Christmas in the Cavnic mine camp, 1953

Christmas time

Christmas is coming. It is snowing over the Gutin Mountains like in a fairy tale. A blanket of snow the likes of which we’d never seen before. From this point of view, the winter of 1953/54 will go down in history as the snowiest winter on record. The huts were connected by snow-covered roads. The huts were dressed in white and the smoke rose from the chimneys like a column of infinity.

The landscape is like a poem by Coșbuc. Everything recalls the Christmas of my childhood. In the cottages, in the gallery, everywhere carols are sung. A wave of nostalgia and sadness sings through our souls. How many more Christmases will we celebrate in the prison or dungeon?

How stirring the carol of the prisoners in Siberia is:

“We gather at the window of memory
We sing the carols of yesteryear…”

With the echo of carols in our hearts, we enter the year of our Lord 1954.

(Fr. Liviu Brânzaș – Ray from the Catacomb)

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