Dialogue with Father Grigorie Băbuș from Cheia Monastery

Archimandrite Grigorie Băbuș, librarian of the Holy Synod Library at Antim Monastery in Bucharest, is now retired at Cheia Monastery. Fr. Grigorie is in his venerable 90s. He was a classmate of Father Sofian Boghiu and a classmate of His Beatitude Teoctist. A survivor of communist prisons, he is still a strong and determined man. He entered the monastery as a child. Also in Cheia, where he now spends his old age.

– I was born in Teișani, Prahova County, the third of ten children. At the age of 13 I finished the 5th grade.

At Cheia Monastery we had our elder, my father’s uncle, who was the abbot. He asked my father for a boy to take to the monastery as a helper. My father thought of me because my elder brother had started school and he couldn’t stop. One day I went to Cheia with my aunt to be there for the monastery’s feast day – the Holy Trinity. We entered the old man’s house and he received us very well. He was a strict man, a hard man, hard on himself first and then on the convent. He was a top abbot, he didn’t allow any weaknesses, if you weren’t for it, he asked you to leave. So I entered the monastery at the age of 13. It was an important moment for me. I hadn’t finished 5th grade and we went to the Teleajen River to bathe. I was with two other classmates, and coming out of the water – our house is in the field, not connected to the village – we saw the carriage coming out of the gate. “Oh my, my boys,” I said, “it’s my uncle, the Abbot of the Cheia, he’s come to fetch me!” And he has. He comes out of the gate and we meet, “Hello, Hello”. “Well, are you coming?” “Yes.” I didn’t hesitate for one second.

– What was His Holiness’s first name?

– George. And we met, I kissed his hand. “Come, are you leaving?” “Yes, I’m going.” I turned and went into the house and dressed as the man and sat beside him in the carriage` and went to Cheia. What did I know, I was a child! I had no idea what it was, what the monastery was… But he understood. After a few weeks he began to show me: do this, do that, show me what to do. After a few weeks, the old man, the abbot, goes down the hill with the carriage. There were no cars, there was no other means of transport; it was the monastery carriage that he used, and with a cradle so it wouldn’t rattle. And he took me to Izvoarele, where the monastery’s metoc was: “If you like, go home and come back tomorrow morning. Will you go?” “I’ll go.” I went home, happy to see everyone, and stayed one night. The next day I had to go, the Elder was waiting for me. I left the house through a garden and I started to cry: I was leaving home.

– Homesick?

– Yes, I was leaving home. And I didn’t know what my future would be. It’s as if I was destined for this job.

– Father Gregory, how do you think a man should end up in a monastery? I saw you arrive as a child. How should a man decide to enter a monastery?

– My dear, that’s another matter. When it happens to you, as it did to me, it’s one thing, but in the course of life you make other decisions. For example, he comes of age. He hasn’t married yet, and then he’s in a dilemma: what to do? There are people who think about it and then look for a monastery. If they get it, they get it; if they don’t, they don’t.

– Does it have to be a very strong decision or is it better to listen to an inner urge?

– Perhaps such a strong decision is formed along the way. Because not knowing the regime, not knowing the atmosphere, not knowing the people, no one stays. I was like the “child of the convent” and I never said: “I don’t want to”.

– Did you never feel special in the convent?

– No, on the contrary, I was the man of the house.

– Did you go to Mass at that age?

– Of course I did.

– What was your schedule?

– I had the housework programme, which was the permanent household programme, and I didn’t miss church. I sat in the pew and watched what was said and sung.

– Did you understand?

– Well, I had to understand. I had a deacon there who had a very good voice – and I learnt psalmody from him.

– You still have your voice at that age…

– Yes, of course. I used to sing in the pew. I sang too, but the Fathers used to tell me: “Tone it down, tone it down, you’re drowning us out!

– Where did you go to confession in the convent? To the Elder?

