An emblematic father of Romania at the end of the millennium
A picturesque figure. With his patriarchal beard, always neatly combed; with his broad-brimmed hat, like a nimbus around his concentrated face; with the lap of his cloak fluttering, not in the wind, but with his swift gait; with a black gullet, burled in winter, around his neck; with his omnipresence in so many meetings, from those of the humblest schools to those of the most sociable societies, with the way he always notices and greets everyone, smiling and benevolent, with kind words of healing; as you see him reading deeply, his old-fashioned glasses always seeming to slide down the tip of his nose; the way he always nods his head when he listens to others (“Yes! Yes!”); the way he gives blessings and hugs or kisses everyone who approaches him on the crown of his head; in all this and so much more, Father Galeriu is an unmistakable presence that sanctifies the places he passes through. Father Galeriu is one of those characters who so beautifully mark and characterise the troubled Bucharest of this end of the millennium. A complete description of our urban life at that time would not be correct and complete without mentioning his figure and his work. And that in extenso.
Of all the great fathers of contemporary Romania, he is undoubtedly the best known, both in ecclesiastical and secular circles. This is due, on the one hand, to his achievements and, on the other, to his tireless omnipresence. He is a father who not only expects the faithful to come to him in church, but who often goes out into the world to do good. There is no subject that he does not address, however strange it may be.
Lord. I’ve heard many of those who are not really introduced to those of the Church address him as “Mr. Galeriu” (not even as “Mr. Father” in Transylvania), which sounds a bit bizarre to a believer. In reality, in a spiritual sense, he is a true gentleman, in the sense that, by grace, he realises the likeness of the Lord.
A (slightly) airy character. Father loves and often repeats the definition of the ancient Holy Fathers that “evil is the absence of good”. That’s why he can hardly perceive the existence of evil, except at best in an abstract, impersonal way. In this respect, many consider him a little naive, easily to be deceived. He seems to float majestically in a reality that is, or will be, necessarily divorced from evil. This is even more evident when he appreciates others: they are all good, and when they are not so good, they become “the poor man” or “the poor thing”. Perhaps this helplessness is also due to the fact that His Holiness is the bearer and herald of goodness, so that evil withers in a good way around him. And if the Father is a little breezy, it is certainly due to the breeze of liturgical air that he blows over the sacred vessels at Mass, while we confess our true faith.
A great (liturgical!) actor. This is particularly evident in the way he speaks. In fact, he was a student of the theatre. His gestures, from those of his head to those of his hands, the way he raises and lowers his voice, are not only the art of eloquence, but also that of the stage. The truth is that he practised this art with talent and charm. Even if his monologues are often of Wagnerian length. This talent was for him the net with which he caught many a goldfish, as a fisher of men. At the same time, it is quite clear that Father likes to go out not only in the sunshine, but also on the ramp. But it is a ramp from which we can launch ourselves towards the heavens, towards the Holy Trinity who dwells there, tenderly waiting for us.
The Argentinean guard. Like every lay priest, with all his monastic constitution and appearance, Father Galeriu has around him (for life!) a priestess whom those close to him lovingly call “Miss Argentina”, with a smile full of (un)meaning. Miss Argentina is justifiably annoyed by the avalanche of requests that fall daily on the priest’s (apparently too) bowed head. It tries to salvage what can be saved of his strength and time, to put up some sort of filter in the face of abusive fans. The result is bleak. Only those who don’t know her at all take any notice of the priestess. Others treat her as a natural part of the landscape, with her role and her charm, but know that with a little persistence she can be overcome. What’s more, the intruders benefit from the complicity of the father, who seems to be sabotaging his wife from within. When the priestess says she can’t, the priest behind her smiles encouragingly and urges her to persevere. A “Leave it Argentino!” seals the priestess’ thoughtful capitulation. But I have the impression that she too has long since realised that, paradoxically, it is this suffocating crowd that ultimately gives the priest life and strength.
