On the Golgotha of Aiud, 1948
At the end of November 1948, the regime in Aiud suddenly deteriorated. The foreign Jewish and Hungarian Communists, as we later found out, had called for the murder of 30,000 Romanians in order to create terror in the country and implement their programme of revolutionary reforms. But they were opposed first by Lucrețiu Pătrășcanu and then by Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej’s “mob”, as they called it.
Then they said: “We can re-educate them in the dungeons to share our ideas”, and resorted to arrests without mercy. All the prisons were full. But in March they arrested Pătrășcanu and his friends, mostly Jews, all with doctorates from abroad. So there was no more opposition. Then they decided: “Why wait for re-education? Old people can’t be re-educated. Let’s starve them to death,” and they instituted a regime of cruel starvation and repression. They put wooden shutters on the windows to keep out the sunlight, exercise was greatly reduced and the food became disastrous: 600 calories a day per prisoner. Hunger began to bite. It was something terrible. I felt it in every fibre of my body. I felt it not only with my stomach, but with my brain and with my whole being.
There is the pain that comes from sickness, or from the torments of the soul, from a longing for something that cannot be fulfilled, like the longing for the land, the longing for the homeland and the native places.
But these can rarely be overcome. But there is also the pain of hunger. It’s cruel. You feel yourself melting away day by day. Your strength diminishes, you fade like a candle that has gone out. You sit down, you can’t go for regular walks, and later you can’t go out at all. And then you can’t eat the little food you are given, and one day, not caring, you close your eyes. We’re looking for economy of strength. We avoid anything that might weaken the body in any way.
No stories about rich meals and parties. Nothing to upset your mental balance. We didn’t allow ourselves to complain about dying. No! We must look at death heroically, beautifully, uprightly, as something inevitable, as a relentless destiny imposed by others.
We must be cheerful, serene and gentle, without hatred, without cursing our oppressors, to overcome the idea of revenge in the hypothesis of salvation, to rise above the misery in which we are rotting, to be men in the image of God. We asked our cellmates to tell only beautiful, happy, serene, clean stories. Let us only tell jokes that do not pollute our imagination, our spirit or our sensibility.
The controversy in the discussion was stopped. Let not the capital of perseverance be weakened.
Everything was well measured. For silence and help from above, prayer in silence, each one alone. It is forbidden in public, so let’s do it discreetly, so as not to arouse the wrath of those who lurk in the shadows. If we are asked to renounce it, let us resolutely refuse. If we are beaten, as has sometimes happened because we prayed, let us receive the beating with patience, resignation and silence.
If we are asked to give up all debates and political concerns, let us accept the request immediately. But if we are asked not to give spiritual help to a prisoner who needs it, let us resolutely refuse. After everything has been taken away from us, let us at least retain the power to do a little good. This is our right, which no prisoner should renounce.
Now that some are dying in front of our eyes, the need for spiritual help is even greater. Now this right of ours has the opportunity to manifest itself. Not only a word of comfort, but sometimes a smile in the midst of terrible oppression has its meaning. It is important not to lose our cheerfulness, our joy, our confidence, our serene smile. Those who see us in this way will be encouraged. And that’s a lot, because in difficult circumstances they are like a force that is transmitted to the one who looks at you. And each one needs the help of the other. These states must be natural, not imposed by us as a pose, but coming from our inner state as a natural manifestation of it.
(Fr. Nicolae Grebenea – Memories from the Darkness)