Autobiography given in the custody of the Securitate (17 July 1945)
I was born on 29 September 1910 in Vața de Sus, Hunedoara County. I attended primary and secondary school in the small town of Brad, in the same county. From that time I noticed a certain inclination towards solitude and religious matters, even beyond my powers at that time. For example, I have a book by Immanuel Kant: “Religion within the Limits of Reason”: “Boca Zian cl. IV. lic.”
When I entered secondary school, I was orphaned by my father, who was a shoemaker by trade and a very good teacher of his son. I still remember that he once beat me so that I would stop wasting my time – something I promised him with tears in my eyes and which I have never forgotten, and which has often served me well in life.
At school I loved: maths, physics, religion, drawing and music. When I finished high school and took the baccalaureate at the first presentation, I was inclined towards the positive sciences, but if I had the wealth or the guarantee of tutors, I would have studied aeronautics at Cotroceni – which I didn’t have, poverty prevented it. That’s why the contemplative or speculative inclination prevailed and in 1929 I enrolled at the Theological Academy in Sibiu.
While studying theology, I sold my parents’ house in order to continue my studies. I also had a scholarship. I did not ask my mother for any help, nor did I accept any, since she was divorced from my father and I was given to my father by the divorce decree, as he was more certain to send me to school because of my profession. During my theological studies I became aware of the beauty of the face of monastic life and wanted to educate myself as thoroughly as possible, especially in the mystical side of life. On this occasion I had the following characteristic notes: I accustomed my mother as much as possible without my presence and without correspondence, so that she would somehow forget me and it would not be difficult for her when she found out that I had become a monk. Then, since I had left Brad, I had set myself a certain strict discipline, which had many details that were hard to believe. For example, I made it a point not to meet any girls during my time in theology. I didn’t succeed, because in that year, 1929, the Ministry allowed girls to study theology, and I met some of my colleagues. But I succeeded in not making any acquaintances in the city. I managed to do that all the time I was studying theology, although I was also a member of “Gh. Dima Music Reunion” in Sibiu, under the direction of N. Oancea, which was mixed. I had the problem of the will in controling the senses. Even more, I was interested in studying the comparative mysticism of various higher religions, to see through my own experience how far the sphere of the will extends into the realm of the soul and biological life. I was interested to see if it was true what the books say about reflex actions and instincts, that they are independent of the will and the control of consciousness. My personal experience, however, proved to me that the action of the will and of consciousness can also extend to instincts and reflex actions, according to a certain variability. Mircea Eliade’s studies in Ecutta, sent by the University of Bucharest for oriental studies, also helped me in deepening my understanding of this subject. Some of these studies were printed in the “Magazine of Philosophy” in Bucharest and ended up to me in that way.
All this interested me to find out and to prove it in order to make a use of it when becoming a monk. I did not go to the city, but stayed in the schoolyard that had an open gate. I did not go out with my classmates unless it was in the interest of the school, of a teacher or accompanied by teachers, as was the case with the music meeting. I didn’t dance and I didn’t learn to dance. My father had taken care of me in this way – and especially as a theologian, I could not imagine doing so.
I was completely indifferent and ignorant of the lives of others outside the walls of theology. All my concerns were and still are internal, not external. I have hated talking for as long as I can remember. I even chose the monastic name because Avva Arsenios had chosen the need for silence, through which he was inwardly perfected.
My bachelor’s thesis at the Theological Academy summed up my quest for this inner perfection of man and was entitled: “Essays on the Spiritual Life”. I finished my theological studies in 1933.
I spent my holidays painting.
Painting extended my schooling. When Metropolitan Nicolae Bălan found out that I had this talent, he sent me to the Academy of Fine Arts in Bucharest the following year, 1933/34, where I graduated in five years. My main teachers were Francisc Șirato, Costin Petrescu and Father Reiner, the latter from the Faculty of Medicine. I was often unable to attend medical school because of student strikes and riots, which upset me because I was wasting time and knowledge of anatomy and anthropology with my teacher, who was often unable to teach his course. It was only then that I became aware of the student political movements, which made an unpleasant impression on me. I did not join the student movements, in fact or in law, because the Academy of Fine Arts was not considered part of the university, but a separate school. So we at Bellearte were treated as separate from the students who could enrol in the Bucharest student centre. We were completely outside any student movement or enrolment in any political movement.
