Fr. Dr. Okhueleigbe Osemhantie Ãmos
The story of Ernest Simoni is one that resists casual narration. It belongs rather to that sacred archive of the Church where memory is preserved not merely in ink but in wounds, endurance, and unbroken fidelity. Born on October 18, 1928, in Troshani, Albania, his early years were spent within a devout Catholic family at a time when the shadows of militant atheism were beginning to gather ominously over Eastern Europe. His vocation to the priesthood matured under these tensions, and on April 7, 1956, he was ordained a priest, stepping into a ministry that would soon be tested beyond all ordinary human expectations.
The Albania into which he was ordained was fast becoming one of the most aggressively anti-religious regimes in modern history. Under the dictatorship of Enver Hoxha, religion was not merely discouraged but criminalised, culminating in Albania’s declaration as the world’s first atheist state in 1967. Even before that formal declaration, the machinery of persecution had begun its work. In 1963, barely seven years into his priesthood, Simoni was arrested while celebrating Mass on Christmas Eve. The charge was as sweeping as it was revealing: he was accused of being an enemy of the state, of undermining the regime through his ministry.
He was sentenced to death, a sentence that hovered over him as a stark reminder of the regime’s intention to extinguish not just his life but the faith he represented. That sentence was later commuted to imprisonment and forced labour, inaugurating a long and harrowing period that would last eighteen years. During those years, he endured brutal conditions in labour camps, physical hardship, psychological torment, and the constant pressure to renounce his priesthood. Yet it is precisely here that his priesthood attained its most luminous expression.
“I celebrated Mass in prison secretly, with a little bread and wine when I could find them. I said the prayers by heart, because I had nothing with me.”
The Eucharist, stripped of every external solemnity, became in his hands an act of defiance, a quiet but unyielding proclamation that Christ could not be imprisoned. Without altar, vestments, or congregation, he continued to offer the Holy Sacrifice, transforming the desolation of prison into a sanctuary. The guards often mistook his whispered Latin prayers for incoherent muttering, unaware that within those words the entire liturgical life of the Church was being preserved.
“They thought I was speaking nonsense, but I was praying. I was offering the Mass.”
Such moments reveal not merely personal courage but a profound theological truth: that the priesthood is not contingent upon external structures but is ontologically rooted in Christ. In Simoni’s life, the Eucharist was not simply celebrated; it was suffered, hidden, and carried within memory.
When he was finally released in 1981, his ordeal did not end. He was not reinstated publicly as a priest but relegated to menial labour, including cleaning sewers in the city of Shkodër. The humiliation was deliberate, intended to erase his identity and reduce him to anonymity. Yet even in this obscurity, he continued to minister quietly, celebrating the sacraments in secret and sustaining the faith of the people who sought him out. His priesthood thus unfolded in three movements: the open ministry of his early years, the crucible of imprisonment, and the hidden fidelity of his later life under surveillance.
The collapse of the communist regime in the early 1990s brought a new dawn, not only for Albania but for Simoni personally. For the first time in decades, he was able to exercise his priesthood openly. Yet the wider Church remained largely unaware of the depth of his witness until September 21, 2014, when Pope Francis visited Albania. During that visit, Simoni was invited to share his testimony. What followed was one of the most arresting moments of that pontificate. His simple, unembellished account of suffering moved the Pope to visible emotion.
“I was condemned to death. Then they changed it to prison. I have forgiven those who hurt me.”
The power of that testimony lay not in rhetorical flourish but in its stark authenticity. Pope Francis would later describe him as a “living martyr,” recognizing in him the embodiment of a Church that had suffered silently yet remained unbroken. In 2016, the Pope elevated him to the College of Cardinals, an extraordinary gesture given that Simoni was not a bishop. It was a recognition not of ecclesiastical advancement but of heroic fidelity.
“Today, we touch the martyrs.”
As he marks seventy years of priesthood in April 2026, Cardinal Simoni stands as a rare witness to an entire epoch of persecution and renewal. His reflections on this jubilee are characteristically devoid of self-congratulation. He speaks instead of grace, of survival, and of the quiet persistence of faith under unimaginable pressure.
“The Church suffered greatly, but the Lord never abandoned us.”
The celebration of this anniversary has been further enriched by his recent encounter with Pope Leo XIV on April 27, 2026. The meeting, attended by 40 members of his family, was marked by deep spiritual resonance. It was not merely a courtesy visit but a moment laden with symbolic meaning, as a priest formed in persecution met a Pope tasked with guiding the Church in a new and complex global context.
“It was all joy, all hope. We must proclaim peace, fraternity, and love for all peoples.”
In that encounter, Simoni presented the Pope with a cross and relics of Albanian martyrs, a gesture that carried the weight of history. It was an offering of memory, a reminder that the Church’s present mission is inseparable from the sacrifices of those who endured before. In receiving these relics, Pope Leo XIV symbolically embraced the suffering Church as an integral part of the Church’s living identity.
What emerges from this long and arduous journey is a vision of priesthood that transcends institutional definitions. In Simoni, one encounters a priesthood purified of all excess, reduced to its essence, and thereby revealed in its full splendour. His life challenges contemporary assumptions about ministry, comfort, and success. It insists that the true measure of priesthood lies not in visibility but in fidelity, not in recognition but in perseverance.
At ninety-seven years of age, Cardinal Ernest Simoni does not merely celebrate seventy years of priesthood; he personifies them. His life is a homily without words, a theology written in endurance, and a demonstration that even in the darkest moments of history, the light of faith is never extinguished.
Thanks for reading. Good Night
Fr. Dr. Okhueleigbe Osemhantie Ãmos is a priest of the Catholic Diocese of Uromi and a Lecturer at the Catholic Institute of West Africa, Port Harcourt, Nigeria
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