“When, already a bishop, I had to flee my homeland, Czechoslovakia, together with some seminarians, because we were persecuted for our faith, I was saved thanks to the innocence of children.
Now, dear children, I will tell you how it happened.

We found ourselves in a forest, with two local guides who were to lead us across the border. In our group there was also a mother with a six-year-old boy, Ivan, and a baby girl about five or six months old. Since the woman couldn’t carry both children, I offered to carry the boy.

We walked for three nights, hiding during the day because the area was under surveillance. We moved slowly, with the guides in front tapping the ground with a stick to check for wires that, if touched, would alert the border guards.

I always carried Ivan on my shoulders. I remember the last night: we had to cross the Morava River in an inflatable raft, three people at a time. Everyone wanted to go first, but I let the woman with the baby go first, then used every possible caress and promise to keep the boy from crying and screaming as he saw his mother drifting away. After two hours, we had all crossed and were already in Austria, though still in the Russian-occupied zone.

We were near the railway where we were supposed to take a train and felt almost safe. Suddenly, the guides stopped, puzzled: just beyond a small bridge we had to cross was a hut they hadn’t seen before. They said it might belong to some railway workers, but it could also be police. To be safe, they told us to cross the bridge very slowly.

As we were already on the bridge, we heard dogs barking, and suddenly four or five policemen came out of the hut with flashlights, shouting: “Stop! Stop!” Well, instead of stopping, we all started to run as fast as we could, the guides leading the way—everyone trying to save themselves. The woman had the hardest time fleeing, and I stayed close to her, still carrying the boy on my shoulders. The terrain was rough and made worse by melting snow. The woman fell several times, even lost a shoe, and at one point told me she just couldn’t go on. So I took the baby girl in my arms as well.

At that moment I remembered that I was also carrying the Blessed Sacrament. I had kept Jesus with me for two years, because in Czechoslovakia I never knew where I could celebrate Mass or distribute Communion, and I had special permission to carry Him with me. I then prayed to Jesus with a depth I had never felt before: “Jesus, You must save us, at least for the sake of these innocent children! Have mercy on this mother and her little ones!”
Indeed, the police caught three people from our group who were able to run—but not us, who had been left behind. We were saved.

When we found ourselves alone, as the policemen chased the others, we headed toward the lights of a village, about four kilometers away. I fell into a ditch filled with water, but managed to hold myself up on the banks with my elbows, keeping the baby girl dry.
Before reaching the village, the mother wanted to check on the baby, to see if she was sleeping—and noticed that I was carrying her upside down, with her face downward! I wasn’t a very good nanny… But the baby was sleeping peacefully—probably because, the night before, using my medical studies, I had given her a mild poppy infusion to help her sleep and keep her from crying… and she slept perfectly—even upside down!

We arrived at the village while it was still night and knocked on the door of the parish priest. He welcomed us generously, regardless of the danger he exposed himself to, since we were still in the Russian zone.

At first, he thought I was the father of the boy and offered us breakfast. I told him in Latin—since I didn’t yet speak German—that I was a priest, and expressed my wish to celebrate Mass before breakfast. So, still soaking wet, I celebrated the most moving Mass of my life after my First Mass.

I felt I had been delivered from a danger from which, humanly speaking, there was no escape. I felt the Lord’s goodness, His grace, His plan—and during that Mass, which lasted long despite the cold church and my wet clothes, I kept asking: “Lord, what do You want from me, if You have saved me so miraculously?” And I consecrated myself, as I did during my First Mass, completely to His service through the hands of the Virgin Mary. I want to spend my life in her service, especially for the same cause for which thousands of priests suffer in prison—and for the conversion of Russia, just as Our Lady of Fatima requested.

Even today, I truly attribute my freedom to the innocence of the two children I carried in my arms. Because of them, I was not imprisoned again—Jesus must have been moved by the situation of those innocent children.
And I firmly believe that just as I was in grave danger then, so today all humanity is in an even greater danger. Truly, I believe that Our Lady is pleading with Jesus: “You must save humanity, at least for the innocence of the children.”

Even if nothing else good remained in the world, Jesus must still respect the innocence of children. From the life of Jesus, we know He had a special love for children—that whether tired or not, He always had an open heart and open arms for them.

Therefore, dear children, today Our Lady truly makes use of you and of your innocence for the salvation of the world. What you must do, you will find in the message that the Virgin of Fatima gave to the children.
She did not speak to three bishops, like me—but to three children—because you children are more capable than bishops or adults. And if you understand and live the message of Fatima like the three little shepherds did, everyone—even the adults—will follow you.”

Monsignor Pavel Hnilica
Titulary Bishop of Rusado – Founder of “Pro Fratribus”
Rome, 1977