I spent my time in Bucharest never neglecting school. I was never sick enough to miss school. I worked a lot in the workshop. In the spring I would leave at 5 in the morning and return in the evening for dinner to the Radu Vodă boarding school where I lived. I stayed at the boarding school for three years, so it was a guarantee that I was not wasting my time. There were also students from the Legion who called us there. I never went. The school absorbed me completely and I had no time to waste. (My childhood struggle against wasting time followed me like a guardian angel).
I studied very hard. Whatever time I had left at home I spent reading and discussing theology with another of my colleagues who was studying at the conservatory. It so happened that I once liked the mystical writings of St. John of the Ladder very much and translated them into Romanian in the course of 5 months. It helped me a lot to complete my conviction to enter the monastery.
At that time the Legionary movement was in full swing and was being discussed everywhere. Being politically independent, I was not inclined to join the movement. Then it happened that no one called me. My only participation was this: when Moța and Marin came back from Spain, dead, I went out with casual colleagues through the courtyard to the sidewalk of Calea Griviței street, where the convoy from the North Station to Calea Victoriei passed. Our academy was on Calea Griviței. So we saw part of the convoy and the two dead. That’s all.
Later, when I read the Bible, I saw that the last world mission is from the Jews, possibly from a Jewish idea.
I finished Belleartele well, I did the year of practice, but it was shorter; I went to the Holy Mountain, sent by the Metropolitan Nicolae Bălan, to learn the monkhood there. When I left, the strictest checks were carried out, and no one who had ever been a legionnaire was allowed to leave the country. I, who had absolutely nothing to my name, was given a passport for Europe “sans Russie” by the police prefecture in Sibiu.
And since I was a deacon, I also obtained special permits from the three Patriarchates: of Romania, Constantinople and Athens, as well as from the two governments: Romanian and Greek, so that I had nothing suspicious to my credit, but simply a call to inner perfection through the craft of monasticism.
I returned to the country on 8 June 1938. I remember the date when I entered the country through Moravitsa and saw the Romanian flags, on that 8th of June.
From that day until Easter of the following year, when I entered the monastery, I collected painting tools, materials, which I had learnt in Chișinău with some Russian craftsmen, the “cicanca” gold polish and other things necessary for a painting workshop.
On the Spring Friday after Easter 1939 I was made a monk and received the name Arsenios.
For one year I was the first and only monk in the monastery of Brâncoveanu – Sâmbăta de Sus, Făgăraș County. I had no time to paint. The second year was the same. Until I took care that I didn’t learn painting in vain. It happened at that time that people came to us with their worries and their devotion to the monastery and the monks. Father Serafim Popescu had also entered the monastery. I asked him to receive the priesthood – I felt unworthy. He received it. So we started holding the services in the monastery the way we could.
One winter, probably around 1941, we were faced with an avalanche of people of all ages and classes who begged me to talk to me about their problems. I found myself ministering to people even though I wasn’t a priest. I knew that everything that happened to people was because of their mistakes or sins. So I was forced to accept the priesthood and the great mission to preach Christ – the true God and the true Man – and to sanctify man so that he may have the peace of God within himself, no matter what circumstances he finds himself in life. I taught them to be pure to man and to God, to render to Caesar what is Caesar’s (civic obedience, taxes, etc.) and to God what is God’s (a pure mind, a purified soul and a body cleansed of sin).
As witnesses of this teaching, all those who have listened to the stories of God that I have given them are witnesses of me: love of God, love of all people without distinction, and a pure life that allows us, the fulfilers, to return to the Kingdom of our origin, from where God sent us for the short search of our goodness and love on earth, in the stage and arena of life.
This is my whole mission and purpose on earth, for which He has endowed me with gifts, even though I am unworthy. For this I am called everywhere to proclaim the love of God and the sanctification of men through love.
I am a stranger to other thoughts and ministries.
(R. Valchia. 17 July 1945 – Hieromonk Arsenios)