I've said this before since we've moved to Europe, and I will say it again. It's fascinating to hear real people tell stories that I've only read in high school history books or tried to imagine when viewing a place that marks European history.
Father Placid is one of those real people. At the age of 94 his mind is still sharp and his humor delightful.
Last weekend Dennis and I had the privilege of meeting Father Carl Olofsson, or Father Placid (the name given by his order of St. Benedict) in his 3rd story flat, the same flat he and his sister were raised in. Two hours later I had pages full of notes.
Father Placid was unable to finish his Benedictine schooling due to his arrest by the occupying Soviet Communist police in the spring of 1946.
He recalled entering what is now a museum in Budapest aptly called the House of Terror, once the former headquarters for the secret police of both the Nazi and Communist governments. The secret police terrorized, tried, deported, or executed anyone suspected of being an enemy of the state. Studying to be a priest was considered one of the Soviet penalty codes.
"Once anyone entered the threshold of this building, they were no longer a human being. If anybody wanted to kick me, they would." He spoke of night interrogations. Two spotlights zeroed in on his naked body, except for the sandals on his feet, while slanderous statements were meant to break him down.
He raised his hands in the air and with a triumphant voice declared, "The Soviet Union did their best to ruin me, but where is the Soviet Union today?"
He couldn't sit down in his private cell. He'd take one step forward, then one step back, and kept praying, and praying, and praying. "The Soviet Union made sure to send messages of insecurity to the prisoners. . . never knew when they would be shot in the head, legs amputated. . . they didn't want to be heroes, or martyrs, they just wanted to survive their hell. What did we have to do with the Soviet Union?"
He was sentenced ten years to a Russian Gulag in Siberia. He explained that Gulag is an acronym for
The Chief Administration of Corrective Labour Camps and Colonies. It was there that he learned to find joy and blessings in an incredibly difficult place. He had four focuses that helped him to get through these years, and he encouraged fellow prisoners to do the same.
His survival guide:
1. Never complain. Don't dramatize our suffering because it will only make us weaker.
Instead of complaining Father Placid encouraged the prisoners to talk about their professions. He grinned when he mentioned how much he learned about other professions.
2. Suffering comes automatically whether you want it or not. Watch out for the little joys.
"That's the art of life," he said when he described finding extra pieces of cabbage in his daily ration of soup, or when a guard didn't make him take his hat off in -15°C (5°F) temperatures during the daily searches. The prisoners made a contest out of this survival practice. After dinner each night they would count all the little joys of the day. Once a prisoner shared 16 joyful discoveries and exclaimed that he didn't have time to suffer that day because he was so occupied keeping track of his 16 joys. A favorite song was sung to the one with the most joys for the day.
3. We are all men, guard and prisoner alike, but we can show the guards that we are a different kind of men because of Jesus.
He shared how he and fellow prisoners volunteered to work for a factory owner who had a contract with the labor camp to meet his government quota for his business. The man was shouting obscene words, cursing that somebody was out to ruin him because he wasn't going to make his quota. Even though Father Placid and other prisoners were exempt from this work due to their soon release, they chose to help this man anyway so he wouldn't get in trouble.
4. We cannot leave God out of the things of life. God must be included.
He explained how Jesus was his source of strength, and how that helped him to be a source of strength to others. “It was very hard for me at first because I didn’t know my purpose. But soon God let me know that I was there to help the other prisoners, and my attitude must give them hope. Before this I would often cry; afterward I tried to remain happy for the sake of the others."
When Father Placid was released after ten years, he weighed a mere 86 pounds. Because Hungary was still under Soviet rule, he was stigmatized upon his return, constantly watched by the Communists. No longer able to fulfill his role as a priest, he was given manual labor in a hospital laundry where he soon became the director for the next 20 years.
He smiled when he told us that he retired 34 years ago. He continues to be active in the life of his church. Our visit was on a Saturday evening, and at 9:00 he looked at his watch indicating that it would soon be time for bed. There was mass the next morning at 8:00 and confessions to follow.
Father Placid... a real man who lived real history, but more than that, a man who overcame the darkness of his world with a faith that would not let go and a joy that would not cease. He cheerfully declared, "No suffering can ruin the joy of the Gospel in my life."
