János SzöKe
Stephen Sandor
Salesian Brother
1914-1953
Presentation
Great is the rank of martyrs who poured out their blood for the faith in Hungary during the period of the totalitarian regime which had a violent beginning under the directives of the Bolshevik power, immediately following WWII. Among these is the Servant of God, Stephen Sandor, a Salesian Brother, a victim of the strong anti-religious suppression of the Communist regime in Hungary, which was particularly hard and bloody from 1946 to 1963.
With great feeling I present this little booklet by which we hope to make known the story of his life, which manifests the strength and the fecundity of a live handed over without fears or compromises to the cause of Christ and the salvation of the young, expressing a strong and tenacious faith – trials, persecutions, and tortures, notwithstanding: “If God is with us, who will be against us?”
It is wonderful to recall how this Brother lived his vocation as an educator with joy, enthusiasm, and dedication – particularly through his work in the world of the press and in his activities in typography, animation of the liturgy through his guidance of the group of altar servers, his accompaniment of youth groups, his role as catechist and as a witness to the Gospel.
I invite you to know the story of this Salesian Brother and to invoke his intercession, both for joyful fidelity for those whom the Lord calls to follow Him more closely and as encouragement to many brothers and communities who still today are suffering for the Name of Jesus.
In particular, for the members and groups of the Salesian Family, the life of Stephen Sandor is a call to fell the urgency and the necessity to seek out and raise up vocations, to bring to fruition projects of Gospel living, to involve fully those who are evangelized, so that they themselves may become disciples and apostles of the Lord Jesus.
Don Pierluigi Cameroni SDB
Postulator General
Stephen Sandor – Salesian Brother, Martyr
1914 was a tragic year for Europe: on July 28, after the assassination attempt at Sarajevo, Austria declared war against the Kingdom of Serbia. And thus began the great massacre of the First World War. Towards the end of the preceding year, on November 6, 1913, the first Salesians – a group of Hungarian youth who had done their formation in Italy – had arrived in Hungary, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
It was into this context that Stephen Sandor was born on October 26, 1914, in the town of Szolnok, situated some 100 kilometers to the southeast of the capital, Budapest, on the Great Hungarian Plain. Cutting through the town is the Tibisco River, an important feeder stream of the Danube, which begins to become navigable precisely in Szolnok. Its founding dates back to the early times of the occupation of the Carpazi Basin by the Magyar tribe. The river and the fertile and extensive plain, which begins at the foot of the Bukk Mountains, have always favored trade, making the town a lively center of commerce and culture. Given its geographic position it became an important junction for communication, especially for train routes. The presence of thermal springs and the long periods of sunlight contributed to its touristic and agricultural development, in addition to the presence of paper mills and railroad offices.
Childhood and Youth
Stephen was the firstborn of three brothers. Three days after his birth he was baptized in the Franciscan parish, which would later play a significant role in the Christian formation of the boy. His dad, who by family tradition, had given his own name to his son, was a railroad man. Such stable employment (then, as today, not taken for granted) allowed his family to live a lifestyle that was serious, yet serene, in a very difficult moment for the Magyar nation. Given the strategic importance of the railroad, in the time of war, Dad Stephen was not sent to the front; he was thus able to take part in his children’s upbringing firsthand. He exerted a very positive influence on his sons, and was able to provide for their education in a dignified manner.
From the time he was a little boy, Stephen was assiduous in going to his parish. The community of the sons of St. Francis, to whom the church was entrusted, constituted a bulwark of Christian life in the town. As an altar boy, Stephen carried out his service with joy. Later, this passion for our acts of worship will re-emerge in him when, as a Salesian Brother, he carries out his task of training a group of exemplary altar boys, in school and in the oratory, with much seriousness of purpose. For him, already in the days of his youth, it was not simply a matter of external, ritualistic, ceremonial activity, but it was a true form of service to the Lord, the expression of an authentic love for the Eucharistic Jesus.
His membership in the “Szìvgàrda” (literally, the Guard of the Heart), was a true and proper initiation into a Catholic Association. It promoted groups of boys and girls who did community and educational activities inspired by the devotion to the Sacred Heart. The organization was active from 1920 to 1948, when the Communist regime eliminated all the Catholic Associations.
He was a boy who was always happy and even-tempered, who loved to play and who never sat still: this is how his companions remembered him. Well-loved by all, he had the temperament of a leader; he gathered around himself children of his own age and knew how to guide them without yearning to have power and without bullying. He enjoyed acting in plays and showing off on stage so as to entertain his friends. From the time he was a boy he preferred to be the referee so as to give the little ones the chance to play.
