ON THE MYSTERY OF TEARS AND REPENTANCE

Priest Aleksandar RTOC

There is a light that is not of this world, and a darkness that is not merely the absence of light. There is a cry that does not come from the throat, and a tear that does not come from the eye. There is a death that is not the end, and a life that is not the beginning.

Whoever has descended to the depths of his own being knows that man does not live by his own life, nor does he die by his own death. Whoever has looked into his own heart knows that he does not dwell there alone, but that Someone else is present—Someone ineffable, Someone who listens to our every heartbeat.

And behold, while you think you are still on earth, you have already stepped into eternity. While you question who you are, you have already been stripped bare to the truth of yourself. And when words lose their meaning, then begins the unspoken dialogue, the silence that cries out, the emptiness that is filled.

Repentance is not an act we perform, but a force that permeates us. It is not human effort, but an invisible hand that lifts us from our own fall. Whoever feels this touch can never be the same again. For it is not he who has found God, but God who has found him.

And now, let these words not be mere speech, but a path—not a thought, but an encounter. Let the soul, touched by the mystery, tremble before the One Who Is.

Oh, beloved who read this letter, oh, if only you knew this mystery! If only you could enter, even with a small part of your being, into your own depths.

Let my tongue fall silent, and my pen tremble, for I must speak of the Ineffable, of that which quivers between being and non-being, between light and darkness, between death and life.

O REPENTANCE!

Mysterious and ineffable, hidden from the wise, revealed to those who weep.

Repentance is not a word on the lips, not a movement of the body, not a sigh in passing. Repentance is an abyss into which one plunges, a whirlwind into which the soul descends, a sense of death in which life is found. Just as a grain of wheat must die to bear fruit, so must the heart be shattered in contrition to be gathered again in God.

Where were you, O soul, when you called yourself alive?

What were you looking at when you believed you could see?

For the light you had was darkness, and the path you walked was a wayward road. Oh, the heavy sleep of ignorance, when the heart thinks it breathes, but it has long been dead!

But behold the moment—behold, the blade of God’s word descends upon your hardened shell, behold, the burning tears melt the stone of the heart, behold, the wind that sweeps away the dust from the mind.

No one can pull himself out of the mire of sin, no one can break down the iron gates that separate him from the light.

Repentance is not an act of human strength but a mystery of encounter—where God descends, and man plunges deeper into his own abyss. Only when he reaches the end of his road, when he confronts the emptiness of his existence, when he cries out from the depths, then comes “the One Who Is.”

When tear meets tear, when sigh becomes cry, when prayer ceases to be words and becomes the groaning of the soul, then the heavens open, and the unwaning light of grace illuminates the heart. Then all speech ceases, for the tongue cannot carry what the soul beholds. Only silence remains, yet that silence thunders louder than all words.

O, INCOMPREHENSIBLE MYSTERY!

O, FIRE THAT DOES NOT CONSUME BUT RENEWS!

O, NIGHT IN WHICH THE DAY IS BORN, DEATH IN WHICH LIFE IS REVEALED!

Who is worthy to comprehend you?

Only he who has died to himself, only he who has become nothing, only he whose heart has become an empty vessel, waiting to be filled with the uncreated Light.

Repentance is not the end but the beginning. Repentance is not sorrow but joy. Repentance is not a prison but the door that leads to freedom. And whoever once tastes this mystery can never return to the old ways. For he who has seen the Light can no longer love the darkness. And behold, when you thought you had reached the end, only then does something begin that you have never known. When you believed you had lost everything, then you discover what you never had.

For the tear of repentance is not just a drop of water. It is revelation, it is resurrection. It is the moment when the soul sees itself as it truly is—naked, powerless, helpless, lost in the darkness of its deeds.

When, in that tear, you behold your own destruction, then you understand that it is not just a tear—it is a baptism in fire, it is a second Jordan where the old man drowns and disappears.

Then, the hand that touches you is not your own, nor is it your effort.

It is the invisible hand of the Father, who lifts you from the mire, who embraces you though you were unclean, who gives you a new name, a new garment, a new life.

It is the moment in which everything in you cries out:

“Father, I have sinned! I am not worthy to be called Your son!”

But before you even finish your sentence, you already feel yourself enveloped by an unspeakable love.

And then you know—you are no longer alone. And never again will you be. For where there is repentance, there is God. Where a tear touches the earth, there a new life begins. Where sin is confessed, grace overflows beyond measure.

So do not struggle any longer, do not hide your face, do not flee from the One who is already seeking you. Let the tear fall. Let the heart be broken.

And know—within that single tear lies all of life. All sorrow and all joy. All fall and all hope. For it is not yours alone. It is the tear God has been waiting for since eternity.

And now, while heaven is silent and your breath is still, know this—the arms of the Father are open, and in them, there is a place for you.