T ALL STARTED in 1977 when a powerful earthquake hit Romania. The seismic event not only shattered buildings and lives, but also shook the hearts and consciences of people to their very foundations, awakening them from fear and spiritual apathy. That’s when a small group of Adventist believers from the Labyrinth church in Bucharest (the largest Adventist church in Romania at that time) decided to start an underground activity: the publication and distribution of Adventist literature. This was dangerous business, since the Communist government considered books by Ellen White subversive and prohibited their publication.

The leader of the group was Alexandru Sima, a courageous man who in his youth had been a gang leader. He’d been converted to Adventism in prison through the example of a few Adventist young men who’d been incarcerated for refusing to do military service on Sabbath. Once he became an Adventist, Alexandru announced that he was ready to spend as many years behind bars for the Lord as he’d been imprisoned for gang-related activities. And sure enough, the opportunity presented itself soon after he was released. Realizing the need for religious literature in Romania, he dedicated himself with enthusiasm and full energy to the worthy cause, even while fully aware of the consequences.

He Made Me an Offer
My own passionate love for books started in my early years, and I had accumulated a library that included thousands of volumes. My parents raised and educated me to have a deep respect and devotion for the Bible and the writings of Ellen G. White. So when I heard that Brother Alexandru was publishing the Ellen White books in secret, it did not take me long to touch base with him. When I first approached him to buy The Great Controversy and Patriarchs and Prophets (both by White), he examined me carefully. Only after drawing upon his intuition and his vast experience with people did he determine that I was trustworthy. At the end of that first conversation he carefully explored the possibility of my collaborating with him in his publishing endeavors.

It was an offer that took me completely by surprise, and I asked for some time to think about it. It wasn’t an easy one to accept, considering that Communist prisons were not exactly gyms for muscle building or places to study for law degrees. But after my wife and I had given it considerable thought and prayer we accepted. Deep within our hearts we were convinced that in a time of spiritual emptiness and atheist brainwashing, the Lord’s messages of love and hope needed to reach as many people as possible in Romania.

The very real danger of being caught and arrested by the police, or denounced by the many moles infiltrating our churches, seemed small in comparison to making known the message of hope the Lord gave to His servant, Ellen G. White.

Because I’d been teaching the Romanian language for many years, Alexandru wanted me to proofread the books, to prepare them for publication, and to translate some from French. My wife was asked to help with typing manuscripts. The only copies of Ellen White’s books in existence in Romania at that time were translations that had been produced in the archaic language of the 1920s and 1930s. New translations in the contemporary vernacular were clearly needed.

Far From Simple
All seemed very simple to begin with. We just needed to buy a typewriter and start our work. But what would have been straightforward in many other parts of the world did not prove easy to do in Communist Romania.

The Communist government of Romania, one of the most Stalinistic in Eastern Europe, was suspicious of any activity it could not control. And in order to prevent the spread of antigovernmental activity, they had registered all typewriters. They wanted to make sure they could identify all sources of printed material. Only after the police had verified that you were reliable did they give you a permit to buy a typewriter, with the police taking samples from every machine to create a dossier.

After we waited some time, the approval to buy a typewriter finally came. Our first typewriter was a blue portable Olivetti. The first materials we produced were Bible studies and D. A. Delafield’s book Ellen G. White and the Seventh-day Adventist Church, which I translated from French. Because we did not have any available copy machines, we used onionskin-type paper and carbon to create six to eight copies at one time.

The light keys of the typewriter had to be hit very hard in order to create clear copies, so we used only two fingers. The work was extremely difficult and after several hours a day we felt excruciating pain.

When the government fired me for the second time from my teaching position (for refusing to work on Sabbath), what began for me as a part-time activity (with the publishing venture) very soon became full-time.

To conceal our cooperation we met Alexandru or his wife in very remote places or in crowded bus stations. We would use two identical bags. And in the big crowd waiting for the bus, we could exchange them undetected. One would contain new manuscripts, while the other would contain materials prepared for publication.

We avoided talking on the phone, except in extreme situations, since most of the phones were bugged. For emergencies we established a code word. Our code word was medicine, intentionally a very common word to avoid any suspicion. If in a telephone conversation this word was used, we knew immediately that a critical situation had developed and we had to hide all materials in our possession.

Penetrating the Communist Stronghold
Casa Scanteii was the largest printing house in Romania. Here the Communist Party published all its atheistic propaganda books, including those of Communist dictator Nicolae Ceausescu. The building was a gift from the Communist Party of the Soviet Union to the Communist Party of Romania, and it stood as a symbol of the eternal friendship between the two parties and countries.*

With his ingenuity Alexandru was able to make connections at what was, in fact, the heart of Romanian Communist propaganda. For many years Adventist books were printed in this very place—during the night and over the weekends, on the best printing materials available in Romania, using the best technologies in the country. Periodically we would smuggle out of the place a truckful of Adventist materials and take it directly to Alexandru’s house. In his basement a bindery had been installed, and here he and a few close friends would bind the books. After the new books were ready, a few collaborators would distribute them to different parts of the country. As a result of this daring activity, most of the Ellen G. White books, printed in beautiful editions, made their way throughout the entire country of Romania. These included all nine volumes of Testimonies, Patriarchs and Prophets, Prophets and Kings, The Great Controversy, The Desire of Ages, Education, The Acts of the Apostles, A Sketch of the Christian Experience and Views of Ellen G. White, Steps to Christ, Spiritual Gifts, and Thoughts From the Mount of Blessing.

