How painful it is to realize that for such a short existence, the soul finds itself in eternal anguish! Conversely, when the sinner reflects on their life in the context of time, it feels extensive—a long journey through many years. How tormenting is the realization that within those precious years, they could have repented countless times, yet consistently chose suffering instead! The remorse that pierces the sinner's memory is bitter; it brings no benefit. The sinner repents too late, as the opportunity for forgiveness has slipped away. They now lament their sins, but their tears only intensify the flames of their suffering. “There is no repentance in hell. For those who have gone to hell, confession and correction are no longer possible,” warns Gregory the Theologian. In this life, however, the sinner can repent and find hope: confession leads to forgiveness, tears bring cleansing. This is a favorable time, as the Apostle reminds us, a time of repentance, where God has entrusted His priests with the keys to the kingdom of heaven; they may open those gates for the penitent at will. Yet in the afterlife, things are different: it is a time of retribution where each soul will receive their due according to divine judgment. In that realm, the Lord retrieves the keys and, following the assessment of both the righteous and the wicked, locks the gates permanently. “And the doors were shut” (Matthew 25:10). Inside these gates dwell the eternally blessed saints, while the outside is filled with the eternally condemned; those doors remain sealed, for the keys are no longer present. However, can there be no possibility of repentance? There is a sorrowful recognition of wrongs, yet it bears no fruit. Take, for instance, King Saul of Israel who, pursued by the Philistines, decreed that no one was to eat until they secured victory against their foes, swearing a terrible oath against anyone who disobeyed—even against his own son, Jonathan. When Jonathan, enticed by hunger, tasted honey from a beehive, he was met with his father’s death sentence. “Death, death shall he die this day!” Though he had merely sipped a little sweetness, that small indulgence now bore a heavy penalty. Poor Jonathan laments, “I have tasted a little honey... and behold, I die.” That tiny taste brings devastating consequences! Oh, cursed honey! Merciless pleasure! If only I had never encountered you! Unfortunate Jonathan, what led you to this fate? Just a bit of honey—now my life is forfeit. This knowledge renders my suffering so painful. O Supreme King of Ages, who holds the keys of death, grant me the authority to release even a single soul from this abysmal prison where transgressors of Your laws endure eternal penalties. My intention is not to ease their agony or extinguish their flames; rather, I wish to inquire, “O afflicted soul, tell me, what caused your suffering? Why are you in such deep anguish? What led you to this cell? What drove you into this furnace? What have you done?” The answer might reveal something as trivial as tasting a bit of honey. That fleeting moment of sweetness stands as the sum of their sins. How potent was the intoxication of carnal desire, leading to the defilement of many innocent women, to the dishonor of honorable wives, sacrificing everything for a wicked lover! All this, merely a drop of honey! Was the pleasure derived from intemperance at feasts, dances, and celebrations significant? Just a drop of honey! Was the joy of wreaking vengeance and relishing in another's misfortune substantial? Merely a drop of honey! Was the wealth I coveted, for which I piled sin upon sin, truly worthy? Only a drop of honey! What of the esteem, honor, and peace I savored through my earthly power and material possessions? A drop of honey! Everything—everything—is distilled to just that—an insignificant drop of honey, tainted by so much anxiety, remorse, and suffering! Even had my life been filled with joyful days, what worth does that carry against the backdrop of eternal anguish? Just a drop of honey—nothingness, “the day of yesterday that passed by” (Psalm 89:5). Woe to me! I recall my actions, igniting a flame in my memory that torments me more than the fires that consume my body. I have sinned for an instant and suffer eternally. O vile honey of momentary pleasures! You have become to me the poison of ceaseless distress. Fleeting life, you have bred my unending woe! But why do I term it fleeting? It was unnecessarily prolonged for my opportunity to seek salvation. I resided on this earth for many years, holding the keys to heaven—aware of the punishment that lay in wait for sinners like myself—fully knowledgeable of how to avoid it, yet failing to do so. I was a free and rational being. Who blinded me, who led me astray? Oh, my past life—whether perceived as brief or long, the memory remains painfully bitter. Oh, cherished years, beloved days now gone, lost forever to me! Who can grant me even one of those hours that once seemed so lengthy? Who can restore a single moment from the time squandered on sin or frivolity? Who can give me even an instant to repent? Yet time has slipped away, it is finished, and I cling to it in vain—desiring it eternally. Oh, the tormenting arrow that pierces my memory! My guilt—a mere drop of honey—yet my punishment is everlasting suffering. Oh, anguished recollections, futile repentance! These words strike at the hearts of those who hear them, far more intensely for those who utter them. Consider the torment that leads one to curse the womb that bore them, the nurturing arms of those who raised them, family and friends they cherished, most especially that drop of honey that has turned so bitter. Picture one in their anguish—like a maddened demoniac, frothing with rage, boiling with fury as a rabid beast, seeking to tear themselves apart, to consume their own insides in a frenzied struggle! They are guilty—persecuting their own soul, both as victim and as tormentor of eternal despair.