Saint Valeriu Gafencu, the New Martyr of Romania, at Targu Ocna (1952) and Hilarion, Daniel Tudor and John New Confessors and Prisoners Martyrs of Romania
Commemorated on February 18
“Communism filled heaven with saints,” said Father Arsenie Papacioc.
Among the many portraits of the confessors, one will be found in particular that is recalled with reverence by all and is considered a saint: Valeriu Gafencu. Nicknamed “the saint of the prisons” by Father Nicolae Steinhardt in a truly inspired moment
Through his sacrificial love springing from a perfect dedication of his life to Christ, he remains painted in the most luminous of colors in the hearts of those who knew him. Father Gheorghe Calciu wrote, “I have no doubt that he is a saint. He lived the word of God to such a level that it was incomprehensible for us.” […]
Devoting themselves to the prayer of Jesus, studying and learning texts from the Holy Scripture, the Philokalia, and other patristic writings, these prisoners were to form, in the Communist prisons, a philocalic way of life. United in their desire to sacrifice themselves for Christ, these monks in spirit – for as we shall see, they lived a high level of asceticism at Aiud – supported each other, preparing themselves for the difficult trials which were yet to come. […]
These prisoners who were monks at heart, clothed the conditions of prison life in monastic garb.
“Prison created special conditions for you,” says Virgil Maxim. “Your cell became a sanctuary of prayer, of nourishment, an opportunity for ascesis, solitude, renunciation of the material goods and joys of life, an opportunity to live as paupers, in purity and chastity. The chronic uncertainty of our situation enabled us to put our trust in the will and providence of God. Obedience requires a superior – a father confessor – to whom one submits, and God also offered us this gift through the presence of our priests. We were also obedient to the program imposed by worldly authority, as an act of divine pedagogy, in which your will enters consciously in submission to the divine will.”
“It is impossible for someone [free], outside of prison, to understand”, Father Gheorghe Calciu tells us. “…in prison I lived the most spiritual life. I attained to spiritual heights that I am not capable of reaching in freedom. Isolated, anchored in Jesus Christ, I had a joy and an enlightenment that the world cannot offer. I can’t find the words to express with precision the feeling that I had there. Those that did not live this experience cannot understand how we could be happy in prison.”
Valeriu Gafencu lived such happiness – beyond our understanding – in spite of suffering. Virgil Ioanid remembers how, on the road between two prisons, in a police van, laid low by tuberculosis, his cheeks bright red with fever, Valeriu spoke of “the happiness of suffering for Christ and of enduring, like the first martyrs, the persecution unleashed by the enemies of the faith.” After arriving at Aiud, Valeriu lived under a harsh regime. For a long time, as he later confessed, he spent much time in isolation, being taken out for a walk only an hour and a half per day. The beginning was not at all easy.
In the midst of this spiritual grinding, he sought an answer in the books that were circulating in prison.
“He had read a lot in his life, but now he only read one book: the Bible, and those related to it—the Philokalia, the Patericon. (One was still allowed to read in Aiud until 1948.) And he prayed. On a hill in the midst of an alfalfa field there were ruins of an old aban¬doned church, which Valeriu would frequent. Lacking a roof, the church was exposed to storms and tempests, and it was here that Valeriu prayed.
Spiritual books helped him see things more deeply and turn more toward his inner self. In the solitude of his cell he prayed very much, seeking to understand the meaning of suffering. After a time of tormenting unrest and struggle, he experienced through the grace of God a state of enlightenment in which he saw his soul full of sins.
“After a time of much uneasiness, after experiencing a great deal of pain, when the cup of suffering had filled up, there came a holy day, in June 1943, when I fell to the ground, on my knees, my head bent, my heart shattered, in a burst of tears. I prayed to God that He grant me light. At that point I had lost all faith in people. I realized perfectly well that I was in truth, but then why was I suffering? Within my zealous soul only love had remained. No one understood me.
