What happens when a cardinal who spent two decades in communist prison steps onto the world stage at 96 to pray for deliverance from demons, cancer, and the wounds of history—armed with nothing but his memory, a lifetime of scars, and a Latin prayer?
At a Glance
- Cardinal Ernest Simoni survived 18 years in Albanian communist prison and became a global symbol of faith and resilience.
- In 2025, at age 96, he led a dramatic prayer of deliverance at a worldwide exorcism conference in Newark, New Jersey.
- Simoni’s story intertwines Cold War persecution, clandestine ministry, and Vatican recognition—culminating in his elevation to cardinal by Pope Francis.
- His ongoing ministry inspires Catholics worldwide and highlights the enduring legacy of faith under fire.
A Cardinal’s Testimony: From Prisoner to Deliverer
Cardinal Ernest Simoni’s life plays like a Cold War thriller, minus the tuxedo but heavy on the iron bars. Born in 1928 in Troshani, Albania, Simoni’s childhood wasn’t all sunshine and catechism. By age ten, he was in seminary, but Albania’s communists had other plans. In 1963, after daring to say Mass for the soul of John F. Kennedy, Simoni was arrested, accused of anti-state activity, and sentenced to death—a sentence commuted to 18 years of prison and forced labor. His “crime”? Faith, celebrated in public, whispered in the darkness, and shared with fellow inmates who clung to hope as the world forgot them.
Simoni’s ministry didn’t end at the prison gates. After his release in 1981, he faced harassment, surveillance, and the constant threat of re-arrest. Yet, he continued his clandestine priesthood, ministering to Albanians desperate for sacraments and solace. When communism fell in 1991, Simoni emerged from the shadows, becoming a prolific exorcist—reportedly performing several exorcisms a day, sometimes for non-Catholics. In 2014, Pope Francis met the unbowed priest and, moved by his story, elevated him to cardinal two years later, waiving the usual requirements to honor a man whose faith outlasted steel bars and secret police.
Deliverance on a Global Stage: Newark 2025
Fast-forward to July 2025. The Worldwide Exorcism Conference in Newark, New Jersey, is buzzing with clergy, laypeople, and a few wide-eyed reporters. At center stage stands Cardinal Simoni—96 years old, but eyes bright, voice resolute. He leads a prayer of deliverance in Latin, seeking liberation from demonic influences, healing for cancer sufferers, and hope for women struggling with infertility. This isn’t Hollywood exorcism. There are no spinning heads, just the gravity of a man whose prayers once echoed inside concrete cells. Simoni’s words, recited from memory, electrify the crowd. Flanking him are seasoned exorcists like Fr. John Szada and Msgr. John Esseff, but it’s Simoni’s witness—his years of silent resistance—that gives the moment its charge.
Simoni’s prayer isn’t the full Roman Rite of Exorcism. It’s a prayer of deliverance—less drama, more depth. He speaks of the Fatima prophecy, the dangers of spiritual darkness, and the relentless need for faith in a world that sometimes feels possessed by its own demons. For many attendees, Simoni embodies the Church’s call to confront evil, not just with ritual, but with a life forged in suffering and forgiveness. Pope Francis, who recently called Simoni a “living martyr,” continues to highlight his story as a blueprint for courage in the face of tyranny.
Ripples from a Prison Cell: The Legacy of Cardinal Simoni
Simoni’s impact travels far beyond the walls of any conference hall. His story puts a human face on the persecution of Christians under communism, reminding the faithful that martyrdom isn’t ancient history—it happened within living memory. For Albanian Catholics, Simoni is both a national treasure and a symbol of the grit required to keep faith alive when the world turns hostile. For Catholics worldwide, his example encourages renewed interest in deliverance ministry and exorcism, pushing these practices from the realm of folklore into the foreground of spiritual care.
The Church, by elevating Simoni, signals a deep respect not just for him but for all who resisted regimes bent on erasing faith. His ongoing ministry, even in his late nineties, draws attention to spiritual needs often ignored in a secular age. The economic impact might be modest—a bump for conference hotels and restaurants—but socially and politically, Simoni’s story reaffirms the Church’s commitment to religious freedom and its resistance to totalitarianism. Perhaps most importantly, his legacy may inspire future generations of clergy and laity to stand firm when the world demands silence.
