Hungary

Today is always the hardest and the easiest day in M travel. It is the day for transition. A change from the laid back nature of a nominally Islamic culture to the hustle and bustle of an early morning European rush hour. We move into the fold of the former Roman Empire – a world where Christianity probably existed once… in about 325 AD. Since then, the people have been stuck with just one religious group after another.

We arrived in Budapest before 6am, stashed our bags in left luggage, and went to find coffee. It was a rude awakening to have such bitter winter temperatures after the Balkan’s beautiful March sunshine. The city is grey… as far as the eye can see… from the architecture to the water flowing in the Danube. Everyone is clothed in dark colors aside from the gypsies selling flowers along the streets. We stopped in at a McCafe to get a sense of schedule and to hear devotions. We spent some time praying for one another and then set out to sight see and find a bit of breakfast. Apparently no one in Budapest eats before 7pm, and there was a lot of squirrelly wandering and unpleasant discussion before we all found a place to stop. Why does food have such a power to divide people? We’ve had pizza and McDonalds for a lot of meals – it makes me laugh.

We walked up to the castle to view the city. There were several men dressed in medieval regalia (for the sake of the tourists), and there was a falcon trained for pictures and the like. It was hilarious to watch all the faces of the Japanese students react to these men.
The view from the castle was beautiful – mist rose up from the river masking some of the busyness of the city. It is a mystical feeling – like time and space fuse into one. If you close your eyes you can hear the sounds of hoof beats and the arrival of the Ottoman Empire. The great blue river – home to ships and ships of foreign invaders and curious explorers.

The sun came out as we walked and it warmed up a bit – not much, but still. We were asked to lead around the city, so we gave everyone options in terms of what touristy things that they might like to do. There is a museum of Hungarian ethnography that would have been fascinating, but we only really had time to choose one sight, so we opted for the Holocaust museum. It was interesting to learn that of all the prisoners in Auschwitz, one in ten was either Hungarian or a Romany Gypsy. I chose to wait with Stephanie in a local café rather than see the exhibit (too personal), but it was good to hear about what everyone learned.

Impressions.
Thoughts on compassion.
Jesus looked out among the crowds and he felt for them. In other words, He saw their need and his heart broke inside of Him – on their behalf. As I said before, the city is grey. The people seem grey – burdened with an internal sadness that I cannot comprehend. As we walked across the chain bridge from Buda into Pest, I noticed a gypsy woman kneeling beneath the pylons. Her head was bowed, covered over with a scarf. A blindfold for others and a protective guard for herself. No one really sees her and she doesn't have to reveal her black heart to the world. She can hide her pain and hunger. She does not have to expose her desperate need. There is comfort hiding behind the veil… never meeting other people’s eyes. She begs for money. Perhaps professionally. Still, there is an open question in her outstretched hand. It keeps people out while pleading with them to notice her. Most people walk by – they either do not see her at all or they glare down with contempt.
“How dare you ask me to give you any of my hard-earned god?”
“How dare you openly show me your need and ask me to do something about it?”
“How dare you enter my space and ask me to feel something?”
I find this Western concept of personal space interesting. We are so focused on our own little area of life that we are quick to shut others out. It is this juxtaposition of “know me” and “stay away” that is so bizarre. The beggar woman on the bridge.

We encountered a similar woman on the metro. She looked like she had just been released from a concentration camp. Her hair was matted and choppy, like she had tried to shave it herself. She was dressed in rags underneath her baggy coat. She took an extremely long time to sit down, since her body shook constantly (as if she suffered from palsy). As soon as she sat, people moved away from her. She whispered to herself, glaring askance at the surrounding crowds. Some people looked away – others stared. We seemed to follow her for several blocks, because she got off the train and happened to be headed in the same direction we were. Every once in a while, she would stop and scream accusations at nothing. It was obvious that she was mentally disturbed. I wonder when someone last reached out and touched her. I wonder how long she has suffered from this dementia and what phantoms mock her within her own thoughts. I wonder the fears that plague her mind – things I cannot begin to imagine….
She walks through this alone.

A man falls down the metro stairs and the crowds rush by too busy to notice or to help.
Women sell flowers on the street because this is the only way they can feed their families.
Old men loiter on the corners not knowing what to do with their time.
These people. These are the souls that Jesus had compassion for. They moved his heart to action. How do I show these people that same heart? Is it enough that I noticed them? What does it look like to answer the cry of the beggar woman, to touch the hand of the deranged, to give hope to the blind, deaf, dying, and lonely of Budapest?

We caught the train to Tatabanya and Matt and Zoltan met us on the platform. We walked to the little church and met for their Wednesday prayer fellowship. Jani, the pastor, leads worship there and we were able to join in singing both in Hungarian and in English praise. It is such a joy for me to hear God glorified in many languages – it reminds me of Home. Matt shared his testimony and then frank taught. We got to meet many of the church members and then we gathered so that Matthew could explain a bit about the rest of the week.

We are staying in a ruined medieval castle, high on a hill in the middle of nowhere. I like it.

What lies ahead? What souls will we meet? Will we see them, or will they simply be passengers on a train? We all make choices. Father give us compassion.