"I experienced the greatest crisis of faith there because I thought that the faith suddenly appeared to me more like something that fits into some cultural context, that we know here, and into some forms of relationships. And I must say that I was probably the closest in my life to a situation where I thought that faith was just some kind of a crutch, some phenomenon that did not suffice for this horror, and at that point, I started praying intensely. I told myself that if it's not like that, then Lord God, you must take care of it. So then I did one thing I narrate quite often – I stopped dining, sometimes during Lent, and prayed instead. And I still perceive it as something very intimate and spiritual. I somehow met the Lord God there in a way that I believe he has these things under control too. But I am unable to describe it rationally – what was it, at what moment, but in short, I have faith that even these things... that I left with–I would say–a very intense faith that even these things, even though they are so insane, did not completely escape God. But it was a process significantly associated with a huge crisis of faith.”
“And so they really tried some pretty hard things on me. I was a young boy, twenty-eight twenty-nine. I didn't know anyone in the army. I was quite alone there. So these were very hard times, but somehow I managed to handle it again because I decided to tell the commander. That in short, I know about it and that I can't say it, that it is sealed by a priestly secret, and if he wants to send me back again for punishment, which is one of the highest forms of military punishment, the so-called repatriation, I'm ready and that I will tell nobody anyway. And he stood up for me, the commander. Lieutenant Colonel Prokš, at that time, then a two-star general, we are friends to this day. And so, of course, those were challenging times, and for me, it was also a huge question of faith in God, the meaningfulness of faith, the relationship to the evil that I saw there. So the military was a huge lesson for me. And also the search for respect for people who look for the meaning of life, good and evil, in a completely different way, because there was a lot of good and evil there, so the people reflected on it. And they reflected on it completely different from the Christian way, and one suddenly learned to respect this way of searching. So it was- looking back on it, I think it was great. But of course, it wasn't always ideal at the time.”
"That freedom has enormous potential, but that potential has both pluses and minuses. That it is something that is given and connected to human freedom. Human freedom is associated with the horror of self-centeredness, which can be blinded by some ideology, but that freedom is also associated with the incredible beauty of being able to love. And that we are actually again and again in this huge abyss, which is connected with this 'either or'. That it is something that is fought for again and again and cannot be secured structurally or doctrinally or in any coercive way. In short, it is a new struggle that exists, and always deciding anew, and actually, the task of people who have met or believe in goodness and God is to offer some space that can lead them in a good way in that search. That's what I'm convinced of, and it confirmed me in the fact that the basis is to believe in the good that happens individually and not that which can be achieved on a mass scale, somehow dictated or ensured promotionally or ideologically. That's probably what I took away. And that we can lose it as individuals, of course. That there are situations where we lose it as individuals, cynically and brutally."
"We live in an age of enormous tensions that are increasing. This means - there is much more of a barricade way of communication, i.e. from a barricade to barricade. And I think that the task of the church - and I see this as my fundamentally personal task as a bishop - is to be in the middle and let it be bombarded from both sides. It means someone who tries to communicate on both sides and does not create any radical positions that are combative. That it's always... I've experienced war, and war truly sucks in the worst sense of the word. And the effort to prevent war is the greatest effort we must have, and it doesn't matter if it's a culture war or ultimately a weapons war. In short, war, where you have to defeat the other, is terrible. And precisely because of my experience, I know what it means, not only in theory. And for this reason, I think this is a big task, and these challenges that exist today, or threats, increase the danger so significantly that the way we interpret the world will be polarizing and warlike. And I think that we have a huge duty to try to go, to have the courage to go to that middle ground, where it is not about some unambiguous, simple declarations that are condensed and which are always ideological and demagogic, but about some kind of search for the truth which is much broader and liberating and demanding and which stands for an effort to understand other people and to admit one's own mistakes. And this, I think, is the terrible challenge or the great challenge of today. But the question is how we live up to it. We will see."
"We went to the military after the second year of the theological faculty, so I was in the seminary for two years, in a completely different environment, and then I went to the military. And in the military, it was a classic type of military of the time, where there was pretty rough and strenuous bullying. I was quite mentally prepared for it, so I have to say that I perceived it as some kind of resistance that should be endured rather than defied because I felt like it was impossible to change the system in any way. But I was terribly shaken by the death of that one Slovak soldier from Orava, a nice boy who somehow couldn't stand it and committed suicide. Actually, he was somewhere, he had a locker right next to me, a locker that we had in the corridors. And at that time, I began to testify in some investigation of the suicide, which of course immediately got out through some of those channels to those old hands and politruks. And thus, I was labelled a snitch and a difficult time began for me. They prohibited all my leaves. In fact, revenge was coming from all sides. Because I talked about what was going on in there. So I have to say that it was a pretty big lesson for the next parts of my life. This period of that one year was very demanding, also mentally demanding, and it taught me a lot of things."
Human freedom is associated with the horror of self-centeredness, which can be blinded by an ideology. But freedom is also associated with the incredible beauty of being able to love.
Tomáš Holub was born on August 16, 1967, in Jaroměř. He grew up in nearby Červený Kostelec in a family that was heavily discriminated against during the communist regime. His mother Marie was the daughter of politician and deputy Karel Říčař, who was sentenced to ten years in prison in the 1950s on trumped-up charges. Father Zdeněk Holub originally wished to enter a priestly seminary but spent several years with the Technical Auxiliary Battalions instead. Tomáš, the eldest of their five children, managed to enter the priesthood. He began his studies at the theological faculty in Litoměřice during the socialist period but also had to interrupt his studies for two years due to compulsory military service in the Czechoslovak People‘s Army. He returned from the war with very negative and even traumatic experiences in the fall of the landmark year 1989. During the Velvet Revolution, he actively engaged in the student movement. One year later, he went to Salzburg, Austria, where he continued his studies at the theological faculty as part of a scholarship. He finished his studies at Charles University in Prague and was ordained a priest in 1993. He taught at a Catholic Gymnasium for two years, and in 1995 he was offered the position of military chaplain associated with joining the army. He went through demanding military training and then went to Bosnia as part of the IFOR units. A year later, he became the chief chaplain of the Army of the Czech Republic. During the following eight years, he participated in developing religious service in the army. In this capacity, he repeatedly stayed in other countries where war conflicts were taking place. After 11 years, he left the army with the rank of colonel to devote himself only to church affairs. He first became vicar-general of the Hradec Králové diocese. Then he moved to Prague, where he was elected dean of the Vyšehrad Chapter and at the same time became secretary-general of the Czech Bishops‘ Conference. In this capacity, he participated in negotiations on church restitution. In 2016, he was appointed bishop of the Pilsen Diocese by Pope Francis, and Cardinal Dominik Duka ordained him in February of the same year.
