"Partners in Faith: A
Transylvanian Experience"
A sermon by Rev. Charles Blustein Ortman
September 28, 2008
READINGS ANCIENT AND MODERN:
Our ancient reading is an adaptation from the Hebrew Book of
Isaiah:
A highway shall be there,
and it shall be called the Holy Way;
…it shall be for God's people;
no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray.
No lion shall be there,
nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it;
they shall not be found there,
but the redeemed shall walk there.
[and] everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
they shall obtain joy and gladness,
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.
Our modern reading is from the person widely known as the Father
of Unitarianism in Transylvania, Francis Dávid.
"In this world there have always been many opinions about faith
and salvation.
You need not think alike to love alike.
There must be knowledge in faith also.
Sanctified reason is the lantern of faith.
Religious reform can never be all at once, but gradually, step by
step.
If they offer something better, I will gladly learn.
The most important spiritual function is conscience, the source
of all spiritual joy and happiness.
Conscience will not be quieted by anything less than truth and justice.
We must accept God's truth in this lifetime.
Salvation must be accomplished here on earth.
God is indivisible.
Egy Az Isten.
God is one."
SERMON:
Robert Louis Stevenson once wrote, "We are all travelers
in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our
travels is an honest friend." I have had the great fortune,
through this summer's travels on the Partner Church pilgrimage,
to make several good and honest friends. Some of them are here this
morning singing in the choir and I want to thank them for the experience
of a lifetime in our travels, for being here this morning to sing
for us, and for bringing more of their friends along to sing for
us, too. It is so fine to make new friends!
What I'd like to accomplish this morning, is to provide you with
some snapshots, to share something of the experience of our travels,
at least from my perspective, in the hope that we can generate some
enthusiasm for a renewal of our relationship with our Partner Con-gregation
in Szentabraham, Transylvania. The folks in Summit have a most engaged
re-lationship with their partners in Barot, and this trip has opened
my eyes to some great possibilities for us. That's why I'm so glad
that our new friends have agreed to meet and greet you in the Alliance
Room after the service.
And, by the way, we already have a financial contribution for our
Partner Church set aside in our annual budget. So, we're not talking
about money, this morning. We're talking about connecting more deeply
with some folks, halfway around the world, folks who are already
our partners, with whom we share a religious heritage and tradition.
How rich and rare is that!
Before I get into my picture album though, there were a couple
of questions I had before the trip about some political and theological
things I had a hard time understanding. I thought it might be helpful
to address them here. The first one is regarding political boundaries.
It seemed to me that Transylvania, Romania and Hungary were names
of countries that for some reason seemed to be used interchangeably.
So, here's the scoop. Transylvania was once a nation that was a
part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Today, Transylvania is the
largest of five counties that make up the country of Romania. It
is actually larger than the other four combined. Many, if not most
Transylvanians, are less than thrilled to be a part of Romania.
That animosity is largely reciprocated. But that's how things worked
out in the divisions that were made after World War I, and that's
how they remain today. The Transylvanians maintain a strong Hungarian
ethnic identity including the use of language, dress, food and so
on.
The country Hungary is the largest remnant of the Austro-Hungarian
Empire. In a recent referendum, its citizens made clear that they
don't want to assume Transylvania or Tran-sylvanians into their
nationhood, as that might cause a glut on the Hungarian labor market.
The rejection was something of a bitter pill for the Transylvanians
to swallow.
My other question was theological. Our Transylvanian partners embrace
the brotherhood and the teachings of Jesus as central to their belief
system. American Unitarian Universalists embrace the principle of
freedom of conscience so adamantly that we are willing to consider
the thought that the great mystery underlying this universe can
as reasonably be thought of as "God" just as well as it
might be thought of as "not God." So, how can we say that
we are of the same faith tradition?
We have to look deeply to see the underpinnings of our common foundation.
Listen again to these words of Francis Davíd. If you must,
please substitute the words "not God" for "God."
I can find no better articulation of our common heritage.
"In this world there have always been many opinions about
faith and salvation.
You need not think alike to love alike.
There must be knowledge in faith also.
Sanctified reason is the lantern of faith…
The most important spiritual function is conscience, the source
of all spiritual joy and happiness.
Conscience will not be quieted by anything less than truth and
justice…
Salvation must be accomplished here on Earth...
Egy Az Isten.
God is one."
Do we believe exactly the same? No, but neither do those of us
who are gathered in this room. We need not think alike to love alike!
We are equally dedicated though, on both sides of the Atlantic,
to religious principles that are peculiar to this faith tradition
that we share: freedom of conscience, religious tolerance, and the
use of reason in religious matters.