Even at home he looked after his little brothers and was the one to lead prayers before meals and in the evening. He always helped his mom with the house chores. When his younger brothers were guilty of some mischief, it was natural for him to take responsibility for it himself.
As a teenager, he assiduously frequented the local Franciscan community, becoming a friend of the Brothers Minor, in particular of one of them, a Fr. Casmir Kollàr, who was his spiritual director. This was not a common thing for a young boy; his openness with this worthy priest accompanied him along a constant spiritual growth, even in difficult situations. In fact, in the post-war years, unemployment was great; there were, even then, times of grave economic crisis; the result was that it was difficult to find a stable job. After finishing mandatory schooling, young Stephen had to undertake very demanding physical labor, such as carrying sacks of cement in the paper mills or working in a copper foundry. He was the shortest of his brothers and of weak physical constitution. He worked with dedication and every evening his mother used to care for the wounds on his shoulders, which came from carrying the heavy loads. This she did according to the home remedy: smearing them with pig fat.
In the Wake of Don Bosco
When the Franciscans saw the seriousness of his commitment and his great common sense, united to the quality of the Christian life he lived, they counseled his family to send the young boy to the Salesian school, “Clarisseum” in Ràkospalota (at the time a large suburb on the outskirts of Budapest). Just a short while before, on some land received from a noble family, the Salesians had opened a vocational school of Graphic Arts and a festive oratory for poor boys, ages 10 to 17, including orphans or boys in trouble, sent by the Minister of Grace and Justice. This was a novelty in Hungary at that time. Notwithstanding the great effort he put into his studies, our Stephen never attained high marks; still, in June of 1928, he completed the curriculum with a sufficient average.
At this point, after returning home, this 14-year-old boy was directed to become an apprentice metallurgist (a lathe turner, one who casts molten copper); there was no other possibility for him, given the difficulties that existed when trying to find work in those days. During this entire period, he was constantly in contact with the Franciscans, and, in particular, with his regular confessor. This coherent care for his spiritual life, united to the profound mark that the stay at the Salesian work in Ràkospalota had left on him, brought him to reflect on what God wanted of him. And, thus, he recognized in himself, with the help of his spiritual guide, the signs of a call from God to the Salesian religious life. As he would later say, reading the Salesian publications had struck him and made him reflect. Even in this trait you can see the motivation for his choice: his bent for typographical work and his love for the press and for spreading the Word among the common people. From a letter of his Franciscan confessor and spiritual director, we learn that in 1932, at the age of 18, he had presented a request that couldn’t be accepted, though, because his parents didn’t give their consent. Meanwhile, he did different types of work, putting all his effort into them, even as a simple day laborer in railroad maintenance. His capacity for adaptation to different types of manual work was notable, as was noted even during Don Bosco’s youth. During this time he continued his correspondence with the administration of the “Clarisseum.” So as not to upset his parents, the answers went to the Franciscan monastery.
When he reached the age of 21, at the end of 1935, Stephen sent his formal request to the Superior of the Salesians, Don Jànos Antal. Among other things, he wrote: “I feel the call to enter the Salesian Congregation. There’s a need for work everywhere; without work, one can’t reach eternity. I like to work.” This underlines a fundamental element of his life: he felt that the world of work was his. He was accepted as an aspirant-candidate to Salesian life.
On February 12, 1936, he returned to the “Clarisseum” for his trial period. Living in that community, he worked with enthusiasm as an assistant typographer, as a sacristan, and in the oratory. After three months, he asked to enter into the Novitiate, but the Superiors felt that it was better if he first completed his formation as an aspirant, as well as that of his technical preparation as a printer. Serene, notwithstanding that for those times his age was a bit above the median for Novices, he continued his work until the end of March 1938, when, at the age of 24, no longer an apprentice, but an already accomplished typographer, he asked to enter the Novitiate.
A Rocky and Steep Road in the Novitiate
But in 1938, Hungary was living a special moment: the re-annexation of the Magyar territory, split off in the Treaty of Trianon (1919) and now re-assigned to the Hungarian government in the treaties restructuring Central Europe in 1938. And so, our Stephen, after having begun his Novitiate in a regular way, on April 1st of that year, had to break it to do military service. As a soldier, he continued to uphold his high tenor of spiritual life and apostolate, staying in touch by letter with the Superiors of the Novitiate. He spent his leave at the “Clarisseum” and handed over to the Provincial the little money he had received.