An atemporal man who always has time. Adored priest, university professor, head of a family (more and more), lecturer and overworked interlocutor, confessor probably sought out by thousands of the faithful. One wonders how Father can cope with so many demands, especially when one considers his age and the fact that his health has always been on a knife edge (fortunately, the strength of his spirit has compensated for the frailty of his body). He doesn’t know anyone and doesn’t want to turn anyone away. He finds time for everyone. The drama is that enough of those who claim to love him don’t understand how to protect him in any way, they overwhelm him with all their pettiness. Or, who knows, maybe, as I said, it’s these constant attacks that give him strength. In any case, if you want to maintain a closer, ongoing bond with the parent, you need to practice abdication to a high degree. There’s always a queue for him!
A great “prodigal”. Father keeps nothing for himself. He shares everything, and above all he shares his life with everyone. There is no “private life” for him, everything is open and for everyone, for the poor with the social state and for the poor with the spiritual life, because we are all poor in one way or another and we all need parental love and inheritance. When he was a prisoner in the Canal, someone told us, he immediately shared the entire contents of the parcel he received from home, while everyone else tried to keep something for themselves.
Father also has a weakness: books! Those who know him either take it for granted and come to him, considering each book he “lends” as a gift already given, or they avoid making any more.
An “annoying” man. For some, especially some of his confreres (guild jealousy?), Father Galeriu can be annoying. He is annoying because of all his qualities, which in some cases they may consider as faults: his calmness, his availability, his prayerfulness, his appeasement, his lack of apologies, etc.
It is true that because the priest is a man who tries to be (good) to everyone, which is not always possible, he ends up being taken advantage of, more than once, being put in inappropriate company, which exposes him in some way.
A paradoxical man. It happens that the father can solve very complicated things in a simple way, especially those with a strong spiritual content, but becomes very complicated in solving other very simple things, of an obviously formal nature. It is therefore the former that we must look for.
A man of unselfish love. What a man expects from another man is, above all, a little attention. When that attention comes in the form of a prize of great value, with a bag full of talents, the man standing before him realises that he too has importance in this world in which he can often feel lost and insignificant. A fabulous memory helps the parent to call thousands of people by name and to recall details of their lives at the right moment. This is flattering and comforting to any man who cares to be counted not as a nameless sheep in a prestigious flock, but as a unique and important person, if not by great deeds, at least by the fact that a drop of Christ’s blood was shed for his redemption.
For his part, the Father also needs love, and he knows that no one else can bring you a glimmer of love, but a great investment of love. But even so, you are never at a loss.
A man of prayer, obedient to God. There are mysterious (sometimes mystical) things that you can only realise through personal experience, which you then have to bear witness to. After all, this is what we all expect from the great confessors: that when we are in trouble, they will come to our aid with efficiency and get us out of trouble. To be a “pill” for God. And it is in this work that Father Galeriu has so often revealed himself, first of all to the faithful, but on many occasions also to the less faithful. His strongest point is that he is a man of constant prayer, a prayer made above all for others. One could collect thousands and thousands of testimonies of how Father Galeriu, with the rope of his prayer, drew so many people back from the abyss with great power (…).
A father in the true sense of the word and of the Word. Among the persons of the Holy Trinity, it is not so much Christ who seems to be the primary model for Father Galeriu, but rather the Heavenly Father. He is the Father by definition. He is a good father for everyone, for the simple as well as for the intellectuals of the race. His words, like those of Christ, have levels for everyone. They contain both scholarly quotations and generally accessible stories. Even when he repeats himself, his speeches never become tiresome, because of the authentic and intense life that generates and nuances them.
A friend of God. In the end, what is important is that the Father has travelled this journey from servant to friend of God (cf. Jn 15:14-15), remaining throughout this existential journey an exemplary servant of the Church (that is, of Christ and of man).
The friendship of the fatherhood facilitates the friendship of his spiritual sons. As such, it’s beneficial to accompany him!
(Costion Nicolescu – Salt of the earth – crossings, encounters, accompaniments, Doxologia Publishing House, Iași, 2011, pp. 180-183; material originally published in the leaflet of the parish “Saint Elijah” Gorgani, Bucharest)