We pray for them. We light candles. We bring their names to the altar. We give to the poor in their memory. And we do this because death doesn’t end our relationship with those we love.
If you’re coming from a Protestant background, this might sound strange. You might’ve been taught that once someone dies, that’s it, they’re either saved or they’re not, and nothing we do makes a difference. But the Orthodox Church has always believed something different. We believe the Church is one body, living and dead together in Christ. When someone dies, they don’t leave the Church. They’re still part of us, and we’re still connected to them through prayer and love.
Death Doesn’t Break the Body
Here’s the thing. Salvation isn’t a one-time transaction where you sign on the dotted line and you’re done. It’s healing. It’s transformation. It’s what we call theosis, becoming more and more united with God. That process doesn’t stop at the grave. The departed are still growing in holiness, still being perfected in God’s mercy. So our prayers actually help them.
This isn’t like the Catholic idea of purgatory with its legalistic framework of temporal punishment. We don’t claim to know exactly how it all works. But we trust that God hears our prayers for the dead just as He hears our prayers for the living. The Apostle Paul wrote about being transformed “from glory to glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18). That transformation continues.
What We Actually Do
Every Divine Liturgy includes prayers for the departed. During the Proskomedia, when the priest prepares the bread and wine before the service begins, he commemorates the dead by name. You can give the priest a list of your departed loved ones, and he’ll remember them at the altar. They’re present with us in the Eucharist, part of the great communion of saints.
We also serve memorial services called Panikhidas. These usually happen on the third, ninth, and fortieth days after someone dies, then annually on the anniversary of their death. The timing comes from ancient practice, not because something magical happens on day nine versus day eight. These are pastoral rhythms, regular opportunities to gather and pray.
At memorials, families often bring kollyva, boiled wheat mixed with honey, sometimes with pomegranate seeds or powdered sugar on top. The wheat symbolizes resurrection: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” The sweetness represents the hope of eternal life. After the priest blesses it, everyone shares it. It’s a tangible way to remember and to hope.
The Church also sets aside special Saturdays throughout the year for remembering all the faithful departed. Your parish calendar will show these Soul Saturdays. They’re times when the whole Church prays together for everyone who’s died in the faith.
More Than Just Words
Prayer isn’t the only way we remember. The Church has always taught that almsgiving and charity done in someone’s memory help them spiritually. When your grandmother dies, you can give to the poor in her name. You can donate to the parish. You can fast and offer that discipline as a prayer for her. These aren’t superstitions. They’re concrete expressions of love that reach across the barrier of death.
I know a family here in Southeast Texas who, after their father died, started bringing groceries to an elderly neighbor every week in his memory. They’d been meaning to help her anyway, but his death gave them the push. They told the priest about it, and he commemorated their father at Liturgy, connecting that act of mercy to their prayers for him. That’s how it’s supposed to work, prayer and action woven together.
At Home
You don’t have to wait for a formal church service. At home, you can pray for the departed every day. The prayer book includes specific prayers, “O God of spirits and of all flesh, who trampled down death and overthrew the devil and gave life to the world…” You can light a candle before your icon corner and say their names. You can ask them to pray for you, too. Remember, they’re alive in Christ. They can hear us.
Some families keep photographs of departed loved ones near their icons (not as icons themselves, but as reminders). Some mention them in their evening prayers. Some make kollyva at home on the anniversary of a death and share it with neighbors. There’s flexibility here. The point is to maintain the connection, to refuse to let death have the final word.
Why This Matters
If you’ve lost someone recently, this practice is a gift. You’re not helpless. You’re not cut off from them. You can still love them actively through prayer. You can still do things that help them. And when you stand in church and hear their name read at the altar, you’re reminded that they’re still with us, still part of the Body of Christ.
Bring their names to your priest. Ask about scheduling a memorial service. Make the kollyva or ask someone to teach you how. Give alms in their memory. These aren’t empty rituals. They’re how the Church has loved her departed children for two thousand years, and they still work. Death is real, but it’s not the end. Not for them, and not for our relationship with them.
