Magyar Egyház, 1970 (49. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1970-11-01 / 11. szám
MAGYAR EGYHÁZ 11 BETHLEN YOUTH FEDERATION NATIONAL CONFERENCE 1970 Seen through the eyes of a minister. When we boarded the Detroit bus taking us to the conference, I had some misgivings. There was youthful energy present in plentiful excess, to say the least. However, Charlie, our driver helped me to take my mind off such minor problems. For awhile I even suspected that he drew a second salary from the Viet Cong to drive a bus in the USA. Our group being the first in arrival we had a chance to get acquainted with the camp even before the host grooo was able to point out its advantages. However, I must admit that in spite of the standard disadvantages of such a camp as “Camp Minisink” is, we had very little reason for complaint. The food reminded us of the good old Army days — including the cook. There was plenty of it, if you were fast enough to get it. It was edible and even surprisingly tasty. The cottages were comfortable, and the lake was large enough for any boat-minded person. The scene is still vivid in my mind, when “Doorbell” ran toward the beach and shouted excitedly: “Look! Whiteheads!” Naturally, someone had to spoil his fun and tell him that it was only detergent foam swimming on the water. Our days were spent in comfort. The host group must have instructed even the famous New Jersey mosquitoes to take it easy, and except the few sprinkles the weather was very good, too. Group picture. The best part of this year’s conference was the spiritual richness of the programs, and the books available, the interesting entertainment — and mainly the wonderful Christian fellowship that prevailed everywhere all the time. It was good to see young people have good fun, clean fun (and I had plenty of shaving cream lather to show to prove it!), yet when the time came, these same young people, still full of youthful energy in plentiful excess, just as on the bus, these young people became silent, reverent, ready to communicate with each other — and God. The lectures provided a good opportunity to learn, the “quiet time” provided a chance to sort out our thoughts, and the young people did this very willingly. It would be a repetition of Frank Papp’s article in last month’s Magyar Egyház to say any more about the different opportunities. But I must mention the two occasions of worship service that remained especially deep-seated in my mind. The communion service and the candle-light service was something to behold. I wish I could have invited every sarcastic, cynical critique of today’s youth to these two occasions. They would have had second thoughts, as we, adult advisors present Mae Dooley is lecturing. did. It is good to know that when the time comes and the church will be looking for new leaders and workers, there will be a good stock of willing and able laborers available for this task. The church will only have to look among the participants of this year’s conference. Of course, there is another side of every coin, and even of this year’s conference. I must hasten to say that this fact is a task for the future more than a word of criticism of the past. Many of us felt that now that we know how to be a Christian beyond and above church duties (I am sure everyone agrees that this would have been a more truthful summary of our spiritual experience), we would like to know more about how to be good Hungarian Reformed Christians. Seeing these young people repeat and imitate Peter Paul and Mary and every other contemporary American popular person relevant to the theme of this conference, I feel proud. Now, I will be even prouder, if at the next conference we will hear of religious-freedom-loving Gabor Bethlen, László Ravasz, and our own Hungarian Reformed Church in America, and its own heritage, history, pride — and problems. Parents, pastors (myself included!) and mainly, McKeesport Youth Fellowship, the hosts of next year’s conference — let us see a youth and a conference in 1971 that is worthy to succeed this year’s. As an afterthought: I heard that Mrs. Dudich had an accident, and some bones need mending, and “Jóska bácsi” (Uncle Joe) had a visit in the hospital, also. We hope that neither were after-effects of the physical strain of hard labor at Minisink. I, as the ministerial advisor for the West would like to take this opportunity, to thank these two wonderful, “Big Bertha” or “Are you sure this is the way David got Goliath?”