After his discharge in 1939, he began his Novitiate again on April 30. At 25 years of age, he was much older than his Novitiate companions, who were little more than adolescents. The admiration that was aroused in his young companions at his conduct is thus very well understood. “Even if he was 9 or 10 years older than we, he shared our life totally, in an exemplary fashion. We didn’t feel this age difference at all. Stephen was learning the trade of typography, but in the Novitiate he was unable to practice it; he carried out his chores well, above all in the kitchen. His gift as an educator was apparent even to us novices, especially in community activities. With his personal appeal, he enthused us to such a point that we took for granted that he could tackle with ease even the most difficult tasks.” He gave the impression that he was praying almost continually. At the same time, he made a name for himself in our youthful group for his capacity to attract even the most skeptical companions, provoking an enthusiastic reaction in them, above all when the amateur theater group had to present some comic scenes.” “His spiritual level was a great deal superior to that of the others.” These are the sworn testimonies of his old novitiate companions.
The economic circumstances of the years 1939-1940 were very serious. With the occupation of Poland, World War II began. But the novitiate at Mezonyàràd was able to count on its large cultivated property which guaranteed a good yield of foodstuffs.
Stephen finished his year of novitiate with the First Profession of his Religious Vows, as a lay Salesian (a “coadjutor Brother”) on September 8, 1940. From his correspondence in this era, you can see his great joy and enthusiasm for that life. He returned to the “Clarisseum,” to his work in the print shop, now as one of those in charge, and to the animation of the public church annexed to the oratory. The print shop, Editrice Don Bosco, enjoyed great national prestige. Besides Salesian publications (the Salesian Bulletin, Missionary Youth…), it also published precious series of theatrical works for the young, books of spirituality for the young, and religious instruction books for the common people.
Precisely during these years in Hungary, under the patronage of Don Bosco, there was born a Catholic Association of Young Workers (‘KIOE’). At the “Clarisseum,” our Stephen was the promoter and the soul of this organization. His group became the model for other groups; he instilled there a serene atmosphere and the sacramental and educational spirituality typical of Don Bosco. Discussions on the catechism, apologetic conferences, hours of Adoration, excursion-pilgrimages, sports and games, holy joy characterized the life of the group. The young were attracted to it and did not abandon this work, even when their animator was recalled to arms. Hungary had entered into war, on the side of Germany, on June 22, 1941.
On the War Front
Sandor did his military service as a sharpened telegrapher. Some of his military companions testify that he did not hide that he was a consecrated Religious from his unit. He created a little group of soldiers around himself, attracted by his example, whom he encouraged to pray and to avoid using blasphemies. Up until 1944, with short breaks, he remained in the army. During this period, for as long as it was possible, he kept constant contact with his Religious Superiors, in particular with Don Jànos Antal, Provincial. From his letters, it is clear that he was concerned for his spiritual life, even if he found himself in grave situations. In his brief periods of furlough, he immediately returned to his Salesian house, which he felt to be his true family and was always welcomed with great affection. He was then transferred to the Russian Front, where he participated in the most difficult battles. His comportment as a soldier was so valorous that he was deemed worthy to be decorated with the War Cross of Merit. He took part in the disastrous retreat from Don Bay. Made a prisoner of war in Germany by the Americans, he was able to return to his country within a short time.
In 1944, he took up his work again at Ràkospalota, in as much as the dramatic circumstances permitted. On February 13, 1945, after long and bitter battles lasting three months, which caused the destruction of the residential area, the entire city of Budapest was under the control of the Soviet army. In this time, the Salesians remaining in the city suffered terribly from hunger, from the impossibility to do work, from the requisitions on the part of the occupiers. At the Institute of Ràkospalota, emptied of its students, beds and mattresses were sequestered. The confreres had to find themselves places to sleep, among the ruins, facing a particularly severe winter.
The Shadow of Persecution
On April 3, 1945, the apostolic nunzio, Mons. Angelo Rotta, who had worked much to save many Jews from deportation, was expelled from his country by the personal order of Marshall Vorosilov.
The Salesian work was reduced to a few moments of oratory, disturbed by the nascent communist organizations, which sought to strip away even those few youth who had contact with the Religious.
On August 16, 1945, the President of the Provisory Hungarian Government signed the first decree of reform of the national scholastic system, without consulting the Church, which held a large part (43%) of the schools affected by the reform. In autumn, the attacks against the religious schools began: revision, in a Marxist sense, of all of the scholastic texts and the prohibition to use many Catholic texts. The Hungarian Salesian Superior communicated to the General Council in Torino: “… Now we publish neither the Salesian Bulletin nor the Missionary Youth. The dispositions in force impose upon us the greatest economy of paper.” This last initiative was a means on the part of the Regime to control the press: they needed to have specific permission to acquire paper.