Now, on to the snapshots of our pilgrimage… There are a number
of lingering images that are quite precious. Some of the snapshots
include singing with a choir that loved to sing, and sing we did
- from a concert at a large Unitarian church packed by townspeople
on a warm summer evening, to an impromptu presentation at a German
Fortified church on sunny afternoon. Another is of strolling up
a wooded, mountain path to tour the summer palace of King Carol
I. The hike was made enchanted by an old gypsy playing a pan flute
that filled the woods with a mystical, wistful melody. In so many
of my memories there are images of our tour guides, the brother/sister
combination of Robbie and Kate Balent. Their facility in tending
to all of our varied needs was characterized by unwaver-ing graciousness,
warmth and humor. I have so many memories of our shared laughter,
on the bus and everywhere else we went. And I can't forget the 91
year old retired Unitarian minister in Varygas, who looked and sounded
much how I'd imagine the ancient prophet Isaiah, himself.
Our stay in the small town of Barot was splendid. This is the home
of the Summit Con-gregation's Partner Church. We stayed there for
four nights. My sermon last week came out of one experience there,
but there were so many others. Arriving on our bus at suppertime,
greeted by Alpar Kiss, the minister (who by the way, sends his greetings
to all of us here this morning through Jean Crichton, our faithful
tour coordinator) greeted by Alpar and a throng of members from
the congregation. We were portioned out to our host families, who
would provide us with a place to sleep and breakfast over the next
several the days. The rest of our time in Barot, we would be otherwise
occupied with singing, or touring, or drinking Ciuc Beer in the
local cantina, or whatever.
I was sent off with my host, Margrit, a woman about my age. We
were driven to her home, a very modest fourth floor walkup, just
a few blocks away. There, I met Margrit's husband, István.
At once, I knew I was in for a special and unique experience. István,
who was mostly confined to bed or his wheelchair, had suffered a
stroke five years earlier. Margrit, who had been a nurse, took early
retirement in order to care for him. The amount of love that filled
their simple apartment, love they had for one another and for their
two sons who were away at university, was palpable. Oh, and I forgot
to mention, neither of them spoke more English than I do Hungarian,
which was pretty much limited to good morning, good night, please
and thank you.
Still, each morning, Margrit would eat with István in his
room and then provide a lovely breakfast for me, way more than I
could ever eat. The kitchen table was arrayed with two tablecloths,
one that was always in place, and another, beautifully woven and
embroidered, that she spread in front of my place at the table.
We would sit and talk - or try to talk - using Hungarian, English,
Romanian, Yiddish, Spanish and German words. So, we didn't talk
much, but the communication was still very rich. Photo albums can
be very helpful.
On our last morning there, I arranged for faithful Kate Balent
to join us, so that we could actually speak through an interpreter.
We exchanged symbolic gifts, told stories, and explained many things
we had tried to say on the earlier days. I learned that the second
tablecloth was one that had been handmade for Margrit by her mother
as a wedding gift; it was used, "…only for the most special
occasions." We laughed and cried and hugged many times. It's
difficult to express what transpired in my visit with Margrit and
István, but it had surely been something very meaningful.
Strangers in intimate proximity, opening their lives to one another,
communicating in ways unfamiliar to any of us. It's a memory that
will remain a part of my life.
Also while in Barot, there were many musical performances. On Sunday
morning, we sang for the worship service. All of our hosts were
so proud of their guest celebrities. Later that afternoon, there
was a Hungarian-style barbecue. The food and beer were great, and
the entertainment was unforgettable. There was a marching band,
six brigades of baton twirlers and four troops of traditional dancers.
The mayor spoke to welcome us and there were several choral group
performances made by choirs, as well as a number of soloists.
I was touched by a couple of young girls who performed solos, playing
piano and sang traditional songs, quite beautifully. I found myself
standing in the churchyard with Robbie and Kate as we listened to
these girls sing. I would ask with each song, "What's the song
about? What are the words?"
"Well," Robbie would say for nearly every song, "this
is a very sad song. Someone has been left by a lover….Well,
someone's parent or sweetheart has died… Well, someone has
lost all their possessions. We are often a very sad people,"
Robbie commented. "We feel at home when we sing about sad things,"
How gloomy, I thought. It was only later when I recognized that
the tragic themes he had listed, read like the Top 20 charts of
our own country/western music stations. We really aren't all that
different.
The barbecue ended late in the evening with an impromptu international
sing-along with about 30 of us standing in a circle in the church
yard - singing away, with a cup of Ciuc in hand. It was a joyful
experience of UNITY.
Moving on to another set of pictures, we come to a most amazing
event! Our tour hap-pened to be in Transylvania for the Annual World
Gathering of Unitarians which was celebrating the 440th anniversary
of the birth of Unitarianism, of Francis Davíd standing on
"the rock" in Torda declaring, "Egy Az Isten."
I was invited to process with the clergy and then to give greetings
to the gathering on be-half of the Unitarian Universalist Association
of America. Let me fill in some of this picture for you. An estimated
4,000 Unitarians gathered out in a very rural location. A huge field
and hillside were blanketed with people from towns and countries,
near and far. At the edge of the field was an enormous stage, large
enough to seat the scores of clergy who were part of the proceedings.
Just prior to the processional, I was introduced by Robbie to the
Unitarian Bishop of Transylvania, who was just the nicest guy, with
the most excellent shock of white hair. We bonded very easily!
