Father Toma Gherasimescu – “figure of a saint consumed by suffering”
During my imprisonment in various prisons, I met priests of different rites, more or less conscientious, more or less cultured; but the most distinguished figure of the Orthodox clergy, to the point of martyrdom, was the priest Toma Gherasimescu, Doctor of Theology and Professor of Religion at the Normal School for Boys in Cernăuți.
It was there that he received his doctorate in theology. With the money he got from the sale of the property he had inherited from his parents, he bought a printing press and printed his own religious pamphlets, prayer books and a four-page bimonthly paper called “Orthodox Sheet”, of which I was a member of the editorial board for two years while I lived in Cernăuți. We barely made ends meet by selling prints. After classes, or even late at night, on my way home, I would find him working in the print shop, at the long table full of unfinished works, correcting the print of which he was the author, translator and printer. With a serene face, blue eyes full of kindness, he had the appearance of a Christ from Byzantine icons. We were good friends and he insisted that I return to Cernăuți. The war, with all its evils, thwarted our plans. When we met in Aiud, he was unrecognisable; I found him in one of the cells to which I had been transferred. He was lying in bed. The guards tormented, insulted and mocked him. Because he had a beard, when he was taken out for questioning they would stick their hand in and pull it out until they had hair between their fingers. He took it without flinching. I can still see his saintly figure, consumed by suffering, with his blue, gentle eyes that radiated light, openness and boundless kindness around him. I thought the day of liberation would never come. But in 1967 I received a long letter from him, urging me to visit him in the monastery on the hill where he was interned. He was working on the translation from Greek of some ancient religious books. I couldn’t go immediately, and shortly afterwards I learned from a mutual friend that he had passed away at Dealu Monastery, where he is also buried. I regret to this day that I did not hurry then to respond to a saint’s plea.
(Ion Antohe – Hidden crucifixions in Romania after Yalta, Albatros Publishing House, Bucharest, 1995, pp. 338 – 339)