“During this long period of weeping I began to do prostrations. And suddenly – O Lord! How great art thou, Lord! – I saw my soul full of sins, I found within myself the root of all the sins of mankind. Alas, so many sins, and the eyes of my soul, hardened by pride, had not seen them. How great is God!
“Seeing all my sins, I felt the need to shout them forth and cast them away from me. And a deep peace, a deep wave of light and love poured into my heart. As soon as the door opened, I left my cell and went to those whom I knew to love me and to those who hated me and to those who had most wronged me and I confessed to them openly, ‘I am the most sinful man. I do not deserve the trust of even the last among men. I am blessed!’
“Everyone was astounded. Some looked at me with disdain, others with indifference. Some looked at me with a love that they themselves could not have explained. A single person said to me, ‘You deserve to be kissed.’ But I fled quickly back to my cell, threw my head into my pillow and continued my weeping, thanking and glorifying God.”
This moment of enlightenment was a true rebirth for Valeriu. The most immediate benefit of the awareness of sins is the understanding of the meaning of suffering.
“Suffering, no matter how difficult it may be, has no other meaning than the cleansing of souls thirsting for salvation.”
“From Valeriu I acquired the habit of revealing everything that was on my soul to my brothers, practicing what can be called ‘brotherly confession.’ Confess your sins one to another (James 5:16). I cultivated myself in this way through the influence of his moral courage.
“Valeriu affirmed that there are two paths to salvation: one — normal and suitable for most — through marriage; the second path — suitable only for the few who are called — through monasticism. At first, he tried the former path. Wanting to marry, he proposed to an old friend in freedom. Being refused, he resorted to the second path: he vowed to become a monk when he was set free. His resolution was enough for God, and God took him to Himself; He no longer had need of further evidence of faith from him.”
The prisoners who came into contact with Valeriu saw him not so much as a man but as an earthly angel. Whereas before he had been a leader and inspirer of the youth, now he poured forth the love of Christ on all. Alexandru Virgil loanid recounted: “My first impres¬sion was particularly powerful. It seemed to me that he was emanating an unceasing river of love and a brilliant energy. It made me think of the aura around St. Seraphim of Sarov. He was for me, without a doubt, a charismatic personality. However, we did not stay in the same cell, as I would have desired.” Among those who knew Valeriu in prison was the twenty-two-year-old George Calciu. Years later, as a priest, Fr. George spoke of the influence of Valeriu Gafencu on the younger prisoners: “It was enough just to see him and pass by him, to immediately feel the influence of Gafencu. We men who were freed from prison were moved many times. So Gafencu might spend time with some four hundred different people as they moved through the cell. The moment they were in the cell with Gafencu, they completely forgot any bad thought, any rebellion against Jesus Christ. A church was established there in the cell. There were young people, rebellions, conflicts, and so on, but he changed their soul and mind. Therefore, his memory is greatly revered, and the people who stayed with him in the same room still pray to him as to a saint.”
His life was a model that many followed. Illness and suffering had put a heavy stamp upon his body. The look in his blue eyes, however, shone serenely, full of kindness. Whoever had the eyes to see could read in them great meaning—–love for God and man.”
“In the long evenings and nights of winter, Valeriu would call us next to him, in order to exchange thoughts about our Christian conscience. On one such evening he asked me the most profound and essential question, something that I kept with me for the rest of my life: ‘What do you think is the fundamental purpose of life?’ I tried hard to formulate the richest answer in content, but I think I failed to render the core of the truth. Valeriu’s answer was: ‘I consider the chief aim of our life to be a continual preparation for the day of the Christian resurrection. On that day, men and nations will present themselves before the supreme judgment, with their good deeds and their sins, resulting in their proper placement in the heavenly hierarchies.‘ Perhaps I had heard such or similar things, but they had passed over me like water over stones. The way Valeriu expressed them—with a thrilling vibration in his voice and a heavenly depth in his eyes—struck my soul like a bolt of lightning that transformed my inner world for the rest of my life. He practiced the ‘prayer of the heart,’ a hesychastic practice which he had started years before, so that now the prayer was self-moving without ceasing, to the rhythm of his beating heart.
