Our First Mezöség Visit
Two young men offered to help us, Janos Erdos and David Pandy-Szekeres (professional photographers and writers, each with a theological education and a love for their churches). They were at the time engaged in creating a database and photos library of what remains they could find of the old Hungarian way of life, now that Communism was gone. They worked out of Kolozsvár (Cluj), Romania, and were quite familiar with many Diaspora churches, and were willing to show us some of them. So it was that we were brought into the Mezoseg (literally, "the field area"), extending eastward from Kolozsvár at the heart of the Carpathian basin. At one time it had been a solidly Hungarian area, with Reformed churches in every town; but through the years countless Hungarians had been moved out into the urban factories, and Romanian peasants brought in, until most villages are hardly able to sustain a Reformed church any more. In desperation the bishop’s office has clustered them into circuits, with the largest and most survivable churches at their centers. In these central churches, as much as possible, pastors are placed, with the duty of servicing the whole circuit as much as they can. It was to one such circuit of Diaspora churches that we were being brought.
From Kolozsvár, we traveled for over an hour among beautiful rolling hills and fields until we arrived at the village of Uzdi-Szent-Peter, picturesque even under dark skies and falling rain. The mud was so heavy we had to park below and climb the slippery slope on foot to a pretty little parsonage overlooking the village and surrounding fields. There lived a young pastor of five Diaspora congregations, Lajos (Lewis) Takacs. He was alone, for on his income he could hardly support a family, or even a wife. Inside the house was bare except for a couch, a chair and a table, surrounded by his boxes of books. He could afford nothing more.
Taking us, however, into a side room of the parsonage he showed us the treasures of the congregation: some ancient communion sets, a few pieces of old pottery, and several beautiful tablecloths for the Holy Supper dating back to the 16th century — one of which was checker boarded with blocks of woven gold mesh (the gift of a noble family in the distant past).
And, as we looked, Lajos enthusiastically repeated for us the history of this congregation from the 13th century, when the foundation of its first building was laid. Destroyed twice by Tartar invasions, the present structure was erected in the 1500s, with a bell tower added in 1901. (It was the kind of record, it seems, nearly every Transylvanian pastor is able and willing to give about the church he serves; history is something with which they live.) But now all that are left are about 200 Hungarians in the whole area, 30 to 100 of which are apt to attend services at any one time, and only 15 of which are below the age of 25. This is Lajos' strongest congregation. Each Sunday he holds his first service here before going out to do what he can for the rest. But even this congregation is poor, and can give little for him to live on.
From there he took us to see the rest.
The first was at Nagy-Olyves, a small village, fifteen to twenty miles away. Again we had to park the car and plod through the grease-like mud up to a beautiful little 16th century church set on a ridge overlooking the town, and with a quaint old wooden bell tower next to it.
Quickly a number of aged church members gathered around, all from the one remaining Hungarian street in the town, at the end of which is one family with ten children, the only children of the congregation and its only future hope. Eagerly they showed us the parsonage, empty but quite livable, as repeatedly they expressed the wish that someday it might house a pastor once again. But the congregation is poor and incapable even of paying for the fuel it takes for Lajos to travel there. (Recently they had to ask him to come but once a month instead of twice because they couldn't afford to pay for more fuel than that.) They have land, but nothing to work it with; and so their only income is from the little they get from renting it out to some Romanians who can afford to hire government tractors to prepare it for use.
There was one exception, a woman from the congregation who saved enough to travel by bus to Kolozsvár, and buy a stock of goods, which she now sells out of her living-room window. There is little else available in town, and she does quite well. We left money to enable the older children in that large family of the congregation to go to summer camp, and went on.
This brought us to Pagocea. An old Reformed church building stands on the main street there, with a bell tower next to it; except that sometime ago the building was taken away under some governmental pretense and given to a Romanian family for a residence, forcing the congregation to buy a little house in which it now meets. But the bell tower is still theirs, and proudly they use it to announce their services, funerals and other special events, to the pleasure of the whole community.
From there it was not far to Pagocea Vodgye. Quickly again a number of church members came to trudge with us around a large fishpond to the church on the other side. This too is a converted house, which they purchased from a Romanian man in 1984 for 8,000 lei (a sizable amount then, but now the equivalent of hardly more than five American dollars). It had been in poor shape, but they rebuilt it completely on a new beaten-earth floor. And it serves their purpose well, except that the Romanian, who sold it to them, now wants it back, and shows up periodically with a group of friends as though to take it by force. Twice it has been in court, and each time he lost. But now the court has agreed to hear the case again; and, given the favoritism often shown to Romanians, the little congregation of 36 members is never quite sure where it stands. The one other congregation, which fills out Lajos' circuit of churches, we had no time to see, a larger one at Tueon, we were told, it has nearly 100 members and a building of its own. There Lajos is able to go each Sunday, for the congregation is able at least to meet the cost of the fuel it takes for him to travel there. But beyond that there is little more he can afford to do.
And that is the problem. These churches have a pastor, but with hardly the means to live, much less to do his work. He receives a small pittance from the government (as all church workers do), plus some assistance from the bishop's office (when it has it to give, for there are dozens of cases such as this, and limited resources from which to draw), and the little his congregations can give him, amounting to the equivalent each month of about $45 in American Funds (USD). The bishop's office has supplied him with an old Russian diesel car, but to keep it in repair and supplied with fuel would cost him upward of $40 a month in itself; and on what then would he live? In desperation he has tried at times to walk; but realistically the distances are too great. And so he considers the possibility of asking for a transfer to another place, except that he has no assurance conditions might be any better there.
When it comes down to it, what is needed is a new economic base on which the people can live and support their churches as they should, along with some younger people encouraged to move back to the villages from which they came. If only some farm machinery could be had, a tractor and accessories, with a young man to drive it from community to community preparing the land, and helping in its care; or if means could be supplied and guidance given for others, like the woman with her living-room store, to open businesses of various kinds. The need is there, and the opportunities endless if only the impetus to get started can be given. Possibly then those young people, left without work in the cities, would be willing to move back, and start village life, so carefully fashioned and preserved for centuries, could be started up again. These people do need our help and our prayers, for, as James says, 5:16, The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.