As a minister-in-training, I'm still pleasantly surprised each time I'm with a group of ministers that they're just regular people who laugh, tell stupid jokes, share stories, stare into space, sing songs, tease each other, and talk theology or church politics too. It's an obvious fact that miniters aren't exculsively serious and churchy, yet one I appreciate being reminded of! (You may notice that my English is subpar these days - it's because I'm immersed in Hungarian and Hungarian-influenced English is all that I hear these days!)
Pretty much all of the ministers speak some English (even if many of them held out until the last day to speak any), which means I got to have lots of conversations with ministers from small towns and big cities, young and old, etc. The Unitarian church here faces many big questions about the future, some of which they talked about during this retreat.
Historical Tangent
The ethnic/religious politics here are supercomplicated, especially to an ignorant North American who came of age during the Cold War). (As a side note, today I've enjoyed reading feminist Croatian journalist Slavenka Drakulic's "How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed," a 1992 volume that gives me a bit more context on daily life pre-1989.) My crude summary for you at this point is this: Transylvania was majority Hungarian (ethnically, linguistically, and politically) until WWI, when it became part of the nation-state of Romania. According to Wikipedia (yes, I know...),
The new regime's objective became to effectively Romanianize Transylvania in a social-political fashion, after centuries of Hungarian rule.[66] The regime's goal was to create a Romanian middle and upper class that would assume power in all fields. The Hungarian language was expunged from official life that it solely occupied before, and all place-names were Romanianized.[67] About 197,000 Transylvanian Hungarians fled to Hungary between 1918 and 1922,[68] and a further group of 169,000 emigrated over the remainder of the interwar period.[67] In 1930, Romanians formed the majority of the Transylvanian population (58.2%, up from 53.8% in 1910), while Magyars (26.7%, down from 31.6% in 1910), Germans (9.8%) and Jews (3.2%) were minority groups.[69]
Under Communism, Ceacescu continued importing thousands upon thousands of ethnic/linguistic Romanians into Transylvania, as well as moving huge numbers of rural folks into massive apartment buildings (one of the Unitarian churches we visited in Budapest is in the middle of one of these massive apartment neighborhoods called "Havana" after Cuba -- indeed, it looked much like many neighborhoods I saw in my 2003 trip to Cuba with the Venceremos Brigade - that was the unabashedly pro-commie trip, this is the wholeheartedly anti-commie trip; I'll withhold judgment until later).
Thus, the Transylvanian Unitarians (nearly all Hungarian) feel totally screwed over. This has been their land for a millenium, yet for decades they were forbidden to speak their language and practice their ethnic and religious traditions. During this time, several generations from the villages of Szekelyland (Eastern Transylvania, the Hungarian subgroup called the Szekely, pronounced "Sekay") left to the cities (afterall, much agrarian land was nationalized and thus not usable, as I'm told). Now, 20 years after the '89 revolution, the villages are missing these generations. Okland, where I am now, had 1500 people 30 or 40 years ago, now it has barely 500.
Back to the Retreat
Many villages are shrinking, yet the church has a commitment currently to maintain a (fulltime) minister in each village. Obviously, a shrinking village cannot financially support a fulltime minister. The Romanian government provides nearly half the budget for many churches, thanks to the often-unforunate influence of the Greek Orthodox church here (this seems strange from a U.S. perspective, but is actually quite common in Europe - ask me later about the class I took in Rome). Of course, this money comes with strings attached.
So what is the Unitarian church here to do? Do nothing: die out. Do something: maybe survive. This is what a few ministers have told me. What is that something? What is the vision? This is the conversation happening everywhere, and was much of the conversation during the retreat. I skipped the focused conversation on this, however, because without translation it would have been quite meaningless!
Call and Vocation
I did, however, participate in the first part of the conversation on Call and Vocation. What is call, vocation, professionalism? What is your story? How does this unfold over time? This was the topic of conversation the first day. I only caught pieces of the conversation from bits of translation thanks to Endre and questions to others later. These pieces remind me how similar we are across geography and ecclesiology -- calling is at times cloudy or clear, intense or ambiguous, full of love and frustration. There are more questions than answers, and there is slim comfort in sharing the questions without answers. I found comfort in knowing that the ministers here, old and young, are wrestling with these questions just as I am.