“The passing of time has strengthened my conviction that I have never met another Christian personality so powerfully developed in both height and depth. His concern for Christian salvation went far beyond himself and even Romania. He was deeply interested in the Christian flowering of Orthodoxy and he thought constantly about the final destiny of man. He would not make reference to the time that had passed or to the time until our deliverance. I realized that he had transcended the normal limits of time and space, and was living in the dimension of eternity.”
Targu Ocna had become a spiritual sanatorium. A system designed to make men into demons had been used by God to make saints. Valeriu Gafencu was clearly aware of God’s mercy and strove to make those around him understand this. A hidden spiritual life was blooming, and there was nothing the authorities could do.
The winter of 1951-52 found Valeriu approaching a state of complete physical collapse. In early February, 1952, Valeriu knew that his earthly end was imminent. On February 2, the Feast of the Meeting of the Lord, Valeriu asked Nicolae Ittul to find him a candle and a white shirt. These he said he needed before February 18. He also said that he had a little metal cross, given him once by a girl he knew, which he wanted put into his mouth on the right side. He told Nicolae, “Wash me and clothe me, because on February 18 I am departing from you.“
The morning of February 18 dawned. During the medical rounds he thanked both the woman doctor and the Major Sergeant from the bottom of his heart. At approximately 10:00 a.m., Valeriu asked Ittul to summon his closest ones to him so that he could say farewell. In the face of death he expressed no terror, but radiated an angelic serenity.
At noon Valeriu was given a meal, but he refused it. He was preparing to enter the other world in full consciousness up to the last minute. At his bedside Ittul and Lungeanu were praying, while Valeriu was perspiring profusely. Then, between 2:00 and 3:00 p.m. in the midst of fiery prayer, his pure soul ascended.
His last words were: “Don’t forget to pray to God that we all meet there! Lord, give me the servitude that sets the soul free and take away the freedom that enslaves my soul!” His grave remains unknown for at that time all the prisoners were buried in a common pit and their head was smashed so that it would be beyond recognition. However, he asked to be buried with a small silver cross in his mouth and if God allows his holy relics may be found.
Through the prayers of the holy martyr, Valeriu, O Lord Jesus Christ our God, have mercy on us and save us! Amen.
Tortured for Christ
In 1951, both Valeriu and Pastor Wurmbrand were deathly ill with tuberculosis in Targu Ocna, an infirmary prison. Although medicine was almost impossible for prisoners to obtain, one of Valeriu’s co-strugglers did manage to receive some in a package from his family. His medical condition having stabilized, he gave it to Valeriu, who was near death. Valeriu, in turn, secretly offered it to Pastor Wurmbrand. The result was that Richard Wurmbrand lived, while Valeriu Gafencu died. Before Valeriu reposed, Pastor Wurmbrand confessed to him, “I would like to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven by the same gateway as you.” Valeriu was only thirty years old when he passed from this world. Interestingly, Richard Wurmbrand was to repose on the eve of the forty-ninth anniversary of Valeriu’s repose, thus being linked in death with the man who had once saved his life.
On February 17, 2001, Pastor Wurmbrand passed away at the age of ninety-two in southern California… He told of the tortures and the heroism of the Christian prisoners; he told the stories of many Orthodox confessors. “I have seen Christians in Communist prisons with fifty pounds of chains on their feet,” he wrote, “tortured with red-hot iron pokers, in whose throats spoonfuls of salt had been forced, being kept afterward without water, starving, whipped, suffering from cold, and praying with fervor for the Communists. This is humanly inexplicable! It is the love of Christ, which was shed into our hearts.” {Richard Wurmbrand, Tortured for Christ (Glendale, Calif.: Diane Books, 1967), p. 57}.
