“There was a notice board in the vestibule of our church, and it had a picture of Christ on the cross. There was a little boy standing beneath it, looking up at the cross, and next to him were the words: ‘Do you want to be a priest, too?’ And I understood the sentence to be addressed to me. It always spoke to me, I’d say even ‘shouted’ at me, so I preferred to use another entrance, so I wouldn’t have to pass by this poster. Finally, I caved in, because when we went to Communion at church, I always heard that sentence in my soul. It seemed to me as if I heard a voice saying: ‘Follow me.’ And so I did.”
“They didn’t need to give reasons, they just took my so-called state permission. Every priest who served under Communism had to have special state permission from the district national committee, basically from the religious secretary. But they weren’t religious, they were anti-religious secretaries, they were stetsecs [members of State Security - trans.]. And so they took my permission again, and I was suspended again. Then they sent me to Rožmitál pod Třemšínem, that was a bigger place, I lasted seven years there. But I couldn’t hold on there, either. My character no doubt played a part in that, I was rather direct, I never let the religious secretary have much of a say. I did what I felt was my duty, and they didn’t like that. And so in 1978 they took my state permission again, this time for good. And because everyone had to be employed under Communism, they weren’t allowed to live from their savings, I found a job in Prague as a window cleaner.”
“The stetsecs had a theory that I was the head of the Focolare Movement, because they couldn’t imagine that it was a lay movement, that it was in the hands of the laity. So they called me in and asked me a direct question: ‘Who is the head of this movement?’ I started telling them the history of Focolare, of its spirituality, and they listened in obedience. When I finished, they repeated: ‘And who is the head of this?’ And I started telling the same thing just from a different perspective. That repeated a third time, but then they stopped me: ‘Look, we want to know who leads it.’ And I told them: ‘Yes, gentlemen, when there is greater freedom of religion, I’ll tell you, but not now.’”
Miloslav Vlk was born on 17 May 1932 in Líšnice near Milevsko. His parents owned a small farm, where he helped with the cattle. His moment of initiation was seeing a poster that called on young men to take up spiritual service. However, his wartime experience made him forget the idea, and he decided to become a pilot. He studied at Jirsík Grammar School in České Budějovice but was barred from university studies by the Communist regime. Miloslav Vlk was briefly employed as a foundry worker, he then began his compulsory military service. This improved his background profile, and in 1955 he was accepted to the Faculty of Arts of Charles University, where he studied archiving. After graduating he gained the post of director of the State Archive in České Budějovice. In the 1960s he was introduced to the Focolare Movement in the Catholic Church and became its member. In 1963 he applied to the Cyril-Methodius Theological Faculty in Litoměřice, but the Communists barred him from studying. He entered the faculty a year later, and in 1968 he celebrated his first Mass at the parish church in Lažiště. He served as the secretary for Bishop Josef Hlouch of České Budějovice for three years, before Communist pressure forced him to resign the post. He was assigned as the parish priest in Lažiště, where he soon gained popularity and importance among the parishioners. The Communists recalled his permission to provide religious services for a time and transferred him to the parish in Rožmitál pod Třemšínem, where he remained for seven years. In 1978 he was again stripped of state permission. Until January 1989 Miloslav Vlk earned a living as a window cleaner, and he fulfilled his priestly duties in secret only. After the Velvet Revolution he was ordained Bishop of České Budějovice, and in 1993 he was appointed cardinal. His office saw efforts at renewing Church structures, educational activities, charity, and monastic life; he tried to achieve a settlement of property between the state and the various churches, but without success. He has received various awards and decorations, including the Tomáš Garrigue-Masaryk Honorary Medal and the Order of T. G. Masaryk, Second Class. Miloslav Vlk passed away on March, the 18th, 2017.
Hrdinové 20. století odcházejí. Nesmíme zapomenout. Dokumentujeme a vyprávíme jejich příběhy. Záleží vám na odkazu minulých generací, na občanských postojích, demokracii a vzdělávání? Pomozte nám!