Trouble
One afternoon at the end of 1979 I received a rare telephone call from Alexandru’s wife, during which she used the magic word medicine, signaling that there had been some dangerous development. Immediately we hid all our manuscripts and any proof of our underground activity.

A short time after we received the alarming call, an Adventist minister, a close neighbor and friend, who was informed about our underground activity, wanted to visit us. He came to the entrance of our building but quickly realized that something was wrong because of the suspicious persons he saw moving back and forth. From the way they were dressed and from their physical appearance he realized they were secret agents. Returning home, he changed into his son’s high school uniform, then came back to our place without being suspected. Our friend’s visit reinforced our conviction that something had gone terribly wrong, and we would have to act immediately.

Postscript and Update BY PETRE CIMPOERU About four years ago I was sent by the General Conference (GC) to organize and computerize the library of the Adventist Theological Seminary at their new campus (the largest in Eastern Europe). They needed accreditation from the GC Education Department, and one of the conditions was to have an organized library. The assignment gave me an opportunity to renew my friendship with the Romanian Union president, Pastor Adrian Bocaneanu; and since then I’ve been in frequent contact with him, gleaning many important details about the work in the country. The Romanian Adventist Church is the largest in Europe—73,559 members (out of a population of approximately 23 million) worshiping in 1,063 churches. After the fall of Communism in December 1989, the Adventist Church grew at the rate of 4,000 to 5,000 a year. Religious freedom from the government has given rise to input of Adventists from outside the country, and missionaries from the United States, Canada, and Western Europe have organized evangelistic campaigns in the country with great success. The church has a radio station, Vocea Sperantei (Voice of Hope), which broadcasts all over Romania. Recently Adventist programs, including Bible studies, were broadcast also on television. The church is currently working on a Romanian NET program for next year (February-March 2002). During 2000 the membership growth slowed down for the first time in 11 years, and church leadership hopes Net 2002 will create a new momentum to reverse that trend. Satan, as always, will throw up obstacles. More than 80 percent of the Romanian population are Greek Orthodox. Orthodox leaders do not look favorably at the progress the Adventist Church is making, and evangelistic ventures have not been without harassment. From a Distance A year after I arrived in the United States in 1980, I took the initiative to publish Signs of the Times for Romanians living in America and in all the free world. The magazine was officially recognized and supported financially by the GC. After the fall of Communism in December 1989, I was able to form a nonprofit organization (with four other Romanians) to support the missionary effort in Romania. Among other things, more than 40,000 Bibles have been printed and sent to the home country. Missionary meetings were organized in different parts of Romania, and lay missionaries have been paid to go from house to house distributing Adventist literature and giving Bible studies. The organization also helped with the construction of many new churches as well as with improvements on existing buildings. Our schools also received books and audiovisual materials.

At that time my wife and I lived with our 10-year-old daughter in an apartment building with eight stories. Feverishly gathering all the materials, we put them in bags and covered them with vegetables for camouflage. To take them out of our apartment undetected, we went onto the roof of the building (we were living on the sixth floor) and then split—my wife and daughter getting out of the building on a lateral exit and I using the opposite exit. The night was very dark, which served our purpose well. We succeeded in getting all materials out of the apartment undetected, and we met at the bus station. From there we traveled to my mother’s house—she lived alone in a different part of the city. There we hid all materials on the bottom of a big wooden box that my mother used for coal.

The next Sabbath we heard that Alexandru Sima and one of his collaborators, Alexandru Pencea, had been arrested. The police had searched their homes and found them full of Adventist books and manuscripts. After a long interrogation, which tested their moral and physical stamina, Sima and Pencea were taken to court and sentenced to two years and eight months, respectively. During this time I expected any moment to be arrested myself, as the intent of the long interrogation was to get the names of all collaborators.

Later on I learned that I escaped arrest and imprisonment because Brother Alexandru did not try to extricate himself from the responsibility for the publishing activity by implicating me and other collaborators. Despite the fact that police suspected my wife and me, they did not have enough concrete evidence of our activity to arrest us. Nevertheless, the sword of Damocles hung over our heads until the moment we left Romania in April 1980 for the United States.

Unfortunately this story does not end here. After his release from prison Alexandru Sima continued his underground activity. A few years later he was killed in an explosion that demolished three quarters of his house. The cause of the explosion never became known.

hese years of underground activity were the most exciting and unforgettable in our entire lives. We were thrilled to see all these beautifully and professionally produced editions delivered into the hands of avid readers of the message of God. We considered ourselves soldiers in Christ’s army, and rejoiced greatly at the thought that so many people thirsting for the Lord could find meaning and direction for their lives.

Looking back at those years, we realize that never before had we experienced a deeper sense of fulfillment. Every available moment was dedicated to the activity of filling up the spiritual emptiness created by the atheist propaganda of the Communist government of Romania. I intend this article as a small tribute to all those who labored anonymously and valiantly for the Lord during that difficult era in Romania, when the government engaged in open war against God and against His people.

Our church should be very proud of its sons and daughters who exhibited courage and dedication for the Lord and for His church, putting themselves at great risk to publish and disseminate Adventist literature during those critical times of trial and tribulation behind the iron curtain in Communist Romania.

*After the revolution of 1989 the name of the building was changed to the House of Free Press.

_________________________
Petre Cimpoeru is the associate librarian/assistant archivist for special collections at Loma Linda University, Loma Linda, California. He also served several years as assistant professor in the History Department at La Sierra University and at California State University at San Bernardino. Today he works with the very same books he was publishing under enormous danger in Romania.