder said, “Many think the sin is speaking.” “It begins earlier.” “It begins when the heart enjoys hearing evil.” The brother whispered, “Why is this sin so grave?” The elder said, “Because the man who condemns his brother leaves the place of the sinner and sits in the place of God.” The elder looked at him sharply. “And God does not share His throne.” A long silence passed. The brother said, “What must I do if someone begins to malign another?” The elder replied, “Say this: ‘I am worse than he. I cannot judge anyone.’” “In this way you save your soul.” The brother said, “And if I have already spoken evil?” The elder said, “Go to your brother. Bow to the ground. Say, ‘Forgive me. I have killed you with my tongue.’” The brother lifted his eyes. “Is it truly so serious?” The elder said, “The serpent expelled Eve from Paradise with a whisper.” Silence returned. Then the elder spoke one final word. “If you wish to know whether the grace of God lives in you, watch your mouth.” “The mouth that blesses is alive.” “The mouth that condemns is already dead.”