– No, I had another Elder, a former student of the abbot, an old man…

– A rough man too, or did he take care of Your Holiness when you were a child?

– He was a good confessor. He was a very good confessor!

– A priest?

– Oh, the confessor didn’t scold me. He did his duty and was very gentle. My Elder was harsher. Well, sometimes I would do something and my Elder would tell me loudly: “Hey, what’s the matter, aren’t you getting silly?”

– Father Gregory, don’t you ever miss your friends from home?

– No, not at all. After another month he took me away again; being a very good psychologist, he realised that it was not easy to suddenly cut me off from my family. I didn’t realise that “the old man” was not trying to force things, and that was fine.

– Were there other children in the convent? Young people?

– There weren’t. A year later Father Macarie arrived. There weren’t many young people.

– Time passed and you left school?

– I finished school, primary school, the monastic regime from 1928 to 1936, I did all my asceticism in the monastery. I quickly learned to cook, to wash, to keep the house clean.

– That was elementary for a monk.

– Yes, I was a blessing for my Elder because he didn’t need to bring anyone else, I did everything. Even the cow I had there, I’d go and milk it. And I’d come back with the milk. I knew how to beat the milk, how to get the butter out. I did everything with joy.

Father Gregory experienced the communist prisons

– Darling, in ’58-’59 I went for a walk. I was picked up by the Securitate and spent five years in prison. After 5 years I came back. Patriarch Justinian, with his hands raised, said to me: “Welcome, my son! I was thrilled by this welcome. He received me in an extraordinary way. In the Patriarchal Cathedral, only Father Benedict Ghiuș and I were received. He made I don’t know how many “requests” to the Department of Cults to confirm us as hieromonks. And finally God helped and confirmed us. The Patriarch went for a walk in the park: “Grandfather…” – I was going to vespers in the evening – “you must go to the Department of Cults”. “Yes, Your Beatitude, I say, tomorrow we have decided to go. We went to the Department of Cults, where Dogaru was in charge, very dignified, full of life, I knew him from the Patriarchate, from the Palace. But this time he was like this: frowning and stubborn. Father Benedict Ghiuș was there, I was there on the chair: “What do I advise you? To forget!” I mean, years and years of prison sentences, we had to forget.

– Forget these sentences…

– Yes… I’ve forgotten. Good. Once. Second: “When you’re gathering, when you’re together, let there be a third”… Communist system, dear. I laughed to myself. “How naive and stupid”, I thought. Good. I’m finished. Father Benedict Ghiuș had the gift of speech, he spoke and I thanked him too. I left. From here I went about my business.

– But where did security pick you up? From the Antim Library?

– No, from home. From the chapel, from the Patriarchate. Well, you see… I was the last. One night he came and took Father Ananias with him.

– Bartholomew?

– Yes, the current Metropolitan of Cluj. Ten minutes later he picked up Archimandrite Benedict Ghiuș, who, you must believe me, was a rare, rare figure… An extraordinary man in every respect. Beautifully educated. In any case, he was sought after by people who wanted to hear his word.

– Were you afraid that security would come to the library?

– Why should they? I didn’t have to, there was someone there I was afraid of, who told me off. There was a Dănescu, a party member – and there were enough of them to say: “Look what Băbuș has done”. That was enough. And maybe they would arrest me again. I had reason to be afraid. It was in ’65 when I took over the library of the Antim monastery.

– Did Patriarch Justinian give you a guarantee?

– My dear, here was our salvation… Personally, from prison, I did my accounts – because I knew we could not return to our posts – and I thought: at least a cantor in a church, to be a priest there too. When I arrived, Patriarch Justinian greeted me with raised hands: “Welcome, my son! I was clean-shaven, I only had a moustache.

– And you didn’t have any problems with the Securitate after that?

– No. I have heard from others that they were harassed, questioned… Many were even followed. Probably those who were more politically active. We’ve been picked up in droves…

(Monks’ World Magazine, Year I, No. 3, September 2007)