Wednesday, July 1, 2026


We think that because we do not see the Saints, the Virgin Mary, the Angels, or our loved ones who have fallen asleep in the Lord, because we do not see them, we assume that they do not see us either.

A man asks, "How can I cope with the death of my dearest loved one?"

Death is not something that can truly be dealt with; it is something that surpasses every human capability.

Those who reach such spiritual heights as Elder Joseph the Hesychast, to whom the Virgin Mary said, "I will take you on my feast day," and who had not departed on the Feast of the Dormition, became troubled and wondered, "Why am I still here? Why am I still alive, since the Virgin Mary said she would take me? Why has she not taken me yet?" He was saddened because he had not died. We are saddened when we are about to die; he was saddened because he was still living.

For someone to reach such a state, there must first have been a Christian life, a life within the Church, with participation in the sacraments, with much prayer, with love, and with acts of charity.

When someone lives in this way, then he will not be distressed either by his own death or by the death of someone he loves. For the Christian knows that everything does not end here.

Unfortunately, we cannot understand this unless we live it ourselves. We think that because we do not see the Saints, the Virgin Mary, the Angels, and our loved ones who have departed, we assume that they do not see us. But they do see us.

This is a reality that those who live it and those who have lived it throughout these two thousand years know. Yes, they will grieve over the death of a loved one or over their own death, but only up to a certain point. Beyond that, they know that we shall meet again.

And this we know; we do not merely believe it.

We know it in countless ways, including because we have come into contact with people who departed years ago—people whom we may never have even met while they were alive—and yet they know us and communicate with us in many different ways.

This is a two-thousand-year history. Unless someone experiences it personally, they cannot accept it. It goes against reason. It is beyond reason, above reason. Yet upon this knowledge—not merely upon faith—that God is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, a God of the living and not of the dead.

This means that Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and each one of our departed loved ones are alive, since God is the God of the living.

Many people have come into contact with the other dimension and know this.

There are many for whom someone from that other dimension came into this world where we now live, spoke with them, and communicated with them, and so they know.

Either we go there and return, or they come here and then return to where they came from. What remains is knowledge.

And Christians, for two thousand years now, have known that death does not truly exist. Death is not real in the ultimate sense. What changes is the form and manner of our living. Now we live in this way. When we close our eyes here, we will open them somewhere else and live differently.

When the Saints appear and speak to us, it is not our imagination. It is not merely our own thoughts, because they also appear to others and speak to them about things we have asked about, revealing them to others. Therefore, it is a real communication; it is not fantasy.

But if someone has not experienced these things, he cannot accept them, because we have become trapped in rational thinking—in the logic that two plus two equals four.

That logic was overturned by the mystery that one and one and one do not make three, but one God does.

We must experience these things and come to know them.


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