My uncle was a Communist Party member. His long service in the army until his retirement strengthened his Marxist-Leninist ideals. Therefore, although he was born into a Catholic family and was a Catholic, he chose a different belief system for himself, atheism and communist ideals.

Before marrying my aunt, my uncle had been married once and had two children. When he married my aunt, he firmly refused to perform religious rituals. Although his children were still free to be baptized and practice their religion, my aunt, until her death, was not allowed to receive Holy Communion because of her violation of the marriage law.

On occasions when we came to wish each other a happy new year and when the family had some family matters, the two of us would never sit together for more than half an hour. My uncle tried to convince me to leave the monastery and stop wasting my life. I tried to convince him to repent and return to the Catholic faith. My uncle used the knowledge he had from the history books for middle school students that his nieces and nephews were studying, the news he had about anti-capitalism and anti-religion content from the radio right next to his bed, as well as the analysis in the party meetings about religion being childish and being used to oppose the state… to show me that my nephew, who had a proper education but became a monk, was blind and a waste of his life. As for me, a seminarian who felt he had too much philosophy and theology, plus the enthusiasm for the feat of winning over a communist soldier, also used all my abilities to debate and persuade. At first, he was gentle and soft. Gradually, the volume of the conversation grew louder, adding to the red hues on the two faces and the steely demeanor of the two “warriors”… the conversation soon turned into a war of words and always ended with nearly a year of cold war, until the reunion on the next Tet, although not scheduled but definitely met.

My uncle often scolded his children and grandchildren for wasting time praying, offering flowers, and carrying books all day long. He also always firmly refused anyone who wanted to talk to him about repentance, conversion, confession, and going to church. He did not forget to remind his children over and over again: On the day I die, do not call a priest, and do not bring me to church.

After becoming a priest, every time I visited my uncle, I only had a few hours to ask about his health and then left, but no time to sit and debate, and it seemed that the old belligerence of both uncle and nephew had cooled down. It must have been the armistice period.

After a few years, I received the news of my uncle’s death. I was quite disappointed, because it seemed that not only had I not been able to help him, but I had also left a rather bad impression. Once my younger brother told me that when my uncle was seriously ill, they suggested inviting the priest to come and confess and anoint the sick. My uncle refused harshly and sarcastically said harsh words to the priests. They said, let them invite their own priest to come and confess and anoint their father. My uncle’s attitude softened, but he was still determined: “no”, then he remained silent. Once, when confiding in my father, my younger brother was explained to why he did not go to church and hated priests: The previous priest, when I brought your mother to ask for a wedding, made fun of my ideals, and flatly refused to marry me when I did not study the catechism. He (the priest) also humiliated me in front of the whole parish. Think about it, I left safely for the peace of this country and returned as a second-class invalid. He cursed me, cursed the whole country. Shame, I can’t stand it.

I asked myself, had I also rudely and heartlessly rejected his lifelong ideal? If I were him, would I have the courage to abandon the ideal that I believed in all my life, sacrificed my flesh and blood to protect, and abandoned my own reason for living? I silently blamed myself for my foolish past.

And, my brother told me about the moment of his death that made my uncle call for a priest to come to confess and anoint him before he died. About a month before he died, my uncle lived in silence. He didn’t speak when called, didn’t answer when asked, his face was always gloomy and grimaced as if he was having a great inner war. A few days before he died, he called his children and grandchildren to his side and asked to invite a priest. He said: I have devoted my whole life to the world, but I have made my wife and children suffer. Your mother lived her whole life in humiliation because she was not allowed to receive communion, because I refused to get married. You all went to mass, to church but were scolded, forbidden by your father and had to go in secret as if you were doing something wrong. Now I have nothing, and I don’t know where I will go after I die. I have a family that accepted and loved me, a place where I belong. That’s why I want to go to the place where your mother is waiting, where you will also go. Please invite the priest to help dad.

After listening, I felt like a huge burden had been lifted from my mind since I heard the news of your passing. God has His ways, I don’t understand. I’ll see you one fine day, then we can continue our debate.

Jamor

Excerpt from “Catholic Church Magazine”, No. 21, October 2024