An image impossible to forget for as long as I live

It is difficult for me to begin to write a personal testimony about “Uncle Ilarie”, because I “baptised” him, together with my sister, when he was only a few years old. He was my mother’s maternal uncle, our grandmother, born in Țara Moților, where he saw the light of day, and the one who would become the priest Prof. Dr. Ilarion Felea. He was born into a Moți family where his father was a priest.

There is something special in the structure of the Moți people, not just my impression or opinion. The whole history speaks for itself.

The Moți people, were people of great strength, great courage and love for their oppressed people. I believe that every Romanian in every part of the country knows the echoing names of our history: Horea, Cloșca, Crișan and, a little later, Avram Iancu – the charmer of the mountains – all brave and courageous men who did not hesitate to fight the fearsome Austro-Hungarians to the point of supreme sacrifice. They are rightly honoured as true heroes of the entire Romanian nation, just like Saint Stephen the Great.

In Vata de Sus, a few kilometres from Tebea, there is the tomb and monument of the great Avram Iancu and the Gorun of Horea. In the same land of Zarand, the one who would become the Saint of Ardeal was born, the great and devoted confessor of the Romanians, Father Arsenie Boca.

I was born in Bucharest, far from Arad.  However, from a very early age, I spent several weeks at the house of my uncle Ilarie and “aunt Valeria” in Arad. Their house was not far from the old Orthodox cathedral of the city. It was there that Father Ilarion Felea used to celebrate Liturgy and give wonderful sermons to the students and intellectuals of the city who couldn’t get into the church, in parallel with the work he did with all his heart at the Faculty of Theology in the city, where he was eventually appointed Dean.

I do not want to repeat what others have written about the biography and the activity of the priest Ilarion Felea in the course of time, but my desire is to bring to life the portrait of this special man given by God, who, out of great love for our Lord Jesus Christ, chose to become a shepherd of human souls, in which holy capacity he fulfilled the mission given to him until the last moment of his life.

For this reason, I would like to recount here what I remember from the age of 5 to 7, when our uncle was imprisoned for the last time, never to return to us alive. But his soul was with all of us who loved him. We always felt it.

I have a vivid memory of one of the rooms in the house in Arad. It was evening and Uncle Ilarie had returned home after a long day of work that required his presence. I can still remember the light of the lamp that was on when it was time for us children to go to bed. I can still see him, feel his warm presence beside us, hear his soothing words, which always had the gift of sending us into a deep, peaceful sleep. He lovingly taught us how to pray, but he told us in words that were easy to understand for our children’s minds, why it was necessary and good to pray, to whom we should pray and what our prayer would lead to. It was from him that we received our first catechetical lessons, without realising that he was teaching us anything, everything seemed to be a particularly beautiful reality that surrounded us with love and much light. With his soft, baritone voice, he told us things about the faith that I would find much later, when I read the Sacred Scriptures on my own.

What I want to emphasise in my words is that our uncle, who at that time was much attacked and beaten by those who were envious and who had made a pact with the enemy, let absolutely nothing trouble the souls of our children, because his role was to set us on the right path. That’s all he saw and did. He was a man gifted by God with great faith and love for those around him, with the care to educate all the young people (among other things this was a main task: that he never stopped preaching to the youth about Christ) in our Orthodox faith inherited from our ancestors, the only way that leads to salvation. In this way he was able to form our souls and hearts in such a truly blessed way that we have never left the path of the Lord that he showed us in our early lives, from then until now. This is the truth. Praying a lot, attending Holy Liturgy in difficult times, going to the monasteries with my parents were always part of my childhood and youth and that of my sister. In those days it was a great and pleasant surprise for the nuns and monks who gave us hospitality to hear us naming without fail the saints in the icons that adorned the guest rooms.

What I find very difficult to write about now is his final trial, which led to his imprisonment for 20 years. I carry in my heart the pain of that day when Uncle Ilarie came to Bucharest, where I lived, to talk to us, my family, and perhaps to see us for the last time. He always hoped for the best, but he respected God’s will. He did not complain, he did not compromise, he did not give in.

I remember the day he arrived, he had a prayer book for the children, for my sister and for me. I have that little book with me and now, thousands of miles away from the country, I have never left it behind because it was “sacred” to me, given to me by Uncle Ilarie, the martyr and hero of our family.

May God rest him in righteousness! I believe, I know, that his soul is with God.

(Cristina David, née Niculiu)