“Always Rejoice”
The first man was a priest who was put in jail at the age of seventy. His name was Surioanu. When he was brought in with his big white beard and white pate, some officers at the gate of the jail mocked him. One asked, “Why did they bring this old priest here?” And another replied with a jeer, “Probably to take the confessions of everybody” [i.e. before they die]. Those were his exact words.
This priest had a son who had died in a Soviet jail. His daughter was sentenced to twenty years. Two of his sons-in-law were with him in jail—one with him in the same cell. His grandchildren had no food, they were forced to eat from the garbage. His whole family was destroyed. He had lost his church. But this man had such a shining face—there was always a beautiful smile on his lips. He never greeted anyone with “Good morning” or “Good evening,” but instead with the words, “Always rejoice.”
One day we asked him, “Father, how can you say ‘always rejoice’—you who passed through such a terrible tragedy?”
He said, “Rejoicing is very easy. If we fulfill at least one word from the Bible, it is written, ‘Rejoice with all those who rejoice.’ Now if one rejoices with all those who rejoice, he always has plenty of motivation for rejoicing. I sit in jail, and I rejoice that so many are free. I don’t go to church, but I rejoice with all those who are in church. I can’t take Holy Communion, but I rejoice about all those who take. I can’t read the Bible or any other holy book, but I rejoice with those who do. I can’t see flowers [we never saw a tree or a flower during those years. We were under the earth, in a subterranean prison. We never saw the sun, the moon, stars—many times we forgot that these things existed. We never saw a color, only the gray walls of the cell and our gray uniforms. But we knew that such a world existed, a world with multicolored butterflies and with rainbows], but I can rejoice with those who see the rainbows and who see the multicolored butterflies.
In prison, the smell was not very good. But the priest said, “Others have the perfume of flowers around them, and girls wearing perfume. And others have picnics and others have their families of children around them. I cannot see my children but others have children. And he who can rejoice with all those who rejoice can always rejoice. I can always be glad.” That is why he had such a beautiful expression on his face.
“Heaven’s Smile”
Let me interrupt to tell you about another Orthodox Christian. He was not a priest, but a simple farmer. In our country, farmers are almost always illiterate, or nearly so. He had read his Bible well, but other than that he had never read a book. Now he was in the same cell with professors, academicians, and other men of high culture who had been put in jail by the Communists. And this poor farmer tried to bring to Christ a member of the Academy of Science. But in return, he received only mockery.
“Sir, I can’t explain much to you, but I walk with Jesus, I talk with Him, I see Him.”
“Go away. Don’t tell me fairy tales that you see Jesus. How do you see Jesus?”
“Well, I cannot tell you how I see Him. I just see Him. There are many kinds of seeing. In dreams, for instance, you see many things. It’s enough for me to close my eyes. Now I see my son before me, now I see my daughter-in-law, now I see my granddaughter. Everybody can see. There is another sight. I see Jesus.
“You see Jesus?”
“Yes, I see Jesus.”
“What does He look like? How does He look to you? Does He look restful, angry, bored, annoyed, happy to see you? Does He smile sometimes?”
He said, “You guessed it! He smiles at me.”
“Gentlemen, come hear what this man says to us. He mocks us. He says Jesus smiles at him. Show me, how does He smile?”
That was one of the grandest moments of my life. The farmer became very, very earnest. His face began to shine. In the Church today there are pastors and theologians who can’t believe the whole Bible. They believe half of it, a quarter of it. Somehow they can’t believe the miracles. I can believe the whole of it because I have seen miracles. I have seen transfigurations—not like that of Jesus, but something apart. I have seen faces shining.
A smile appeared on the face of that farmer. I would like to be a painter to be able to paint that smile. There was a streak of sadness in it because of the lost soul of the scientist. But there was so much hope in that smile. And there was so much love and so much compassion, and a yearning that this soul should be saved. The whole beauty of heaven was in the smile on that face. The face was dirty and unwashed, but it held the beautiful smile of heaven.
The professor bowed his head and said, “Sir, you are right. You have seen Jesus. He has smiled at you.”
