Magyar Egyház, 1992 (71. évfolyam, 1-5. szám)
1992-05-01 / 5. szám
MAGYAR EGYHÁZ 11. oldal is what he wanted to do with the nativity painting. But then he realized that in his state of health he simply could not do it. And there were only four weeks left and not a stroke yet done. He had to resign himself to the regular routine. The composition was ready in his mind. On the many sleepless nights he had figured out every detail. Thinking of the picture was his comfort in pain. Then one morning he did the sketch and let his men start working. As it was of a large size canvass more than one men could work on it at the same time. And Master Cornelis was there, impatiently tearing the brush out of a hand whose work he wasn’t happy with. When the men heard the gnashing of the Master’s teeth, they never knew whether it was a sign of pain or dissatisfaction. The work, despite all the tension, proceeded very well. There was a young fellow who masterfully painted domestic animals. He was a farm-boy-turned painter, lived all his life among oxen, cows, sheep, horses and donkeys. Now he had the chance to paint them. He also knew where to put the dung on the picture. Master Cornelis chuckled as he saw it, “The Mayor can smell it all right,” - he said to himself. It was just a few days before the Christmas Day deadline. The particular day’s assignment was the lighting effect in the stable. The staff painter had several ideas how to do it. He sat the lamp on a cross-beam, but no, why should there be a cross-beam in a stable which was a cave in a rock? Hang it on top of the manger? Put it on a shelf, lay it on a table? None of the ideas were good. The fellow finally realized that the trouble was with the light ’s intensity. If he made it bright enough, so everything in the stable could be seen, the situation became unreal because there could be no such bright light in that stable. Then, if he painted it as it could have been, most of the stable would be left in dark, no distinguishable features at all. Yet, he was told to paint realistically. So he painted the lamp above the manger, a flickering yellow-reddish flame, shedding hardly any light. The man knew that the whole effect was wrong. At the end of the day, when the Master came to inspect the day’s work, the fellow began to apologize in despair: “Forgive me, Master Cornelis, I failed you miserably. I am a nothing, I have no talent, I am not worthy to work in your honorable studio. Just let me go.” Master Cornelis studied the picture while the man was talking. “Oh, shut up, Philipp. You are a fine painter. However, you are right. This is no good. Not at all. But it is not your fault. I have to think of something. Leave it alone now. We will do it in the morning. We still have one day left.” As the lights were put out in his bed-chamber, he could not fall asleep. There he was, lying in the dark with eyes open. ‘The day after tomorrow, the Baby Jesus will be born and the picture that will commemorate worthily his birth, isn’t ready.’ He mumbled to himself: ‘The light. The light on the picture. ’ What a beautiful baby Jesusmust have been. Of course, every baby is beautiful in the eyes of those who love it. He remembered his first child more than thirty years earlier. How beautiful it was. They called the child sunshine because the child’s face was like the smiling sunshine. The sunshine - the face! Master Cornelis jumped out from his bed and no caring about his pain, he hobbled into the studio. It was bitter cold but he didn’t care. With shaking hands he lit a lamp, seized a brush and attacked the picture with the fever of creation. He touched the face of the Baby Jesus with white and gold and yellow and pink, so it became the source of shining light in the stable. ‘ Baby Jesus - light of the stable, Christ Jesus - light of the world. ’ Master Cornelis mumbled to himself. Then he hobbled back to his bed-chamber. He was happy and content. He was ready for Christmas Day. Andrew Harsanyi ZOLTÁN BAY (1900 - 1992) Zoltán Bay, one of the greatest physicists of this century, died on October 4, 1992, in Chevy Chase, Maryland. He began his studies in the Reformed College of Debrecen, earning a Ph.D. in physics from the Pázmány Peter University in Budapest. This was followed by four years of research study in Berlin. His first major research accomplishment dates from this time: proving that active nitrogen gas contains free nitrogen atoms. He began his teaching career in 1930 at the University of Szeged. From 1937 to 1948 he taught at the Department of Atomic Physics at the University of Technical Sciences in Budapest. His experiments with reflected microwaves from the Moon in 1946, mark the beginning of radar astronomy as man’s first contact with outer space. In 1948, after the communist takeover in Hungary, to avoid persecution by the communists, Zoltán Bay fled the country with his family to the United States. Here, he pursued a non-stop life of teaching and research until the very end of his life. He was a research professor of physics at the George Washington University in Washington, D.C., then from 1955 to 1972 he worked as an independent research director at the National Bureau of Standards where his last achievement was the establishment of the new timelength measurement system. After his official retirement, he continued his research in the field of theoretical physics at the American University in Washington, D.C. Zoltán Bay was the author of a great book, Life is Stronger. It tells, among other events, his fight to save the great electric and electronics Tungsram Company from the destruction by Russian soldiers, also saving many of his Jewish colleagues. The book was written in 1950 but was not published until after communism collapsed in 1991. Zoltán Bay was a faithful Calvinist and was a member of the Hungarian Reformed congregation of Washington, D C. He is survived by his wife Julia, his son Zoltán and his daughter, Julia. The Hungarian community of the world gratefully remembers an outstanding scientist and a kind man. Andrew Harsanyi