On November 4, 1945, the first post-war elections were held: the Communist party obtained only 17% of the vote, but with the support of the occupying Soviet army, it controlled the entire political apparatus. The typography “Don Bosco” of Ràkospalota was under the watch of the Communists. They could not print books and even the bookstore didn’t sell the remaining stock “because the people spend their money only on bread.” The Catholic press was authorized only for two weekly publications which, however, due to the lack of paper, were only printed a few times.
On May 2, 1946, the Superior of the Salesians in Hungary wrote: “At Ràkospalota we are up in the air. The owners of the house want to send us away from the Institute. We are losing our fleeting rights and our poor hearth. We hope to be able to get out of it…”
From July 12 to 27, 1946, the Communist Minister of the Interior, Rajk Làszlò, dissolved all the religious associations, whether youth or adult. Only the associations of piety were permitted, with restrictions. Many heads of the dissolved associations were imprisoned. At Ràkospalota the groups animated by the Salesians felt these hits. In a particular way, our Stephen suffered for the dissolution of the KIOE, of which he had become one of the leaders. Notwithstanding the legal prohibitions, however, he continued this activity in a quasi-clandestine way, to avoid exposing himself or his students to the scrutiny of the political police. They changed their meeting place every time, making them look like country outings of little groups of youth, or like they were getting together for a party in the evening. In 1948, he animated six active youth groups, among which were several past pupils of our school. The topics of their meetings had absolutely nothing political about them. They were solid religious instruction so as to give the young the foundation of their Faith, in such a way as to be able to resist the atheistic propaganda that was so perverse. They prayed a lot. The same animator composed some appropriate prayers expressly for them.
The writings from those years which were able to reach his Superiors speak of grave insufficiencies in food and heating in the coldest winters; on account of this, his health was weakened. The consequences of these privations from war and the post-war period were manifested. The work in the print shop at Ràkospalota was reduced to next-to-nothing. Still in April of 1948, he succeeded in printing a few copies of the “Preventive System” by Don Bartolomeo Fascie, a Salesian classic, translated into Hungarian. But already in July, his Hungarian Superior communicated with the Superiors in Rome that “the print shop is just about paralyzed. Monthly we receive permission from the censure to print a booklet, at most.”
On June 16, 1948, the Hungarian Parliament decreed the nationalization of all the schools by a vote of 230 for and 63 against. On that very same day, the decree was officially published. The Hungarian Episcopal Conference reacted by establishing that Priests and Religious should not accept teaching or administrative posts in nationalized schools, except for the teaching of religion. The Hungarian Salesians thus saw the regime take over their network of schools, or linked together in some way to the school (boarding schools), a dozen which were all dedicated to poor children. There remained to them the pastoral work in the churches and the teaching of religion in the state schools. But even this, a year later, on September 6, 1949, became optional, and was accompanied by every kind of pressure on the parents so that they not send their children to religion class. The parents who were doing so had files kept on them, lost their work, and their children could not attend the university…
With the school sector having been nationalized at Ràkospalota, the print shop remained in Salesian hands as such, but with very grave limitations and without external personnel. Stephen kept the machines in good repair and dedicated as much time as possible to follow the young outside the house, nourishing their Christian life with his example and with formative activities. The Salesians, in fact, had received permission from the Bishop to continue, if possible, their educative work in the institutions, which had previously received their students from the State (principally, from the Minister of Grace and Justice) and which were a good number. This was a field in which they were forerunners, even in respect to the rest of Europe. Already in 1925, the correctional facility for minors, at Esztergomtàbor, had been entrusted to them. The Bishop of Vàc, on whom Ràkospalota depended, established at that time in the parish the public church run by the Salesians, making the permanence of the Religious Community easier, even if reduced in number. Stephen was able to continue to occupy himself with the altar boys and with those few children who attended the parish, besides continuing his work as sacristan - so loved by him and carried out with a great spirit of piety and edification of the priests themselves.
