On the Saturday before Easter, the Holy Fire descended again into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Did we deserve another year after all we have allowed?

Look at the cover photo again. These are eggs from Kosovo and Metohija, painted by martyrs with a unique fate in history – their ‘state’ allowed them to be declared foreigners in their own homes and they received TEMPORARY residence permits from terrorists installed by Anglo-Zionists. For them, there is no more uncertainty: the next phase is – Gaza! Everything is done according to the same scenario as in the Middle East. First, what is yours is not yours, and then, since you are in someone else's, you must be exterminated!

Many peoples have never woken up from this hypnotic dream. The Palestinians are paying a high price for their late awakening today. The question is whether, and when, the Serbian people will finally wake up. But we must believe in it, because without faith there is no resurrection.

Rose of Jericho by Ivan Alekseyevich Bunin

“As a sign of faith in eternal life, in the resurrection from the dead, in the East, in ancient times, they placed the Rose of Jericho in coffins, in tombs.

Strangely, they called a rose, yes, even the Rose of Jericho, that clump of dry, prickly stems, similar to our windbreak, those harsh desert shoots, which are found only in the gravelly sand below the Dead Sea, on the desolate slopes of the Sinai mountains. However, there is a tradition that the venerable Sava himself called it that, who chose the terrible Valley of Fire, a bare dead strait in the Judean Desert, for his monastery. The symbol of resurrection that he given in the form of a wild desert plant, he adorned it with the most beautiful of earthly comparisons known to him.

For it, that weed, is truly miraculous. Torn and carried away by travelers, thousands of species from its native land, it can lie dry, gray, dead for years. But, when it is lowered into the water, at the same moment it begins to blossom, to spread soft leaves and a pink flower. And the poor man's heart rejoices, consoles: there is no death in the world, what was, what once lived, does not die! There is no parting and loss as long as my soul, my Love, Memory is alive!

Thus I console myself, resurrecting within myself those light-bearing ancient lands, on which my foot once walked, those blessed days, when the sun of my life stood at its zenith, when I, in the flower of strength and hope, hand in hand with the one to whom God ordained her to be my companion to the grave, set out on her first long journey, a marital journey, and at the same time a pilgrimage to the holy land of our Lord Jesus Christ. In the deep peace of centuries-old silence and oblivion, she lay before us, Palestine – the valleys of Galilee, the hills of Judea, the salt and terror of Sodom and Gomorrah. But it was spring, and on all our roads the same anemones and poppies that bloomed before Rachel bloomed merrily and peacefully, the same lilies adorned the fields and the same birds of the air sang their songs in the blissful carelessness that the Gospel story taught them…

The Rose of Jericho. In the living water of the heart, in the pure source of love, sadness and tenderness, I immerse the root and stem of my past – and behold, again, once again my sacred plant miraculously comes to life… Step aside, inexorable, when this moisture dries up, impoverishes and withers heart – and may the dust of oblivion forever cover the Rose of my Jericho.”

To all believers, dear people who celebrate today, with the wish that the awakening brings a collective resurrection, I congratulate you on the greatest Orthodox holiday

Christ has Risen!