On the Thresholds of the Spiritual Realm explores extraordinary true-life encounters, moral crossroads, and moments of grace to ask whether coincidence, suffering, and choice may reveal an unseen spiritual reality. Why was this an important book for you to write?

I wrote this book hoping readers would see parts of their own lives in these stories and begin to think more deeply about their own situations, choices, and challenges. By sharing some of my personal experiences involving coincidence, conscience, prayer, suffering, and unexpected joy, I would like readers to become aware that many life events may hold a hidden significance beyond what first meets the eye.  Ultimately, I hope the book inspires people to choose kindness, honesty, faith, and a strong sense of right and wrong, choices that can bring greater peace, a richer sense of purpose, and a deeper connection with others, themselves, and the spiritual side of life.

Your book places great emphasis on free will even while exploring spiritual guidance and providence. How do you distinguish between divine influence, coincidence, and a person’s own choices?​

Divine influence and coincidence are parts of life we cannot fully control or always understand. God moves through events in mysterious ways, whether through natural disasters or unexpected encounters, which often demand a response from us. The questions become not just “Why did this happen?” or “Why is this happening to me?” but also “How will I respond?” These unforeseen events invite us to pause, seek guidance, and open ourselves more fully to God’s grace.

This is where free will comes into play. While we cannot control everything that happens to us, we hold the power to decide how we respond. We can stand with courage or shrink in fear, choose kindness or settle for indifference, offer forgiveness or cling to resentment, act with honesty or hide behind dishonesty.  Those choices shape our character, and for me, divine influence does not take away our freedom. It invites us to use that freedom well—to choose love over selfishness, what is right over what is easy, and to seek light over darkness.

You write about people from different countries, cultures, and religious traditions. How did those encounters broaden or challenge your Catholic understanding of spirituality?​

Meeting people from different cultures and faith traditions strengthened, rather than weakened, my Catholic understanding of spirituality. Whatever name people give it—faith, conscience, moral responsibility, or the search for meaning—there is a spiritual dimension to life that touches us all.

My Muslim friend from Pakistan showed me a profound faith in God through his sense of responsibility, kindness, and deep devotion to family. His example reminded me that faith is revealed not only in what we say we believe, but in how we live. My friendship with the Missionaries of Charity from India had a similar effect. Their selfless care for children with severe disabilities and older women abandoned by their families, without expecting anything in return, opened my eyes to new depths of empathy, compassion, and Christian service. I was also moved by my former secretary and friend whose Orthodox Christian family endured displacement, war, and hardship from Armenia to Palestine to Jordan, while holding firmly to their faith. Witnessing her blissful joy when we visited the places her family once called home in Haifa gave my wife and me a powerful sense of spiritual unity with her that rose above our different histories and backgrounds.

As a Catholic, I remain grounded in my faith and its view of God. Still, meeting people with different beliefs has taught me not to limit where to look for goodness, wisdom, compassion, or a glimpse of God. These relationships with people from many backgrounds have widened my understanding of spirituality and made me more humble.

Many of your strongest stories involve people facing corruption, betrayal, violence, illness, or grief. Why do you think moments of crisis so often become spiritual turning points?​

Moments of crisis often become spiritual turning points because they strip away the protections and distractions of ordinary life. When things are going well, it is easy to move through our routines without thinking deeply about who we are becoming. But betrayal, violence, illness, grief, or disaster can leave us vulnerable and bring our deepest fears, doubts, and values into the open.

In those moments, we are often forced to choose, and sometimes with little time to think.  We can respond with anger, fear, or despair, or with forgiveness, courage, compassion, and faith. Those choices can shape our character long after the crisis has passed. The true spiritual turning point is not just the crisis itself but the choices we make within it: who we decide to become, how we choose to live, and whether we let temptations or suffering defeat us or lead us toward greater courage and faith.

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