Metropolitan Bartholomew Ananias, “the man without deceit”

I was a lay student in Bucharest in the 1970s, and my sister, who went to school in Sighetul Marmației, told me that a wonderful play was performed there: “The Star of the Bison”. Moreover, the author was a priest, and not just any priest, but an archimandrite who was on mission in America at the time. The name stuck in my mind and when I had the chance I bought some of his books.

When I became a priest, reading Valerius Ananias’s writings was a real spiritual joy. In the spring of 1990, during my first ordination, the parish priest, Ioan Petraș from Târnăveni, invited Archimandrite Bartholomew Ananias. My joy was great and since then we have maintained a special spiritual friendship.

When I became Archbishop of Cluj in 1993, I felt that he was close to me in all the turmoil that a world in transition was causing us and which we wished to be better. When he was installed as Metropolitan of Cluj, Alba, Crișana and Maramureș on 25 March 2006, he gave a speech that ended with a sentence of sad joy: “I, too, am experiencing the joy of today, and my joy is nothing other than the joy of a swan that, before going to lie down among the reeds, is already convinced that a long line of white wings will glide behind it, ready to fly under the sky of Transylvanian history”.

Now the “swan song” has ended. His Beatitude Patriarch Daniel, at his funeral, called him “a missionary among intellectuals”. We are aware that a great man of Romanian faith, culture and spirituality has gone to eternity, and we cannot emphasise enough his complex personality as a theologian, dramatist, poet, writer, translator, excellent orator and, above all, an energetic and categorical hierarch. In the administration of the Church, he asked us to be “God-fearing, objective and transparent”.

When Metropolitan Bartholomew turned eighty, I wrote a “word” and entitled it: “Man Sent by God”. Now that he has gone to be with the Lord, I asked myself: what could I write? Especially knowing that His Eminence was a man of the pen par excellence. And I thought I’d start with his name.

His married name was Valerius, a Latin name derived from the verb “valere”. Translated into Romanian, it means “to be strong, to be healthy”. The monk’s name was Bartholomew, which means son of Tolmay, the patronymic name of the apostle also called Nathanael. In Romanian it would mean “the gift of God”.

I believe that the name that Metropolitan Bartholomew bore says something about his powerful personality. Therefore, starting from the name, I would like to focus on some of the characteristics of His Eminence.

Throughout his life, Metropolitan Bartholomew was, as his name suggests, a strong man. Anyone who knew him or read his memoirs will realise that he was able to overcome all his difficulties because he was a strong man. During the student strike in Cluj in 1946 (of which he was the leader), or later in the communist dungeons, he showed great courage.

But not only then, but also now, when Romanian society has been struggling to recover for twenty years, it has needed firmness in many circumstances; and Blessed Bartholomew had it! Even in cases where his opinions were singular, he defended them tenaciously.

We are well aware, then, that in the struggle to regain the position that the Church deserves in Romanian society, Metropolitan Bartholomew’s voice has been heard. Not always “heard”, but “heard” because it was sonorous. It was not for nothing that some nicknamed him “The Lion of Transylvania”. Therefore, we can say that he was, as the name says, “God’s gift”. He said what many of us did not dare to say.

When Philip brought Nathanael (Bartholomew) to Christ, the Lord said a great thing: “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom is no deceit!” (John 1:47). We human beings are tempted to cunningly hide our thoughts and our weaknesses. Metropolitan Bartholomew did not. From his memoirs we can see how sincerely he admitted his shortcomings and weaknesses. That is why, like his patron, we can call him “a man without guile”.

In the fight for the “better” he was often left alone, either because those around him could not compete with him or because they were afraid. And as for the good of our nation, as he says in his plea for the Church of the Nation, it consists in “moral unity, unity of faith, unity of language, unity of patriotic conscience and unity of national territory”.

We are convinced that now that he has entered eternity, he can say with St. Paul: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing” (2 Timothy 4:7-8).

And in the sad and melodious Transylvanian dialect, we sing to him:

“His eternal memory,
Up in heaven to immortality,
Where sleep is sweet and sweet,
May he rest forever! Amen”.

(Archbishop Andrei Andreicuț – Tabor Magazine No. 1, Year V, April 2011)