About the hidden epitrachelion
I had three periods of imprisonment. In the first, from 1942 to 1943, in Pitesti, I had a “nice” life: I could read books, the Bible, there was a chapel. The winter service was held by the prison priest in a chapel room. In the second imprisonment, the first Easter was in Jilava, in the Reduit, rooms 9 – 12. It was in the spring of 1949. And then, although it was a harder time, the New Testament was in circulation. I was a student at the Faculty of Science, Department of Geography. At first I was able to resist, also thanks to the strong spiritual influence of Father Toma Chiricuța, from the Zlătari Church. He put a lot of emphasis on the Resurrection, so in prison I concentrated more on this teaching. I was in prison with two priests: a Macedonian, Nicolae Levu, and a Moldavian, both Orthodox.
In fact, during the 12 years I was imprisoned, everywhere I went I met only Orthodox priests – and many of them. The Uniates were isolated in Sighet. At Jilava, in 1949, the administration gave us a tub with a mix of juice of potato peels and sand for lunch at Easter. “Well, bandits, you should feel that it’s Easter!” But it was pure joy, because, I don’t know how, but someone found, in a little corner… traces of red eggshells. Probably from a guard. It was a great joy, because we made a connection with the celebration outside… In the second half of 1949 we were transferred to Pitești. Students were sent to Pitești, intellectuals to Aiud, workers to Gherla, pupils to Târgsor and women to Mislea and Miercurea Ciuc. I had heard nice things…
That they would let us study, that the Communist Party would set us free. I was also there with some doctors from Cluj. I had some problems with my leg, T.B.C. in my knee. Despite the restrictions, I was lying on the bed, but a guard saw me, took me and took me to the “casimca” – a dark and dirty cellar. Half an hour later I found Ghiță Calciu with me. He was a medical student at the time and had protested on my behalf.
Towards the autumn we began to understand what was to come. Terror began to settle in our hearts, we heard noises, screams. In December, or even earlier, our re-education began. God helped me because at the end of May I was transferred to Târgu-Ocna because of tuberculosis. But at Easter, in Pitești, after a terrible period of hunger, they gave us a hearty meal, two three-course meals, thick harpacaș, with traces of bacon. The poor people jumped on the food. I don’t remember having any trouble, but many people had dysentery.
They done it on purpose. So… so God gave me to be taken out of Pitești. Before Târgu-Ocna, a prison sanatorium, in fact a place where prisoners with serious tuberculosis were gathered to die, I went with great fear to a new selection, to Văcărești. What if they send us back to Pitești? We understood that there was something there to beat us up, to destroy us. I remember that one night I collected myself and left everything to God. A great silence followed. Shortly afterwards, I was transferred with others to Târgu-Ocna. If I had gone back to Pitești, God knows what would have happened to me! That’s why you should not even dare to judge them, the people have gone through unimaginable hardship.
It’s inconceivable what they could do to them, what tortures some of them could endure. I wonder how they escaped, oh God! So… one evening I arrived in Târgu-Ocna – it was a spring evening, with the scent of lime trees and the moon in the sky. Some old Indians were waiting for us, from the old guard, with some big rifles. We, that were used to “Move, bandit!”, we were hurrying up… One of them said to us: “Wait, guys, slow down…” When we heard that word, we couldn’t believe it. Then we saw a building lit up. They took us to a room with eight beds, with mattresses! In Pitești or Jilava we had bunk beds, two or three of them, and we were much more than normal. Here the windows had no shutters, and the toilet was in a separate room. It was… bliss! The next day we were stunned. They took us out into the yard, unimaginably, to meet the others! Grass on the ground, we were laying on it, it was great. Of course, it wasn’t always like that. The medication was the worst. The political officer made treatment conditional on being an informer. And, oh my God, some of them fell for it… I remember that once, when we had some streptomycin, an person from Ardeal gave it to Valeriu Gafencu, who was seriously ill, but he gave it to Pastor Richard Wurmbrand. In time, many weak and seriously ill people began to die. At one point a Holy Scripture was inserted. Texts were then learnt by heart.
In Târgu Ocna, near the prison, there was a monastery on Măgura Hill. Every Sunday you could hear the bells. During Holy Week, Good Friday and Easter, people would go up to the hermitage. You could hear singing, you could see the lights of the candles that the faithful carried up the serpentine. It meant a lot to us. We knew there was someone else in a church, someone praying for us.
There was an episode before Easter that disturbed us: there had been a chapel in the old prison building, now demolished. They had taken down the cross and brought us clothes, priestly garments, to use as floorcloths in the wards. God, when we realised, we hid them wherever we could. In the cracks in the walls, in our clothes. I got hold of an epitrachelion and sewed it into the lining of my coat. In Târgu Ocna, when death was imminent, they made us wrap ourselves in our clothes. Well, I hid it, and after a few years I managed to get it out. I have often asked myself: is there a connection between this epitrachelion and the fact that I left geography and went into theology? In prison, with the imprisoned priests among us, we had the opportunity to confess and receive Communion. Like in the catacombs, we would go to a corner, confess most of the time on the way and catch the moment to receive the crumb of Communion… Hey, a lot of people died there… There was not one who died without having received Communion.
(Fr. Constantin Voicescu)