We keep a photo of Father Teofil on the fridge, holding a seashell to his ear. He was listening to the sea. Recently, I also found out who he received the seashell from.
I have only one childhood memory of Father Teofil. It was April. The Feast of the Life-Giving Spring. An excursion to Sâmbăta de Sus Monastery had been organized from my village, and my mother and aunt decided to go. That's how they took me along.
So, we arrived by bus at Sâmbăta Monastery, where there was a throng of people. I don't remember much, nor do I know how young I was... but I know I liked it, because the service was held somewhere outside, and I could play among the surrounding fir trees.
I still feel the bustle at the end of the service. I don't know why, but in my child's mind, I think I associated the throng of people, the hustle and bustle, with the Gospel from Palm Sunday, when the Savior entered Jerusalem, seated on a donkey. That's how the day of the Life-Giving Spring at Sâmbăta Monastery had taken shape in my child's mind.
“Father is coming! The Father is passing, make way!”People had arranged themselves on two sides, leaving a clear aisle between them. All were bowed. Some spread their clothes on the ground, so that the Father could walk on them... or perhaps that's how I saw it with my child's mind.
Someone pushed me forward.“Receive a blessing!”I saw him then, coming, bent over, leaning on the arm of a younger monk, on Father. As old as the world. Or perhaps that's how I saw it with my child's mind. I couldn't see his eyes, only a wide smile across his face. And he walked without measuring the ground. He walked floating. It was Father Teofil Părăian. In my child's mind, I only thought that this man is certainly a good man.
I smile even now. And I think: I wonder how the sea must sound, from Up There, from Heaven?
Silvana Bașa