The procession itself was quite a religious experience for me.
There was a seemingly endless stream, row after row, of colleagues
in traditional dress. We made our way on a path through the crowds,
around the perimeter of the field, along the foot of the hillside
in the blazing summer sun. We were preceded by a marching band,
composed mostly of brass and drums; they made a large and full sound.
The band was preceded by a regiment of horsemen; with banners unfurled,
who provided an appearance of something between a regal march and
a rodeo parade. It really was spectacular! As I moved along through
this magical procession, amid the blare of the horns and drums,
amid orders to the horsemen, amid the thousands of people, I had
the most satisfying feeling that, even in this extraordinary and
unfamiliar experience, I belonged right where I was. These were
my people and I was theirs. There we all were, living in the first
three syllables of our shared name - we were in UNITY as Unitarians.
That I'd been invited to address the assembly, that I got to sit
with my friend Robbie, the Bishop and the other clergy on the dais,
looking out across the landscape of Unitarians, well, that was just
icing on the cake. And after that ceremonial event ended, I got
to join my other friends from Summit, back on the stage, and once
again we sang. It was quite a day!
That weekend was rounded by a visit to our own Partner Church in
the very small town of Szentabraham. I was a guest in the home of
their new minister István Iberie (who is 33 and whose energy
level I only wish I had half of), his wife Anüka, and their
four year old son, Tomas. Even though their house was across the
road and two doors down from it, their home was very much an extension
of the church. Their gracious hospitality toward me was beyond nearly
anything I've ever experienced. On top of that, on Sunday they served
the whole lot of us, well over 30 at this juncture, a lavish meal
in their dining room and sprawling out onto the front porch. The
homemade lunch had been prepared that morning and most of the day
before, by Anüka, her mother, her sister and her brother-in-law.
It was fabulous!
István arranged the opportunity for me to visit Danis and
Eva Jacob in their new home. Danis is the retired minister of Szentabraham.
Some of you will remember them from their visit here in 1998. István
and I also had several opportunities to talk about things - the
challenging life of a young, new minister, serving in a culture
where things do not change so easily. We talked about our partnership
and about possibilities and hopes for our future collaborations
that we might embark upon. One of István's ideas that I like
very much was that maybe we could send and they could host a youth
group tour, so that some of our teens could get a chance to experience
the world in a very different way. We reaffirmed our personal partnership
as well as the partnership of our congregations. The door is open,
my friends, and we have been invited.
I brought greetings from you and preached the sermon at the service
there on Sunday morning from the lofty perch of the pulpit, located
traditionally, high up on the wall. István read the translation
from the floor. The organist led the death-defyingly slow hymns
on perhaps the worst sounding organ I have ever heard in my life.
And again, there was a feeling, awkward though it sometimes was,
of the UNITY that we shared with these rural, unfamiliar Unitarians.
We are a part of all that is!
As the service came to an end, gifts were exchanged. I'd brought
a number of presents on your behalf. Among those were some of the
little dolls made by our own Doris Williams. I presented them to
the Church for its kindergarten program, saying the children would
grow up with our love sewn into those dolls by Doris' stitching.
István presented a gift to us of a wood carving of the Transylvanian
Unitarian symbol. He asked that we place it somewhere to help us
remember our partners regularly.
After the gifts, the choir performed our very last performance
of the trip for the people of Szentabraham. It was a touching moment.
Toward the end of our program, as we often had, we sang, "T'filat
HaDerech" or "The Traveler's Prayer." Mitchell Vines
invited me to explain that we were singing the song as a prayer
for all of us - as we are all travelers on this Earth, all pilgrims
on a journey - a prayer that we might be blessed as we go on our
ways, on those journeys… (Here, the choir sings the first part
of "T'filat HaDerech," by Debbie Friedman.)
(Here the piano continues playing as backdrop to the these spoken
words.) As we sang, I looked around the room at the people of Szentabraham.
We had only just arrived, it seemed, and so soon we would be leaving
them. My eyes met those of my partner, István, and we exchanged
a warm smile. I looked to my left into the faces of the congregation's
President and of the men and boys dressed in their Sunday finest,
attire that could not belie their work-hardened faces, shoulders
and hands.
As my vision panned to the right, there were the women, who for
the most part could have been from any of the last several centuries.
The older ones had such deep, wise eyes. And then far to my right,
near the wall, I saw Anüka, the bright, gracious, young wife
of the minister. She sat listening to the song, with tears streaming
down her cheeks, as we sang, "…may grace and compassion
find their way to every soul…"
I choked back my own tears, and knew that something very good,
something important, something of momentous UNITY was at hand, and
was holding us together there. We were on - we are on - something
like what Isaiah called, "The Holy Way." (Here, the choir
sings all of "T'filat HaDerech.")
This trip has opened my eyes, and now I hope yours too, to some
great possibilities in store for us. The door is open, my friends,
and we have been invited.
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