Ordinary Men - #3 Father Van Thuan: Witness of Hope
Ordinary Men - #5 Father Van Thuan: witness of hope
We continue with the "Normal Men" column in which we wish to rediscover some personalities and their testimony of life. "Normal Men" are human beings; they therefore include both males and females. At times when we perhaps find in ourselves a propensity to grasp of life and the world "bad examples," we believe it is important to rediscover people who have lived responsible lives leaving marks that we can grasp and make our own today.
Francois-Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan was a Vietnamese priest arrested and imprisoned by the communist regime without charge or trial. He spent thirteen years imprisoned, nine of them in solitary confinement, thus suffering a very harsh prison regime. Once freed he was appointed by Pope John Paul II "President of the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace" (1998) and was later invested with the office of Cardinal (2001). On Oct. 22, 2010, the diocesan phase of the beatification process was opened and ended on July 5, 2013.
But to tell the story of Father Van Thuan's life, biographical data are of little use. His testimony lies not in having suffered great injustices, but in having embraced those injustices by turning them into opportunities to create relationships of friendship, love and forgiveness. No life event, no matter how dramatic, has in itself implicit, "automatic" consequences. If it did, Man's freedom, the supreme condition of our being Human, would be compromised, obliterated, annihilated. Father Van Thuan's example thus teaches that in the face of any event, no matter how dramatic, it is always possible for us to react by perpetuating the evil suffered or by creating, even from the worst evil, the highest Good.
The following is an excerpt from his book "Witnesses of Hope" and a 2001 interview he gave to the "Now Together" program of the Maria Madre Nostra Community. High words, as perhaps only the words of forgiveness know how to be; words spoken in a low voice, in the humility that comes from the awareness of having received as a gift that strength, that capacity for acceptance of which one did not think oneself capable.
[In 1998 Pope John Paul II appointed him president of thePontifical Council for Justice and Peace].
"I lived thirteen years in prison, nine of them in solitary confinement. It seems natural to talk about forgiveness because, I say this as a former prisoner, the love of Christ is the only thing that matters.
There is no alternative to love.
I learned that Jesus first forgives.
And he does not have a memory like mine! For He not only forgives and pardons every person, but He also forgets that He has forgiven so great is His love.
And love does not reason, measure, calculate, remember offenses or set conditions.
It is love that prepares the ways for the proclamation of the Gospel.So I did with my jailers. I loved them. More times than not I suffer inwardly because the mass media want to make me tell sensational things, to accuse, to denounce, to excite strife, revenge ...
This is not my goal. My greatest desire is to convey my message of love, in serenity, truth, forgiveness and reconciliation.
Mother Teresa of Calcutta once wrote to me, "The important thing is not the number of actions we do, but the intensity of love we put into each action."
In the thirteen long years in prison, in solitary confinement, I learned to choose God and not God's works.
I became aware that God wants me here and not elsewhere. And in a reeducation camp, with 250 prisoners almost all of whom were non-Catholics, I prayed, "Lord, you send me here to be your love in the midst of my brothers and sisters, in hunger, in cold, in hard work, in humiliation, in injustice."
Praying in this way, I never lacked peace. I spent nine years in solitary confinement. Every day I celebrated Mass around 3 p.m.: the time of Jesus agonizing on the cross. They were the most beautiful Masses of my life.
In solitary confinement I was first assigned to a group of five guards. Two of them were always with me. However, the leaders changed them every two weeks with another group so that they would not be "contaminated" dames. Later they decided not to change them anymore, otherwise everyone would be contaminated!
At first the guards would not talk to me, they would only answer "yes" or "no." It was really sad. I wanted to be nice, courteous to them. But it was impossible, they avoided talking to me. I had nothing to give them as a gift: I was a prisoner and even the dress I was wearing was stamped in big letters with the words "re-education camp."
