In prison prayer was the only food, the only reason for survival

In prison, prayer was the only nourishment, the sole reason to survive. Within the penitentiary walls, a regime of extermination prevailed—first and foremost through unbearable hunger. We were parched, weakened, and sick. More than once, I was confined in the cooler, where death seemed inevitable.

We wore only thin coats, and though the cold of winter was relentless, summer held its own dangers.

The cooler was a small, cement cell, five metres high. Sitting was forbidden; one could only rest on the floor from ten in the evening until five in the morning, otherwise one had to keep moving. Even breathing demanded effort. Yet, in those moments, I nurtured a blessed curiosity, wondering if the soul might depart from the body. It did not. The official maximum confinement in the cooler was seven days, but I was held for only five, as many did not survive. We were constantly checked to ensure we were alive. Each prisoner occupied a separate cell, though being together brought warmth and solace. I often thought the angels in heaven must have envied us, for they had not endured such suffering.

Many extraordinary things occurred—signs impossible to recount fully. These experiences demand reverence; speaking of them diminishes their spiritual beauty. Yet it was evident that God was present among us.

Such grace cannot be attained without sacrifice. One cannot achieve it without the Cross, for it entails bearing what is unbearable. Humanity’s great failing is the inability to endure suffering and the failure to understand that suffering is the sole path to confront evil under the devil’s dominion.

Through the Cross, Christ saved the world. The Cross is the most glorious reality on earth. When the Saviour was on the Lake of Gennesaret and instructed His disciples to sail ashore, a violent storm arose, waves crashing over the boat. In despair, the disciples cried out, “We are perishing!” Yet the Saviour, who had authority over the waves, responded: “Did I not give the command well?” Indeed, He had, yet the disciples resisted, seeking a life without waves, without sacrifice, without the Cross.

I say, as Saint Theodore the Studite teaches: those who flee persecution flee from God. The Church requires persecution—it awakens us, keeps us vigilant, and strengthens our spiritual struggle.

We have the Mother of God, guardian angels, and the gift of knowledge; by grace, we can be like gods. Every moment holds the potential for salvation. If we fail to live fully in the present, the future slips away with it.

Thus, the present—though fraught with neediness—must ignite the heart in every way. It is the only time truly ours, the greatest gift God grants: the gift of life itself.

(Fr. Arsenie Papacioc)