“A Good Confession”
There was a brigade in Romania which was only for priests, bishops, pastors, rabbis, and laymen—whoever was in prison for his faith. One day a political officer came to inspect that brigade. Everybody stood at attention, and at random he called out a young man (whose name was Coceanga) and asked him, “What have you been in your civilian life?”
And he replied, “Sir, what I have been in my civilian life, I will be forever. I am a priest of God.”
“Aha, a priest! And do you still love Christ?”
The priest was silent for a few seconds—seconds as long as eternity, because he knew that his eternal destiny would be decided in those seconds. The Lord said, “Whoever confesses Me before men, him I will also confess before My Father who is in heaven. But whoever denies Me before men, him I will also deny before My Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 10:32, 33).
And then after a little meditation, his face began to shine—I have seen so many shining faces—and with a very humble but very decided voice he said, “Captain, when I became a priest, I knew that during Church history thousands had been killed for their faith. And as often as I ascended to the altar dressed in those beautiful, ornate robes, surrounded by the respect and love of the congregation, I promised to God that if ever I had to suffer, if ever I wore the uniform of the prisoner, I would still love Christ.”
“Captain,” he went on to say, “I so pity you. We have the truth, and you have whips. We have love, and you have iron bars on prison cells. Violence and hatred is a very poor argument against truth and love. If you were to hang all the professors of mathematics, if all the mathematicians were hanged, how much would four plus four be then? It would still be eight. And eight plus eight would still be sixteen.
“You can’t change the truth by hanging those who speak the truth. If all the Christians were hanged, it would still remain so that there is a God, and He is love. And there is a Savior; His name is Jesus Christ, and by confessing Him a man can be saved. And there exists a Holy Spirit, and a host of angels around the earth. And there exists a beautiful paradise—you can’t change the truth.”
I wish there was a way to convey the tone with which he said those words. We, the others, were ashamed because we believed in Christ, we hoped in Christ, but this man loved Christ as Juliet loved Romeo and as the bride loves the bridegroom.
Communist Prison in Romania by Richard Wurmbrand
Don’t be afarid. Don’t doubt. My Son will be victorious, the world belongs to Christ! Mother of God said to St. Valeriu of Romania
https://iconandlight.wordpress.com/2017/12/23/20977/
Apolytikion of St. Valeriu Gafencu and all New Confessors and Prisoners Martyrs of Romania, in Plagal of the First
Flowers of Romania, planted by God, children of the Church true and faithful, let us exalt, O faithful, as martyrs of Christ; for they competed brilliantly, confessing Christ before the atheists, and were worthily crowned, in His glorious kingdom.
Kontakion 4
Fear and trembling comest upon thee, O father, and darkness over shadowed thy soul, but waiting on the Lord, the Conqueror of Hades, voiceless thou becamest and together with the Prophet, only in thy heart thou could whisper: “In the shadow of Thy wings I will hope, until all these iniquities shall pass away” or “I waited for the Lord that saveth me from faint-heartedness and from tempest” while the angels in thy place raised up the song: Alleluia!
Akathist Hymn of the New Confessor, Father George Calciu
Prokeimenon. Grave Mode.
Psalm 63.11,1
The righteous shall rejoice in the Lord.
Verse: Oh God, hear my cry.
The reading is from St. John’s First Universal Letter 3:9-22
BRETHREN, no one born of God commits sin; for God’s nature abides in him, and he cannot sin because he is born of God. By this it may be seen who are the children of God, and who are the children of the devil: whoever does not do right is not of God, nor he who does not love his brother. For this is the message which you have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another, and not be like Cain who was of the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his own deeds were evil and his brother’s righteous. Do not wonder, brethren, that the world hates you. We know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren. He who does not love abides in death. Any one who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him. By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us; and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. But if any one has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or speech but in deed and in truth. By this we shall know that we are of the truth, and reassure our hearts before him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God; and we receive from him whatever we ask.
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