What could I do? One night a thought came to me, "Francis, you are still very rich. You have the love of Christ in your heart. Love them as Jesus loved you." The next morning I began to love them, to love Jesus in them, smiling, exchanging kind words.
I began to tell stories about my travels abroad, how people in America, Canada, Japan, the Philippines,Singapore, France, Germany--the economy, freedom, technology live.
This stimulated their curiosity and prompted them to ask me so many things. Slowly we became friends. They wanted to learn foreign languages, French, English .... My guards became my schoolchildren! The atmosphere in the prison has changed a lot. The quality of our relationships improved a lot. When they saw the sincerity of my relations with the guards, they not only asked me to continue helping them in their study, but also sent new students. One day, while talking to a leader, I proposed to write a Lexicon of religious language from A to Z, to make them understand the structure, history, development of the Church, and its activities. They gave me the paper. I wrote this 1500-word Lexicon in French, English, Italian, Latin, Spanish, Chinese and with Vietnamese translation. So slowly with explanation, with my response to questions about the Church, and also accepting criticism, this paper became "a practical catechesis."
So twenty guards set out to study Latin to understand the church documents. One of these guards asked me if I could teach him a hymn in Latin.
"There are so many and so beautiful!" I reply. He proposes, "She sings them to me and I choose."
I sang him "Salve Regina," "Veni Creator," "Ave Maris Stella."
He chose "Veni Creator."
I can't tell you how moving it was to hear every morning a communist policeman come down the wooden ladder, around 7 o'clock, and go to wash up singing the "Veni Creator" throughout the prison!
When there is love, you feel joy, peace because Jesus is in our midst. In a prison in the mountains, on a rainy day I had to cut wood. I asked the guard, "Can I ask you a favor?" He said, "What? I will help you!" Me: "I would like to cut a piece of wood in the shape of a cross." He: "Don't you know that it is strictly forbidden to have any religious sign? It would be extremely dangerous for the two of us!" Me: "I know, but we are friends and I promise to hide it. Close your eyes, I will and I will be careful!" He went away and left me alone. I cut out the cross and kept it in a piece of soap until my release. With a metal frame that piece of wood became my pectoral cross.
In another prison I asked my guard for a piece of electric wire. He startled, "I studied in police school and I know that if someone wants to commit suicide they want an electric wire." I explained to him that I am a Catholic priest and have never thought about suicide. I just need the wire to make a chain to carry my cross. He conquered his fear and after three days sent his companion on a free ride and showed up with two tongs.
Together we did the work. And that chain I wear today to hold the pectoral cross.
They are not just a reminder of prison. Rather, they indicate my deep conviction and a constant reminder: only Christian love can change hearts. Not weapons, threats, the media.
It was difficult for my guards to understand how to forgive and love enemies. Reconcile us. They were constantly asking me, "But does she really love us? Even when we hurt her? Even when she has been in prison for years without judgment? And when she gets free will she send her friends to harm us and our families?" I would reply, "Yes, I love you sincerely. In this time lived together I have truly loved you and if one day I am free I will continue to love you even if you want to kill me." They did not understand and asked me why. "Because Jesus taught me to love you. If I don't, I am no longer worthy to be called a Christian." They would tell me, "It is very beautiful but hard to understand." In the Gospel, Jesus, seeing the crowd that followed him for three days, said "Misereor super turbam" (Mt15:32), "they are like sheep without a shepherd" (cf. Mk 6:34). In the dramatic moments, in prison, when I was almost exhausted, without strength to pray or meditate, I looked for a way to summarize the essentials of my prayer, of Jesus' message, and I used this phrase, "I live the testament of Jesus." That is to love others as Jesus loved me, in forgiveness, in mercy, to the point of unity.
The greatest mistake is not realizing that others are Christ!
Servant of God Cardinal Francois-Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan,
Witnesses of Hope, Rome 2000
Interview with Cardinal Francois-Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan - Mary Mother Our Community, 2001