At the end of December 1948, it was hinted to the Salesians of Ràkospalota to evacuate the building completely. An appeal was turned down. Thus, the print shop languished as they did not receive permission to print anything other than some leaflets of an administrative type, but nothing that had religious content. Finally, in the summer of 1949, it was confiscated by the State. Thus, after 23 years of activity, every income for the Salesians ceased and it became very difficult to provide for the funding of the new candidates to Salesian life. The publishing house, in fact, had represented an important source of income for the young confreres: at Szentkereszt there were nineteen Theology students, at Mezonyarad thirty-one Philosophy students, and at Tanakajd eight novices to support. It is easy to imagine the pain that Stephen felt seeing the cessation of works which were so fundamental and to which he had consecrated his forces and his spirit. They began to take away the machines; previously, foreseeing the worst, Stephen had sought to safeguard at least some of the smaller machines with past pupils. After abandoning the locale, even the activity of the oratory could not continue and the Salesian work was restricted to running the parish. The Cronaca of Ràkospalota notes that on December 19, 1949: “We have completely evacuated the old institute of the Clarisseum and are in the same area, near the ex-printery. We have adjusted as best we can, but the place is very tight.” “Besides the print shop, naturally, the bookstore was also expropriated and this has produced an even greater reduction in the available space.”
A government decree established that from January 1, 1950, teachers of Religion had to be paid by those who sent their children to the lessons. This was another maneuver to eliminate the already greatly reduced religious instruction in the schools.
The Fateful 1950
In the month of June in 1950, the Communist government declared the Religious Orders and Congregations suppressed in Hungary. Beginning on June 7, they initiated the deportations of the Religious, who were then interred in concentration camps (generally in old monasteries). The Salesians, too, were dispersed; some were brought to the concentration camps; the young Salesians and novices returned to their families, or to their relatives. The Salesians of Ràkospalota received the order to abandon even the hovels in which they were holed up. The Superior of the Salesians in Hungary, Don Vince Sellye, was arrested near the Austrian border, incarcerated at Budapest, with the accusation of have tried to leave the country; he was condemned to two years and a half of imprisonment.
On August 30, the government and the President of the Hungarian Bishops’ Conference signed an “accord,” on the basis of which, in exchange for a “backing” of the political government, in September the Religious interred in the concentration camps would be released. But, a short while after the accord, on September 7, the State authorities withdrew from the Orders and Congregations present in Hungarian territory the permission to work; practically-speaking, this meant the dissolution of the Communities and the nationalization of their goods. Only a very reduced number of Religious, with many restrictions, remained functioning in eight high schools which were restored after two years of interruption (from 1948): two to the Benedictines, two to the Scolopi, two to the Franciscans, and two for girls to a local feminine Congregation.
The Salesians lost everything: the buildings were occupied by the State. The Religious were dispersed and each one on his own had to find some type of work to survive. Some worked as organists, some as sacristans, others did various manual work; still others were taken in by the Diocese and sent to small country parishes. They could not reside in the city, nor maintain contact among them and, for a long time, were placed under police surveillance. The poor Provincial, Don V. Sellye, on trial for a second time, was condemned to 33 years in prison.
Stephen remained for as long as possible in Ràkospalota, in whatever lodging he could find, and continued to keep contact with the young in his groups. But afterwards, in order to survive, he had to retire for a time to Szolnok, to his family, and to seek work in a print shop. Not only his technical talents, but also those of an educator and leader among the young shone forth. For this reason, he was recalled by the local administration to Budapest to take charge of a group of orphans, gathered by the Communist Party. Still, he continued his work as catechist clandestinely, in various ways. Even in the group of orphans he developed his gifts as a Christian educator, well aware of the risks he ran. Some of these young people were chosen to form part of a special police corps at the orders of the dictator Ràkosi, but they remained faithful in their hearts to the values of Christian ethics which had been inculcated in them by their animator.
At a certain moment in 1951, Stephen, realizing that he had fallen into suspicion with the political police, changed his last name and place of residence, and found work as in the factory that produced the detergent Persil, but all the while continuing his clandestine apostolate among the young. Seeing that the police were keeping a close watch on a confrere and his Superiors, with whom he was keeping covert contact, they wanted to get him out of the country. When all was ready for him to cross over the border into Austria, Stephen did not wish to take advantage of this opportunity, but decided to remain in Hungary. He thought that it was not just for him to leave, when the young whom he was following were running the same risk of being discovered and condemned. For him, it would have been running away from his responsibilities as a Christian educator.
