Priest: ‘All I Want Is Peace’

Marian Petrescu vividly remembers the day he was asked to become a spy. It was one evening late in 1988 at the office of a well-known military officer in the Romanian city of Timisoara.

The officer told Petrescu, then a young Orthodox priest, that he would have to listen intently to his parishioners’ confessions, take notes, then report those who opposed the Communist government of Nicolae Ceausescu. In exchange, he would receive money and a bigger church.

Petrescu refused and went home. Months later, he was called in again and offered a similar proposal. When Petrescu refused for the second time, two soldiers came into the office and beat him senseless.

Petrescu, 40, accepts that dark episode with ecclesiastical resignation. After all, he says, God works in mysterious ways, especially in a Communist regime. He has more trouble now dealing with an unexpected conflict in his new life in the free world.

He immigrated in August to Orange County with dreams of starting his own church in Placentia. To his amazement, his plan has met strong opposition from a compatriot: a priest at an already established Romanian Orthodox church in Anaheim.

Cornell Avramescu, 50, minister at St. Mary’s church, says it took seven years and almost $800,000 of parishioners’ money to establish the three-domed church on Walnut Street. He says it serves about 300 families and is adequate for the number of Romanian expatriates here.

“In my opinion his church is too close,” Avramescu says of Petrescu’s small congregation, which has been renting space since October at the Episcopal Church of the Blessed Sacrament in Placentia. “Our territory is Orange County, but in San Diego there’s a need for another Romanian church.”

Attracted by Romanian Emigres

Petrescu, a short, medium-built man with a well-trimmed, dark beard, says he came to California after learning from other priests that it has a sizable Romanian population. There were nearly 6,500 people of Romanian descent in Orange County when the 1990 census was taken.

“All I want is peace,” he says in his native Romanian, translated by parishioner Alice Bocancea, who has befriended him. “I don’t want to steal followers from anyone.”

Petrescu says the conflict with Avramescu is a problem he doesn’t need. He arrived here with no family, no income, no friends, no English language background and only a handful of new acquaintances to help him. He gets by with construction jobs and other part-time work he finds through established Romanian emigres.

‘Now I Have High Hopes’

Nevertheless, he preaches each Sunday afternoon to his 86 parishioners, a few of whom came from the Anaheim congregation.

“Now I have high hopes in the U.S.,” says Petrescu, who lives in a small rented room in Anaheim.

Though rival priest Avramescu’s circumstances are better--he lives in a ranch-style home adjoining his congregation’s 3,600-square-foot church, the two share a history of persecution. Avramescu also was harassed in Romania and was expelled from his homeland after he became involved in religious freedom protests during the early 1980s.

Avramescu says he was put off by the fact that despite their common experiences Petrescu never introduced himself as a colleague when he first arrived. The two priests met at a private home in Los Angeles last year, he says, but Petrescu has never visited Avramescu’s church.

“I hope he gets what he wants,” he says, emphasizing that he doesn’t wish Petrescu any ill will, “but putting together a church takes time and technique.”

If He’s Not Blessed ‘He Will Disappear’

Avramescu says he has found fliers on cars outside his church inviting his parishioners to Petrescu’s services.

Serban Calciu, vice president of the Anaheim parish, says the flier incident rubbed many people wrong. “Everything you do without a blessing, you’re pushing your luck in the eyes of God,” he says. “If he’s from God, he will create a church,” he says of Petrescu. “If not, he will disappear.”

Members of Petrescu’s church say they weren’t responsible for the fliers and want only a peaceful relationship between the two congregations.

“I think both churches should help and understand each other,” says parishioner Bocancea, who used to go to Avramescu’s church.

Others in the new congregation extol Petrescu’s preaching and dedication. “He is very poor and humble,” member Maria Nedelescu says.

The clash between the two churches has reached the attention of other Romanian priests in the area. Among them is Father Nicodemus Bibart, who preaches at St. John the Baptist Church in Los Angeles.

“I know both priests, and I believe they can both work together to help the community,” Bibart says.

For now, the new priest keeps preaching and trying to establish himself. He recently got a commercial driver’s license and is seeking a truck-driving job that will pay enough to cover his living expenses with some left over for English classes.

“Every day I read about religion, I meditate, I fast and I also pray,” he says as he sits on the small, tidy bed in his spartan room. “I pray for a change in my life.”