In the silence of nem-bezselek-magyar ("I don't speak Hungarian"), however, I am realizing the culmination of my seminary education that this trip is. One of the stories in the book about Pilgrimages that I read last week was called "Spiritual Discomfort." Indeed! I am not comfortable not understanding so much around me, yet I am getting so much better at simply being present to what I can see, hear, appreciate and what I can't. Most of the time, I am patient to be with the questions, and with my lack of understanding of most of what's said around me. It forces me to go inward to my own resources, thoughts, feelings, and ruminations more than I ever do in the hustle-bustle of my U.S. life. Kinga-Reka has asked me repeatedly if I'm bored -- how can I explain what a luxury it is for me to be bored? Those of you who know me have never seen me bored. Yet here, I can say that I have been bored for a few hours a couple of times -- and yes, this is in some ways a luxury I never allow myself in the U.S. Even with my regular, even hard-core at times, Sabbath practice, one day is never enough to actually be bored. Several days of limited access to those who speak my language, or internet, or to-do lists has actually led to some boredom. Hallelujah! Not that boredom is all great--it can be somewhat lonely and exhausting too. I am that much more appreciative of short or long conversations about ministry, English, village life, history, children, seminary, etc.
Seeing Budapest
The folks here are smart: they plan the talky program for only half the day, leaving much of the day for informal conversation while doing other things. The first day, we all went to St. Luke's spa, which was quite similar to Szechenyi Spa that I went to when I first arrived. It was fabulous, and fun to be there with 20 ministers.
The second day, I skipped the official program (since I was quite bored and frustrated by not understanding the first day), and went to the biggest synagogue in Europe, and the second-largest in the world, the Duhany St. Synagogue. I mistakenly walked into another synagogue (Rumbach Street) first and was quite depressed that it was empty and under serious construction - only later did I realize I was in the wrong place, and in fact that was a more orthodox synagogue that split off from the main one for such practices as allowing organ music during services.
The first thing I noticed was the Minaret-like spires of the Synagogue that you see here. Inside, the floors are "Turkish," there's an organ and pulpits mid-way in the hall like you find in some Catholic churches. The design is surprisingly multi-religious, as pointed out by our Broolyn-accented-Hungarian-New Yorker tour guide, though he didn't give an explanation. This is where early Jewish Zionist Theodore Herzl was born (across the street) and had is Bar Mitzvah. Behind the synagogue is a haunting yet beautiful memorial to the approx 600,000 Jewish(and other?) Hungarians killed by the Nazis. Each leaf of this tree has a name on it, or "anonymous number XX." The structure is an upside-down menorah - the flames have been snuffed out because it is upside down. You can see photos here.
I would, of course, be remiss not to also mention the huge Unitarian building just blocks from the Hungarian parliament! Interestingly, the sanctuary is nestled on the third floor, where it is sheltered from the city noise. Constructed in the same era as the Great Synagogue and the Parliament, all three have stained glass windows by the same famous Jewish artisan. You can see photos and read more history here. Minister Jozsef Kazsoni gave us a warm welcome and shared much history and conversation with me during meals and our walk to the historic Castle area of Buda on Friday. Like many Unitarian ministers here, he knows more about U.S. UU ministers and churches than I do! The three Unitarian churches in cosmopolitan Budapest are quite different in flavor from the village churches - more fluid membership, more young folks, etc.
Friday evening, Kinga-Reka, Orban Erika, Elud, Arpad, and others led an innovative worship service at one of the other Unitarian congregations. While it might not be anything special from a U.S. perspective, it was highly unusual to have several ministers presiding, and most of them did not speak from the elevated pulpit. After the service, Kinga led a discussion. Since the congregation has been without a minister for a year and no one has yet applied this year, the discussion drifted from the topic of the service and into the congregants' frustration about their situation (including fear that they may disappear if they cannot get a minister - lay-led worship or congregations are quite unheard of here).
Back "home
Are you tired of reading yet? I'm almost done! Saturday we took another long, long busride home (doubling my travel time for a total of 60 hours thus far). After learning and playing a travel game version of Settlers of Catan (I recommend it!), I had hoped to have many more conversations with ministers, but it was a rainy, dreary day and the cold I was fighting caught me. I slept most of the way home, and literally all day Sunday. Monday I felt relatively healthy again, and spent a final day with Kinga-Reka and the kids.
Next up: Okland, gender, and more theology!
Really interesting stuff, thanks!
ReplyDelete