Magyar Egyház, 1969 (48. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1969-11-01 / 11. szám
MAGYAR EGYHÁZ 17 seekers” in our congregations: they are the second-third generation people who—mostly when their parents have passed away—join an “American” (that is not Hungarian-background) church because “they don’t feel comfortable in the ghetto atmosphere of our congregational life.” Their guilt is not disloyalty when they leave the fellowship which brought them up in the nurture of the Lord; their guilt is the failure to recognize God’s special grace in our tradition. There are, of course, two sides to the coin: we, the loyal people who stay and who do not seek the “status” of an upper-middle-class American church, must share this guilt. For what have we done, what are we doing in order to make our younger generation truly appreciate our unique traditions? Slogans won’t do. Merely repeating that “we have a glorious 400 years old heritage”, won’t do... “I want to see our Church walking in the bright daylight of Christianity. And, in the daylight we cannot fail to see the world around us. Ghettoism is always aloofness, indifference to the world around. This is impossible for us—we live with the economical situation of all people, we live with the race problem, our young people go to colleges where they share the present campus generation’s concerns, our boys are involved in the war in Viet-Nam, there they fight and bleed and die. Our Church must speak to these and all other contemporary issues. God loved the world and sent His son to redeem it. We cannot say, our God is another God. “We have long passed the age when Hungarian immigrants formed a small world of their own: Hungarian foreman in the plant, Hungarian bartender in the tavern, Hungarian clerk in the grocery-store, and the Hungarian churches and church halls where they worshipped, ate and drank and danced in the Hungarian way. We are living in the midst of this turbulent American life of rapid social and moral change, and our youngsters even more so. The beauty of our Hungarian heritage is that we can contribute to this world all the talents we have received in trust from our Creator. “Today’s young generation is rebellious. The establishment—and we, the parents, do belong to the establishment—resents this rebellion. Well, we may resent their haphazardness, their negative attitude which only wants to destroy but has little new to offer in the place of the hated old, but we must be very silent when they criticize the present world of pollution, violence, crime, crookedness, profit-greed, inhuman indifference, the world playing with the atom bomb, the world replacing human dignity with the almighty machine’s impersonality. “The daylight of the Gospel of Christ can give a clear vision to the coming generation. But we all must reflect this daylight. 75 years of good work is admirable but it is no guarantee. No matter how strong the faith of your fathers has been for 75 straight years, it will be of little use if your faith will not be strong tomorrow, if your lives will not be clean tomorrow, if your standards will not be high tomorrow, if y o u will not be willing to serve and to love your Lord tomorrow. And all days thereafter...” Ákos G. Papp: JESUS AND THE CANAANITE WOMAN A Biblical Playlet Read first: Mark 3:10-11 Luke 4:33-37 Mark 3:22-27 Matthew 15:21-28 Narrator: Once upon a time, — and this is a true story — there lived a family in the land of Isreal. The man was a quiet, and humble person, and the woman a Greek, a Syrophoenician by birth. They had a little daughter, Deborah, who was only eleven years old, but she was very ill. She cried and screamed every night, and she was so afraid of darkness that she would not go to sleep unless mother would go with her and sit at her bedside. Mother: It’s time to go to sleep, Deborah. Look out. See the many stars sparkling in the sky? Isn’t that wonderful? Sleep well, and good night. Deborah: Don’t go, Mom, don’t leave me alone. I am so scared! Mother: Scared of what? Deborah: Every night someone talks to me out of the darkness, and he wants to catch me. Mother: Come on, now! It must be your imagination. Deborah: No, it is not. Mother: I have never heard anybody talking here during the night. Deborah: But I have, and I am not out of my mind either. Mother: Take it easy. Good night, darling. Narrator: So Deborah went to bed, and so did her mother. Mother fell asleep soon because she worked all day, and she was tired. But Deborah would not close her eyes. She sat up on her bed, and stared into the darkness. And then she suddenly heard something. Demon: I’m coming ... I’m coming... Deborah: 0 no! Who are you! Demon: 1 am the prince of the darkness. Deborah: You frighten me. Go awayi Demon: You are in my power. Deborah: No! No! Demon: I’ll put my fingers on your throat... Deborah: Go away! Mother! Mom! I am so scared! Mother: What is it? Deborah, you look so frightened! Deborah: There he stood, right in that corner. He was black, and his fingers were like the claws of a huge bird. Mother: It is just your imagination. You must be sick. O, my! Your hands are cold like ice. I’d better fix a cup of tea for you. Deborah: It’s past midnight, and you must sleep. Don’t think of foolish things. Close your eyes, and good night. Narrator: So mother walked back into her bedroom. She cried a little because she felt so helpless, but she hoped that Deborah would finally fall asleep. But she didn’t. There came the voice out of the darkness again. !