He then chose to change his residence a number of times. Finally, he remained in Budapest, having accepted to share his lodging with a young confrere, Tibor Dàniel, who, at the time of the dispersion, was studying Theology. This little apartment became the center of his clandestine apostolic activity. Here, as also in various places around the capital, he continued his formative work. It often happened that he received letters from the young people he was following. His correspondence certainly contained no allusion to politics, much less any idea of a plot, of which he was later accused. He only gave answers and advice regarding Christian spiritual life, which the young people wanted to deepen. The atheist regime, however, fearing anything that was Christian, used spies to keep an eye on all the citizens, but followed the activities of the dispersed religious with particular attention. Above all, it was of great importance to the regime to keep a close watch on the young, who were the nerve center of the system. Bear in mind that even on the occasion of Easter in 1989 (the vigil of the fall of the Communist regime!), the agents of the AEH (Allami Egyhazugyi Hìvatal = the State Office for Ecclesiastical Affairs) presented their report on State workers, above all the teachers, who were present at Easter Mass. They sought to keep the Church far away from the young at all costs – especially the workers – the propagandist base of the Party. It was considered a capital crime to gather youth for religious formation. Immediately accusations of plots or conspiracies against the State rained down and this carried with it severe penalties, especially during the 50s, under the dictatorship of Matyas Ràkosi. It is against this background that we must place the activities of our Stephen.
Arrest and Sentence
Right in the house where Sandor e Daniel lived there was an insidious situation. The husband of the owner of the building worked for the infamous AVO (political police). Noting Sandor’s substantial correspondence, she began to open his letters using varied methods learned from her husband. Their content was transmitted to the police who had both the recipient of these letters and his roommate under watch.
Something happened then, which, in order to be understood, needs to be framed in by an initiative of the regime. We take it from an expert on the events of the era: “When the Communist Secret Police enlarged its ranks, in 1949, to 30,000 members, they looked at the orphaned youth and the workers as “the most trustworthy of quarters” from which to dig up and form good Communist police. After a formation period of three months, they trained the best as “Guards of the Party.” They received the rank of under-officer or officer and their task was to protect/defend the persons of the principal heads of the Party – the Party of the Hungarian Workers, as it was then called – Ràkosi e Géro. They recruited Albert Zana and some of his companions (past pupils of the Clarisseum, who had been followed by Stephen) first as military and then in the Secret Police (AVO). These young police officials, even following the nationalization of the Institute of Ràkospalota and the expulsion of the Salesians, kept up their relationship with their educators. Stephen Sandor… used to meet regularly with his past pupils and some of their friends at the Clarisseum or in private apartments. He concerned himself with great love for the spiritual problems of the young. Among themselves, they prepared to resist the atheist propaganda of the dictatorship and even helped others to remain firm in the Faith. Even these young police officers brought friends to the Faith.
Involuntarily, they committed a “mistake.” In those days, on the main road from Ujpest, a new pub was opened, by the name of “Hell’s Tavern.” On the side of the entrance there was a sign which read: “Enter into Hell.” These young men considered such words a way of making fun of religion. (This is an indication of the religious sensitivity of the time; today it would be almost unimaginable.) On the following morning, the young men sprayed tar on the writing. The owners of the place told AVO and their police dogs led them to the Clarisseum. Here they captured Hegedus Hajnal, then a fifteen-year-old student at the high school, who was arriving just at that moment. Using torture, they pulled out of him the names of the other members of the group and the name of the Religious who animated them. Even in the Party there were members with good intentions. As soon as the arrest order was issued, they alerted Stephen Sandor about what had happened. The Salesian Superior, Adam Laszlo, as we already mentioned, had foreseen the possible need to get his confrere out of the country clandestinely, but Stephen felt he could not run while his disciples found themselves in danger in their country. He said to his friends that he was ready even for martyrdom. But the owner of Daniel’s house made them imprison Stephen, Daniel, and other Salesians. Within a short time, they also imprisoned the other young people who had been implicated. Matyas Rakosi (the Dictator) decided on an immediate sentencing of the young officers.
Later, a few particulars of the arrest came to light. On the morning of July 28, 1952, the political police showed up at the lodging and arrested Stephen. They then awaited Tibor Daniel’s return, in the afternoon. When he entered into the room, he was welcomed with a brutal slap. They brought him to the main police station, the infamous building at 60 Via Andrassy (today known as the “Museum of Terror”), where he underwent repeated torture which ruined his liver and spleen. Finally, in order to avoid making him die a martyr, they released him, in extreme condition, in his village, Asvànyràrò (in the north, near the Slovakian border). A little while later, as a result of the torture to which he had been subjected, he died in the arms of his mother and of his sister Elizabeth.
