Rarely do we question God or our fellow humans when we live in comfort, satiation, love, friendship, family, and peace. It's effortless for us to be merciful, grateful, and good-natured—notice how deliberately I use these complex words with two roots: "kind-hearted," "virtuous soul," "good-natured." All questions arise the moment something is taken from us, when we feel slighted, struck, passed by, or deprived.

Fortunately, many of us live without deprivation or resentment. We attend church, light candles for others, engage in social media—liking posts for our fellow beings. Something may happen not to you but to someone close, a friend, a distant grandmother, a neighbor, or a homeless person on the adjacent street. The details don't matter. The neighbor's house burned down because it wasn't insured. The aunt lost her beloved husband. The distant grandmother, who never harmed you, now requires daily and hourly care. As for the homeless person on the nearby street, winter has arrived, and he seems oblivious, as if unaware that winter was coming when you saw him on the street.

Did they all not know that life's journey is difficult and full of sorrows? Do they not understand that God doesn't send us challenges beyond our capabilities but only within our strength? It's clearly stated in the Gospel! Did the aunt not know that death exists in the world, and her husband, for many years, knew that we don't die but transition into eternal life, where there will be "neither sorrow nor sighing nor tears," as it is said in memorial prayers? Why does she lament so at funerals? Why does she walk away when you present arguments in favor of Christianity?

And the distant grandmother, hasn't she read in Scripture, "as you sow, so shall you reap"? How can she think that you will extract money for a caregiver from your family or quit your job to rush to her aid? The neighbor—it is said: "do not store up earthly treasures, but gather spiritual treasures," which won't burn in a fire, and thieves won't come for them. As for the homeless person, instead of lying on a bench all summer, he should have thought about the future.

Of course, I exaggerate. Such pure reasoning doesn't occur to us—those who are well-off yet merciful. We also don't intend to live forever and want to do good deeds. We will try to do something for the grandmother, the aunt, the neighbor, and perhaps even the unfamiliar homeless person.

Meanwhile, with unwavering faith in God, we expect genuine heroism from our less fortunate neighbors. We await them to endure misfortune as steadfastly as the saints we read about in Scripture. We remind them of how courageously the holy ascetics suffered—pushing the unfortunate even deeper into the abyss.

I see many people who have despaired, with numerous questions for God or have completely abandoned faith after experiencing great sorrow. It irks me when others, whose lives are prosperous, begin lecturing those in distress on how to endure trials. Therefore, let's not remind the grieving aunt about the experience of blessed Job, who lost everything but did not despair. Let's not anticipate holiness and heroism from those in trouble. Instead, let's offer practical help—a donation or our labor.

Original article: https://radiovera.ru/ozhidanie-svyatosti