Magyar Egyház, 1962 (41. évfolyam, 2-12. szám)
1962-12-01 / 12. szám
fi MAGYAR EGYHÁZ MAGYAR CHURCH (Ehriötmaö Andrew Harsányi: When Santa Claus Was Only Bishop Nicholas of Myra Nicholas was sitting quietly on the finely carved, wooden chair. He placed the chair close to one of the marble columns in the huge hall so he could lean back and rest his head against it. It was early in the morning and the day was July the fourth in the year of our Lord 325. The rays of the sun found their way between the columns into the hall cutting bright lanes through the air and reflecting brilliantly upon the thousands of mosaic stones with which the floor was laid out. It was going to be a hot day but at the foot of the pillar one would be protected from the sun and the marble was cool even on the hottest day. It was good to sit there, comfortably, Nicholas thought. There were some 300 others in the hall, from all corners of the Roman Empire. Coming up to the hall Nicholas met a man who said he was the bishop of Cordova from the Province of Hispánia. The man told about the great ocean on the Western side of his country which, he said, had no other shore because it was the end of the world. Incredible, Nicholas said to himself, everything must have an end, God alone is endless. But what is where that great western ocean ends? Nicholas wasn’t able to answer that. The people in the hall, all bishops and patriarchs and learned men of the Church of Jesus Christ, were chattering loudly and excitedly. Nicholas could see two thick groups in the two comers. He knew that the one was around Arius, the old minister from Alexandria who looked and talked like a prophet: his eyes were like lightning, his voice like thunder, and he nervously pulled on his bushy beard. Others surrounded Athanasius, the brilliant young scholar who also came from Alexandria — from Egypt. They were summoned to this big imperial hall in Nicaea by the Emporor Constantine. Every bishop of the empire was asked to come and the best scholars of the realm to sit in council and settle the disputes and preserve the unity of the Church. The emperor provided free transportation to all, comfortable litters, smooth servants, good inns, the finest of food. Nicholas couldn’t help remembering. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and saw himself on a different kind of journey. Still a young man but already bishop of Myra, he had a yearning to see the Holy Land, to see the places where his Lord and Sattior was bom, where he taught the multitudes, where he lived and died and rose again. He planned his trip with care. That was around the turn of the century and Christians had no good name in those years. It was better to dress as a young merchant and since Nicholas came from a rich family it was no problem to pack up some of the famous woolen fabrics of Asia Minor: purple from Thyatira, white from Sardis, and raven-black from Laodicea. He arrived safely to Jerusalem. It was early whiter, cleur and crisp. He had a sudden impulse to go to Bethlehem. He couldn’t tell exactlyy how it was but as if it had been the night of the holy birth — Nicholas heard the beautiful stoiy so many times from his mother — and as he leandered through the fields he was sure he heard the song of angels. And why not? He remembered that Christ ivas the same yesterday, today and forever, so the gloiy of His birth remained true for ever. He arrived in Bethlehem with all his woolen fabric. What should he do with them? In his room in the inn he began to cut them up into parcels fit for a child. Then — as night came — he took some under his cloak and wandered along the empty streets of Bethlehem. Where he heard the voices of children he put a parcel on the doorstep. He worked feverishly, returned a dozen times to the inn for new parcels — by early dawn he distributed all the wool he had. That winter no child in Bethlehem would be cold, The journey back from the Holy Land was rather adventurous — and dangerous, too. He took a ship which was to sail from Joppa directly to Myra, his home town. They had hardly passed the island of Cyprus when a storm broke. All aboard were frightened to death. Everybody was praying — the names of many gods fluttered in the air. Nicholas, too, knelt down on the deck and prayed. And the storm subsided and the sun came out and the sea became calm. Sailors and passengers gathered around Nicholas: "What power do you possess that you can calm the sea?" "I have no special powers." “But you must admit the storm is gone and we are saved." “The Lord wanted to spare our lives, that’s all,” was Nicholas’ answer but as he said it he knew at once that he betrayed himself. Before long the captain of the ship came up to him, “So, you are a Christian!" “Yes, I am, thanks be to Christ, my God!" As Nicholas said this, an odd thing happened: many of the passengers stepped close to Nicholas and hastily added, “I am a Christian, too, praise be to Christ, my God!” The captain angrily answered that he would do what all Christians, enemies of the Empire, deserved: he would not stop in Myra but sail on to Greece and sell them as slaves. “What can we do?" the Christians asked each other in despair. “You shouldn’t have told him that you were a Christian!" “But you mustn’t deny your Lord!" Amid the confusion and wailing Nicholas’ voice was firm: “Brethren, all we can do is pray that the Lord may deliver us if He pleases and as He pleases.” And accompanied by the jeers and threats of the sailors they prayed. And lo, the wind turned, the sea began to ripple, the waves rose higher and higher, and soon a new storm was raging. It was a night of fury — Nicholas and the Christians didn’t stop praying while the sailors shouted in anger and fear: “See, the cheaters! Now we know that their prayers are no good. Their god is no god! They can’t save themselves. But who cares for them! We are going to perish too!” But as the day broke they sighted land and soon the damaged ship reached the port of Myra — their original destination. The captain didn’t dare touch the Christians and the news spread in the province fast: “God
