Yesterday, we climbed the steep incline to the cell where Francis David was matyred in 1579. Francis David, the first Unitarian bishop, argued for the Edict of Toleration which allowed for individuals to practice the faith of their choice.
My fear of heights was kept at bay by a combination of the woods, for the most part covering the cliff’s edge; a focus on “up,” and my determination to not let my fear conquer this once-in-a-life-time chance to view some critical sites. We reached the pinnacle and could view the city of Deva, half the town lovely, red-tiled buildings, the other half ugly Soviet-era boxes, here and there dotted by and onion domed or colorfully tiled churches with a backdrop of pastures and sloping hills. The prison, was a pitiful place, an enclosed dome in itself with no windows, no light, perhaps 15’ x 15,’ inside, a large grave-like memorial. Spontaneously, the five of us held hands for a moment of silence: Mike and Carolyn Nolan, Thomas and I, and Lasar Levente. I closed my eyes felt the cold stone room and saw for a moment the black that David saw for the last months of his life.
(More to come)
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