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Dear Westminster Church Family and Friends,


Hope my letter finds you well!


Last week, my parents and I visited a place called the “1000-year Border” at Gyímes (marked in red on the first map below), and I'd like to share about this trip with you today.


Gyímes on the easter border of Transylvania

The Carpathian Mountains in Romania

My hometown - Odorheiu Secuiesc/Székelyudvarhely

Within Romania, the Carpathians forms an inverted “C” and the territory it embraces is known as Transylvania (map 2). The region where I grew up is located somewhere near the middle point of the inverted “C,” as indicated by the red arrow on the third map below.

The Gyímes area constituted the borderlands of Royal Hungary until the end of WWII. In the photograph with my family, you can see the little train station with the red roof behind us in the distance. This station marked the last stop of the train in Royal Hungary. Beyond it began Romania proper, the region known as Moldova (not to be confused with the country Moldavia further east).

This spruce-covered mountainous region interspersed with quaint villages tucked along the serpentine roads has been a meeting place of cultures and languages, of diverse ethnic groups. Perhaps “meeting place” does not do justice to the history of this area for the encounters between people from various ethnic groups have not always been friendly “meetings.”


This region saw Tartar invasions in the 13th century, the threat of the Ottomans in mid 16th century, and the Hapsburg rule (1867–1944). At the end of WWII, Transylvania, including this border region, was permanently annexed to Romania.

Beyond the breathtaking scenery, a highlight of the trip for me was encountering retired high-school teacher and writer, and amateur ethnographer András Deáky in Gyímesbükk. A longtime friend of my dad, Deáky lives in this village near to this 1000-year border, the furthest to the east out of the 3-village unit in the Gyímes valley.


Deáky dedicated his life to furthering Hungarian education—the teaching of the Hungarian language and culture in Gyímesbükk from the moment he received his teaching degree specializing in Hungarian and Romanian literature. When he returned to his native village in 1966, he found that Hungarian education completely disappeared, even though most people living in the village are still from Hungarian background. Deáky told me that this was the result of a systemic effort of intimidation and suppression of Hungarian culture by the Romanian Communist government. Hungarian parents were harassed and intimidated, even threatened with forced labor at the Danube channel (channel connecting the Romanian capital Bucharest with the Danube River, built in the 60s) if they were to enroll their children into Hungarian classes.


Deáky was only allowed to teach Romanian language and literature at the school. He could only offer Hungarian lessons in private. His lessons became very popular, and he was elected principal of the school after mere 3 years of teaching, bringing the ire of the secret service upon himself. They prevented him from getting his final teacher certification, demoted him from the role of principal, eventually prohibiting him from teaching even Romanian literature.


Never one for accepting defeat, Deáky enrolled in night classes, and received another teaching degree, this time specializing in German and Hungarian literature. He began teaching German.


He says that when the authorities could no longer find fault with his teaching work, they promoted him out of the role of a teacher. He had the choice between becoming the director of cultural programs or the leader of the “Pioneers”—the organization of young scouts meant to prepare young people for service in the communist party. He chose the latter because he was certain that “cultural programs” meant spreading party propaganda. Deáky thought that working with young people even under the eager eyes of the state still allowed him to inspire them and help them to think critically about the things of the world and learn ethical values that aided them to become descent human beings.


Deáky’s stories touched a chord in me for I recalled my own experiences of being prohibited from studying in my mother tongue from one day to another during the 3rd year of high school. I also remembered how carefully we had to handle certain books that were on the list of banned books, for as Deáky reminisced, people were called in for “conversation” with the secret police. If one was caught with “contraband,” there were consequences—harassment, fines, threats, loss of work opportunities, and more. Would you believe that the musical “Jesus Christ, Superstar” was on the banned list? What a thrill it was when my father brought home a copy of the album for us!


As I think of the banning of books in our country, in the US at present—books that present a fuller view of our history, of the cultures and stories erased, and as I observe the silencing of voices that call for solidarity with marginalized communities on college and university campuses across the nation, I find inspiration in Deáky’s stories and witness. His commitment and courage to resist challenge me, and I believe, challenge us to do the same in the face of forces that try to erase and dehumanize certain groups of people—those with whom we do not agree or do not like or fear.


Deáky mused to me: “I often wondered whether it made any sense to keep going, to hold on to hope, especially when everything just was seemingly falling apart, when there was no end to the struggle and neighbor turned on neighbor. But then I had this deep sense that this what I am here for. This is my place. This is my calling… that doing the right thing even in this small village in a hidden corner of the world is important. It makes a difference for the life of this community.”


When we returned home to my parents’ house, I found Deáky’s book titled Szemben az árral: Élet a Gyímesekben [Facing the Currents: Life in the Gyímes Valley] on their bookshelf in which he describes his philosophy of life, the principles that move him as he serves his community even now. He writes:


“Mutual respect can only happen when we live in such a way that we do not need to be ashamed of who we are [our ethnic background]…


Let us not listen to those who incite us against one another; let us offer the benefit of the doubt to each other, instead of hating one another on account of our ethnicity or political views. For while we fight each other and waste our energies on trying to destroy one another, those who incite us against each other will laugh at us, and greatly benefit from our divisions.


Only when we can do this, can we start on the journey that will benefit all in the long run. Let us not try then to change everybody into our own image!”


Deáky wonders, can we hope that one day this will be our reality – that all people will feel welcome in our world?


May it be so.

With my godson Balázs (20) and his sister Anna (16), two of my pastor cousin's children.

The youngest generation - my baby cousin's daughters Réka (1) and Ágnes (3).

On the Ferris wheel with my brother - treating my fear of heights... and enjoying the birds' eye view of the mountains.

Friends, I continue to hold you in my prayers and miss seeing you. It is hard to believe that just a little over two weeks are left from my time here. I treasure the time I have with family and friends - like gathering to celebrate my aunt's birthday with cousins and their children.


I am grateful for your support and care, and will be in touch again next week.


Until then,


Grace and peace,


Pastor Enikö


Westminster Presbyterian Church
353 East Pine Street Wooster, Ohio  330-263-2398