As to our Stephen, he was brought to the Military Tribunal prison of Budapest (in the region called Buda, Fo Utca), where he endured beatings and continuous lengthy interrogations. The authority for the trial fell to the Military Tribunal, in as much as there were members of the armed forces among the accused. On account of the inhuman torture and the sadly all-too-well-known procedures used on “political” prisoners of the time (cf. Cardinal Mindszenty), Stephen was forced to admit to “crimes” which would implicate himself, well knowing that such a declaration would have constituted a motive for the military tribunal to condemn him to death.
The trial began on October 28, 1952. Sixteen charged were present: nine had served in the special Police Corps; five were Salesians; and two were young students, one male and one female. All proceeded behind closed doors and in one hearing only. It was, as usual, a farce with everything already decided. Lieutenant Colonel Béla Kovàcs presided over this mock trial in which the final decision had already been made. He was assisted by two lieutenants of the AVH (Secret Police). The State Prosecutor Major Gyorgy Béres represented the personal expression of Dictator Rakosi. The court immediately declared verdict number I/0308/1952: the death penalty for Stephen and for three young officers, who were retained “guilty of plotting against the people’s democracy and of high treason.” Two days later a request for pardon which had been presented as a matter of procedure was turned down.
Behind the veneer of the trial, the wrath of the regime in the face of the Religious who kept up their relationship with the young workers was obvious, for the young were considered as those who ought to constitute the hard core of the dictatorship.
During the years of the Communist regime, some thousands of young people, who, fully aware of the risks they were taking, kept attending in every way they could, the clandestine Catholic youth groups, and with the excuse of going on outings or having family parties, participated in religious formation encounters and spiritual exercises. Many of them were imprisoned and tortured. Many were excluded from attending high school and university, and had to take up manual labor jobs immediately.
In Military Prison at Fo Utca
Still today, whoever visits the Hungarian capital, in the region of Buda, and travels along Main Street (which is what “Fo Utca” means), is struck by the gloomy, imposing nature of the Military Tribunal, constructed completely of dark rock, whose upper stories house the military prison. Cell number 32 of the section “High Treason” saw the presence of our Stephen from the day of his imprisonment until the night of June 8, 1953.
We have some information about these ten and a half months from some cellmates of his who survived. Here is one such testimony: “During the weeks I spent in the common cell, we did everything we could to live a spiritual life, in the noblest sense of the word […]. We prayed together and recited the Rosary secretly, because even among our cellmates there was a certain internal surveillance. Every cell had its “commandant” who was responsible to observe and denounce any irregularity, which then did not go unpunished. (The regime purposely planted someone who, faking incarceration, tried to gain the confidence of the prisoners). Our friend Stephen tried to give courage to his companions through consoling prayers and spiritual thoughts.” Despite the fact that he was aware of his tragic destiny, he was the bearer of serenity to the other prisoners.
A Priest, Jòzsef Szabò, a prison companion, confirmed: “We knew that Stephen was ready for martyrdom. He was aware that from the place in which he found himself there was only one way out, the one that brought him to the gallows. It was understandable that, like everyone else, he too was attached to life and nurtured the hope that he would survive, but he didn’t give any sign of wanting to shrink to the level of compromise. To me, his spiritual father, during our conversations in the cell, he said in confidence and with the greatest sincerity that he had never participated in any political plot. I never noticed any political interest on his part. […] I remember that we were more than fifty of us in the cell. We were unable to speak freely among ourselves; everyone was part of an assigned group in which there were spies. Being in such a desperate situation, all of us were placed under severe sentences. The lightest penalty consisted in a 15-year imprisonment; but the life sentence or death penalty convictions were numerous. In such a situation, people were very open to welcome spiritual thoughts under the form of spontaneous preaching. I spoke of the eternal truths to the group; Stephen Sandor also did the same… We prayed the entire rosary, counting on our fingers. We saw how much comfort saying prayers gave to those condemned to death. Stephen often asked me to go to our prison companions to hear their confessions and to give them absolution. […] Those condemned to death sought spiritual comfort from him.”
One of his ex-companions from school, Mihàly Szantò, a high functionary of the Party, tried to convince Stephen to cooperate with them. They knew, in fact, of his abilities and above all of the influence he exerted over the youth. But he never gave in. His cellmates who survived were all unanimous: even after receiving the death penalty, he comforted the others in the cell. At times of severe hunger, he shared his food – which was already little – with them.
June 8, 1953: the Supreme Witness
After the official communication of his death sentence, he was transferred from cell 32 to the upper floor of the military prison, to the cell for those condemned to death, to await execution. A surviving cellmate confessed that he still had fixed in his memory, fifty years later, the sorrowful scene of when the prison guards came to cell 32 to take away his personal effects: a little toothbrush, a comb, and a towel. For the prisoners, this was the sign that the person concerned had been transferred to the cell with those who would go directly to their execution.
