Costache Oprișan – “a great man, a true saint”
Where there was unity, deep faith and prayer, there was perseverance. The Securitate divided us in such a way that in every cell there was a man who was destructive, either morally or physically. In our cell they put Costache Oprișan, who spat out his lungs – I’m not making a figure of speech, he actually spat out blood clots and pieces of lung every morning. In the second cell there were two lunatics, in the third cell the same, one with mental instability. They all died in the cell with the two lunatics! We resisted because we were grouped around Constantin Oprișan, who was a great man, a true saint!
– He was also one of the most famous legionaries of the time, wasn’t he?
Yes, he was the head of the Brotherhood of the Cross in the country. He was a sort of brilliant intelligence. This man, everything he did, he did to perfection. He’d been through Pitești. He was physically destroyed. Probably mentally too, but he’d recovered. He had such a deep faith and serenity that he spread light around him like the saints! He was detached from all worldly things and lived in almost constant prayer, interrupted only by conversations with us. He never complained about his illness, never blamed anyone for what had happened to him. He forgave everyone and always spoke to us about forgiveness and love. I remember that there, in Casimca, during the experiment that the Securitate was carrying out on us, on our souls and bodies, from time to time people would come, from the Securitate or the Party, I don’t know where, dressed in civilian clothes, with cold faces, who would open the door and look at us for ten minutes, fifteen minutes, half an hour! They didn’t say a word, they just looked at us like a doctor looks at a sick person, and then they left. They left a kind of horror and I felt something demonic in them. And when we began to talk about it, Costache Oprișan told us: “Sinners are saved and criminals are saved! Leave them alone!” And his attitude really converted our souls – because we’re talking about conversions…
– How could he, so sick, resist in Casimca?
He was practically brought here to die. The conditions were clearly for extermination. Water ran down the walls, there was constant damp, the mattresses underneath us stank. And Costache was in serious condition. Every morning his lungs were cleaned. He had to cough, cough a lot. He would cough up phlegm, pus, maybe even pieces of his lung, and the whole ritual made you feel as if your chest was breaking. Our cell was very small: two beds on the right, two on the left, the water barrel and the bedpan. And when I sat next to him and saw all the pus coming out of his lungs for the first time, I felt nauseous and ready to vomit. Then Costache stopped for a moment, looked at me and said with his eyes, “Forgive me!” I felt very guilty and because I had studied medicine for two years, I decided to take care of him. I bathed him, I fed him all the time until he died…
We did everything we could to save him, or at least to prolong his life. For example, since we had no medicine, I remembered that penicillin is made from mould. We used to put pieces of bread under the damp in the evening, and in the morning the mould would grow two fingers high. We would take this mycelium, dissolve it in water, put it in gauze and hold it to Costache’s nose so that he could breathe air, breathe through it. And I’m convinced that this mycelium treatment prolonged his life by several months. But we wanted him to stay with us forever, because he was our saint. Costache was the peanut we all clung to. He was bedridden, physically horizontal, but spiritually very upright and lifted up to heaven. And I am convinced that his presence there was intended by God for us. None of those who had the demonic experience in Pitești were abandoned by God. (…) God has brought before us people who have saved us. He sent Constantin Oprișan to us in Casimca. (…)
After the hell of the fall and the doubts before, it was truly paradise. We had a line, we had courage, we had strength. I used to argue with the guards about Costache Oprișan! I used to get beaten up, but the blows didn’t hurt any more, or anything else! (…)
– No one betrayed you in your cell?
No, and that’s thanks to Costache. If it hadn’t been for him, we might have lost our way, I don’t know what would have happened to us. Or maybe God wouldn’t have let us. In any case, he was our angel.
I’d like to ask you something else. Many prisoners I have spoken to have told me that in prison God has warned them in various ways about certain things that are going to happen. Have you had any such warnings?
No, no…
Or maybe in a different way?
No. In my second imprisonment, when I was already a priest, I had some signs. But here, in Casimca, I felt God’s presence. I also had a dream that I didn’t understand until later. One day I was arguing with the officer in charge of Costache Oprișan that the regime was violating its own constitution with regard to him. And then the officer punished me with seven days in solitary confinement. (…) I was there for seven days. On the third day, I was tired and I heard my father’s voice calling me three times: “Gheorghe, Gheorghe, Gheorghe!”. Then I woke up because they put someone in the next cell. It was Costache’s brother…
– Constantin Oprișan’s brother?
Yes, he’d been arrested too. I told him that I was in the cell with Costache and that I didn’t think he would get out alive. A month later, Costache received a letter from the Securitate asking for his wife’s wedding ring and other personal belongings. They wanted to know if he was dead or alive. (…)
– Tell us about the death of Constantin Oprișan!
We were constantly watching Costache so that he wouldn’t die. That day I heard Marcel say: “Ghiță, Ghiță, Costache is dying!”. I felt as if something inside me had broken. I turned to his bed and saw that he was dying. He had such a small head and such a thin, bony face! And his eyes had the veil of death. I was frightened and began to cry: “Costache, Costache! I called him back. And he woke up. He came to. When he saw me, he got really scared. He made himself small, as if he wanted to get into the pillow, and started moaning and crying like a baby. I kept asking myself why Costache was crying. What had he seen? Marcel and Joseph, who were more optimistic, said that we had brought him back from a beautiful world where he had gone to this world of suffering and sin, and he was frightened. I liked that version. But I think he was afraid of me. He saw me with all my sins and he was afraid of me. Then the guard came and made us take him outside. We put him naked on a stretcher and took him outside. Joseph and I took him out. Marcel stood there and cried the most.
– Do you remember exactly what day it was?
I don’t remember, but Marcel does, he wrote it down.
– I asked him and he doesn’t remember. He says it was in June, early summer…
Yes, it was early summer, it was beautiful! There were flowers, there was wonderful vegetation! When I went outside and saw how beautiful the world was, the blue sky, the flowers, the grass in the yard, I said, “Who cares about us? Costache is dead, we will die tomorrow. Neither the sky, nor the people, nor the guards care about us! The flowers are still so beautiful, the sky is still clear!” It was towards sunset and I saw Costache like this, in this light. He was completely yellow. I think that at the moment of his death, the bile poured into his blood. He was as yellow as a saffron flower. But Joseph made a gesture: he bent down, tore off a flower and put it on Costache’s chest. And Costas lay face up, and he put it on his chest. The guard shouted: “What was that?! I’ll teach you a lesson!” But Joseph replied, “Sergeant, you can teach us a lesson, but Costache got away.” We looked back again. The sun was going down and there was a golden light. And we saw Costache’s golden body. It was an all golden body and a blue flower on his chest. That’s the last picture I kept.
– What was it like after his death?
When Costache Oprișan died, it was as if something inside us broke, and for a few months we were disoriented. It was me, Marcel Petrișor and Iosif Iosif. We felt like little children abandoned by their father. But Costache Oprișan had given us enough to live on in spirit after his departure. And we survived because we were united, because apart from small disagreements we had no major conflicts. Since then, I have often called on Costache Oprișan to give me a sign. He didn’t give me a sign, but before he died he told us that if God would listen to him, he would pray for us and we would all be saved. He said we’d all get out, the three of us. And it happened!
– Do you still feel his prayer for your sanctity today?
Sure, and in spirit we are together all the time. I always ask him to pray for us.
(Fr. Gheorghe Calciu – The Life of Fr. Gheorghe Calciu According to His Testimonies and Those of Others, Christiana Publishing House, Bucharest, 2007, pp. 60-66)