Magyar Egyház, 2004 (83. évfolyam, 1-4. szám)
2004-01-01 / 1. szám
MAGYAR EGYHÁZ 9. oldal “THE INTERVIEW WITH GOD” I dreamed I had an interview with God. “So you would like to interview me ?” God asked. “If you have the time” I said. God smiled. “My time is eternity.” “What questions do you have in mind for me?” “What surprises you most about humankind?” God answered...“That they get bored with childhood, they rush to grow up, and then long to be children again.” “That they lose their health to make money... and then lose their money to restore their health.” “That by thinking anxiously about the future, they forget the present, such that they live in neither the present or the future.” “That they live as if they will never die, and die as though they had never lived.” God’s hand took mine and we were silent for a while. And then 1 asked... “As a parent, what are some of life’s lessons you want your children to learn?” “To leam they cannot make anyone love them. All they can do is let themselves be loved.” “To leam that it is not good to compare themselves to others.” “To leam to forgive by practicing forgiveness.” “To leam that it only takes a few seconds to open profound wounds in those they love, and it can take many years to heal them.” “To leam that a rich person is not one who has the most, but is one who needs the least.” “To leam that there are people who love them dearly, but simply have not yet learned how to express or show their feelings.” “To leam that two people can look at the same thing and see it differently.” “To leam that it is not enough that they forgive one another, but they must also forgive themselves.” "Thank you for your time," I said humbly. "Is there anything else you would like your children to know?" God smiled and said, “Just know that I am here... always.” - Author unknown Chinese Fable A water bearer in China had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck. One pot had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After 2 years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream... "1 am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house." The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I planted flower seeds on your side of the path. Every day while we walk back, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house." Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You've just got to take each person for what they are, and look for the good in them. Blessings to all my crackpot friends and relatives. Subject: USA We rarely get a chance to see another country's editorial about the USA. Read this excerpt from a Romanian Newspaper. The article was written by Mr. Cornel Nistorescu and published under the title "C'ntarea Americii meaning "Ode To America") on September 24, 2002 in the Romanian newspaper Evenimentulzilei ("The Daily Event" or "News of the Day"). An Ode to America. Why are Americans so united? They would not resemble one another even if you painted them all one color ! They speak all the languages of the world and form an astonishing mixture of civilizations and religious beliefs. Still, the American tragedy turned three hundred million people into a hand put on the heart. Nobody rushed to accuse the White House, the army, and the secret services that they are only a bunch of losers. Nobody rushed to empty their bank accounts. Nobody rushed out onto the streets nearby to gape about. The Americans volunteered to donate blood and to give a helping hand. After the first moments of panic, they raised their flag over the smoking ruins, putting on T-shirts, caps and ties in the colors of the national flag. They placed flags on buildings and cars as if in every place and on every car a government official or the president was passing. On every occasion, they started singing their traditional song: "God Bless America!" I watched the live broadcast and rerun after rerun for hours listening to the story of the guy who went down one hundred floors with a woman in a wheelchair without knowing who she was, or of the Californian hockey player, who gave his life fighting with the terrorists and prevented the plane from hitting a target that could have killed other hundreds or thousands of people. How on earth were they able to respond united as one human being? Imperceptibly, with every word and musical note, the memory of some turned into a modem myth of tragic heroes. And with every phone call, millions and millions of dollars were put in a collection aimed at rewarding not a man or a family, but a spirit, which no money can buy. What on earth can unite the Americans in such a way? Their land? Their galloping history? Their economic power? Money? I tried for hours to find an answer, humming songs and murmuring phrases with the risk of sounding commonplace. I thought things over, but I reached only one conclusion. .. Only freedom can work such miracles.