The survivors affirmed that it was impossible to know exactly where they held the executions. In general, at least until 1953, they were carried out in the courtyard of the prison itself. In order to drown out the screams of the condemned, they used to push to the max the noise made by the motor of the truck they used as a platform. When this sinister noise was heard in the cells, they understood that they were executing one of the condemned, especially by a hanging. Our Stephen was the second one hung, as we understand from the records.
His corpse, together with those of the others who were put to death with him, were brought by truck to the cemetery of the judiciary prison in the town of Vàc, where they were buried all together in a common grave, without any sign of identification. Notwithstanding several searches on the part of his family and the Salesians, still they did not succeed in finding his burial place. On the other hand, the cadavers that were exhumed afterwards, after the fall of the regime, presented such a quantity of the signs of torture that their identification was made very difficult. But whoever has the gift of faith knows also that the martyred body of Stephen is awaiting the glorious day of the Resurrection.
Reputation of Martyrdom
In 1989 the Berlin Wall fell and the Iron Curtain was knocked down. In 1990 free political elections were held in Hungary and the new Parliament approved the law of freedom of conscience and religious freedom. Little by little they began to reconstruct the Religious Communities which had been abolished in 1950. Even the few remaining Salesians began to establish some communities in the few places restored to them by the Government.
A few years needed to pass before the sons of Don Bosco could reach a sufficient number of available personnel so as to be able to take care of gathering documentation and begin, in 2006, the canonical process for the recognition of the martyrdom of Stephen. On December 10, 2007, the Diocesan Process was closed at Budapest and word was sent to Rome, to the Congregation for the Causes of the Saints.
In the meantime, the people of God had become aware of the tragic happenings and of the heroic conduct of so many Christians in Hungary, under the toughest Communist regime. At an official level, and even on the level of the common person, many vicissitudes which before were only supposed or barely whispered, now have come to full light. Some survivors, who at first were forced to keep silent, have now contributed to help reconstruct, at least in part, the true facts. In our case, for example, a parish priest, Don Jòzsef Szabò, explained to his faithful people that, having himself been a cellmate of Stephen, he know very well that he was killed because of his faith which made him carry out an intense pastoral activity in the youth groups. He is a martyr who is a model of youth pastoral activity which originates from an intense relationship with God, lived in a profound simplicity and spontaneity, so far from every form of external bigotry, and so solidly anchored in constant motivations of faith, and concerned, besides, to give to the young that love of Jesus which he felt for them.
Many people show how much good can be done through an official recognition of the martyrdom of this young man, particularly for the young. He is an example of a life well-lived, grown up on the essentials, which, when contrasted with the instability of today, is timely and urges us to question ourselves on the way we live, on the true motivations behind the way we act. Being faced with the motivations that guided the martyr to confront and overcome so many sufferings unjustly inflicted upon him, urges us to review our situation in God’s eyes. In a particular way, it is an encouragement to reflection for those who must work in one way or another with the young in difficult times, as are ours, too, though in a different way. The cause to which he dedicated his entire life, the formation of a Christian sensitivity in the youth’s world of work, is still as timely as ever.
Those who knew him testified that his exemplary conduct was not an attitude that was taken on occasionally, but that it was the fruit of a conviction that sustained it constantly. His martyrdom was but the coherent conclusion of an entire life of simple faith and profound love for the young, always filled with trusting hope, even in unfavorable circumstances. This is the attitude that St. John Bosco inspired in his sons: “I will give my life for the young until my very last breath.”
Prayer for the glorification
of the Servant of God Stephen Sándor,
Salesian Brother and martyr
(26 November 1914 – 8 June1953)
Almighty God,
You called your servant Stephen Sándor
to be part of Don Bosco's great SalesianFamily.
You guided him, through Mary Help of Christians,
in his difficult mission for the salvation of souls
and in sacrificing his life for Hungarian youth.
He gave witness to You.
At a time of persecution of the Church,
he promoted Catholic press,
service of the altar
education of the young.
By his faithful and loyal spirit
he pointed out to us
to the way what is good and just.
We ask You to glorify him
with the crown of martyrdom.
Through Christ Our Lord. Amen.
With ecclesiastical approval
For information and for graces received please contact:
Postulation – Direzione Opere Don Bosco
Via della Pisana 1111
00163 ROMA – ITALIA
