My Only Strength .... a story from Vietnam (1976)

Excerts from a letter from Archbishop Van Thuan of Saigon during his imprisonment

After being arrested, I was allowed to request in writing the things I needed most, clothes, toothpaste..I wrote to my addressee, please could you send me a bit of wine, as medicine for my bad stomach ? The faithful understand what it means; they sent me a little bottle of wine for Mass labelled stomach Medicine; and some hosts sealed in a torch against the humidity.

The Police asked me Do you have a bad stomach ? I replied yes Here's a little medicine for you I will never be able to express my immense joy. Every day with 3 drops of wine and I drop of water in the palm of my hand, I celebrate Mass.

..at 9.30pm the lights are turned off and I curl up on my bed to celebrate Mass by memory, and I distribute communion moving my hand under the mosquito netting. We make little containers from the paper of cigarette boxes to preserve the Blessed Sacrament. Jesus, in the Eucharist, is always with me in my shirt pocket. Like the Manna that nourished Israel on their journey to the promised land, the Eucharist will nourish you on your road of hope.

..a session of indoctrination (re-education) takes place every week, in which the whole camp has to participate. The strength of the love of Jesus transforms the darkness of prison into light, the seed germinates underground during the storm.

..During my nine years of solitary confinement I celebrated Mass at 3pm, the hour of Jesus's agony on the cross, and had an hour of adoration 9 to 10pm. I felt a singular peace of spirit and of heart and the joy and serenity of the company of Jesus, Mary & Joseph.

..In the back of my cell, without light, without a window, stifling hot, I think with overwhelming nostalgia. Only 2 kilometres from my cell, on the same street, is the Cathedral, I hear the bells ring and the waves of the pacific.

Once I used to celebrate with a gold-plated paten and chalice, now your blood in the palm of my hand. Once I used to travel the world for meetings and conferences, now I'm confined in a narrow cell without windows. Once I used to visit you in the tabernacle, now I carry you in the shirt pocket , day and night. Once I used to celebrate Mass in front of thousands of faithful, now in the darkness of night, giving communion under mosquito netting. Once I used to preach retreats to clergy and lay men, now another prisoner preaches to me the excercises of St Ignatius through a crack in the wall. Once I used to give solemn benediction in the Cathedral, now I have adoration every evening in silence.

I am happy, here, in this cell; where on the mat white mushrooms are growing, because You are with me, because You want me to live here with You. I have spoken a lot in my lifetime, now I speak no more. It is your turn, Jesus, to speak to me. I am listening to You. What have You whispered to me ?