Calvin Synod Herald, 1978 (78. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

1978-05-01 / 5-6. szám

2

CALVIN SYNOD HERALD

HERALD

CALVIN SYNOD

Official Organ Of Tha Calvin Synod - United Church of Chmt Foundod In 1*00

REFORMÁTUSOK LAPJA

a-—

May-June 1978

Volume 78, No. 5-6

Published bi-monthly.

Editor-in-Chief: The Right Reverend Dr. John Butosi, Bishop 963 Laurel Ave., Bridgeport, Conn. 06604

EDITOR: REV. DR. FRANCIS VITÉZ 493 Amboy Ave., Perth Amboy, N.J. 08861 201-826-3513

Subscription-Elöfizetés: yearly: individual: $5.00 group: $3.50 Printed by I. H. Printing Co., New Brunswick, N.J.

Second class postage paid at Perth Amboy, N.J. 08861 Send Form 3579 to Calvin Synod Herald-Reformatusok Lapja Circulation Department 493 Amboy Ave., Perth Amboy, N.J. 08861 Please make checks payable to the Calvin Synod Herald Send all correspondence to the Editor Manuscripts and photographs are not preserved or returned.

THE EDITORIAL BOARD:

Editor-in-Chief ____ The Right Rev. Dr. John Butosi, Bishop

Editor ____________________________ Rev. Dr. Francis Vitéz

Board Members: Rev. Desmond D. Parragh, Rev. Zoltán Király, Dr. Joseph Piri, Rev. Arpad Antal, Rev. Zoltán Szabó, Rev. Victor Orth, Rt. Rev. Dr. Stephen Szabó, Rev. Leslie Egry, Rev. Andrew Hamza.

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CALVIN SYNOD HEADQUARTERS:

Rt. Rev. Dr. John Butosi, Bishop 963 Laurel Avenue Bridgeport, Conn. 06604 203-368-6358 * * *

CALVIN SYNOD YOUTH CAMP August 20-26

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH CAMP R 711 N

Ligonier, Pa. 15658 Camp Director:

REV. ANTHONY SZILAGYI, JR.

R. D. No. 3 Carlisle, Pa. 17013

O « *

“THE GALILEAN ACCENT”

For most of us the name Galilee denotes an area, somewhat hard to define, in the northern part of what had been the northern Kingdom, Israel. In the early times this was the land where much of the mixing of ancient Israel’s population with surrounding tribes took place. Apart from life in a few minor cities, not much had happened there that would be worthy of the historian’s pen.

The most significant period of that history up to our day was that stretch of 30 years, marked by the presence of Jesus of Nazareth. Undoubtedly, out of the 30 or so, 3

years stand out that you and I certainly find unforgettable. It is through those years and what’s reported about them that scores of names, of places and people, come to mind.

Nazareth, where he had lived. Capernaum, where he probably visited the synagogue most often. Bethsaida and Chorazin, the unresponsive towns. Cana, where he went to the wedding in his mother’s company. Nain, and the young man who died. And then the lake from whose shores wearied fishermen joined his quest for the Kingdom of God. Caesarea Philippi, with Peter’s Confession. Magdala, the hometown of a girl whose life he turned around. The whole land with people of provincial culture, limited refinement, meager resources, poverty, sickness, pain, confussion, hunger. A string of synagogues with groups around them, living with the moderate orthodoxy of their spiritual leaders, a backdrop so suitable for unusual and controversial interpretations.

It was this land that first received the Gospel of Salvation. The timid fishermen and tax collectors did not quite fully learn the “Koine,” the street language of hellenized Jewry. As soon as they opened their mouth, they could be picked out and pinpointed by the bystanders anywhere.

And just imagine the culture shock of that Pentecost multitude of devout Jews from Jerusalem and “from every nation under heaven,” when from the lips of a handful of Galileans they heard as we’re told “in their own tongues the mighty works of God!”

Lord, I came from my own Galilee. Its cities and towns have their images etched on my mind. Its great plains with green and blue rivers, its robust mountains covered with beech and oak and pine, its orchards with the sweet nectar of their fruit on my tongue I can never forget. The noontime and evening bells of its churches and the melodies of their singing-dancing maidens and lads, along with the rhythm of their swinging movement in work and play is probably inextricable from my blood.

As you sent me on my mission, Lord, you took me out of my Galilee. You made me follow some of my own people scattered over the world when the cannons boomed and the bombs exploded, men collapsed into corpses, women shrieked as if losing their minds, and children and babies wailed in dreadful chorus. If and when I meet some of them these days we still do reminisce in our Galilean dialect. Some of us still woefully wrestle with the Koine. The only comfort you gave us was that your Spirit could move us to tell about your mighty works in words and actions of faith, hope and love, which, in spite of ourselves, others will understand.

Lord, my brothers and sisters too have their own Galilees. Places they came from; families that reared them; circles of hometown friends; highways and byways they’ve traveled along; cities with handsome schools for thousands or towns with little red schoolhouses; colleges of note and of honored tradition ... ethnic backgrounds, all perhaps, recasting and refinement of shadows of poverty and middle-class comforts, tragedies and joys in the melting pot of life!

Lord, you sent them, you sent us, on o» mission. Or more truthfully perhaps, on your mission. We came into a world of cacophony, noise pollution, madly carousing crowds as well as of sensitive, suffering, millions of people. You keep sending us on, some with new different orders, knowing that our own separate Galilees have made us what we are. You made sure we all see the crowds waiting for Spiritfilled utterances from on high.

God, is it really too much to ask, that, whoever we are, you put on our tongues the Word of your Son, the sweet accents of the Galilean? Rev. Louis Bell