“I am blessed in that my soul remains youthful.” – Father Fülöp, missionary of Belgian origin

It is a real experience to talk with Father Fülöp. He is so straightforward, free of all kinds of trappings. He is equally sincere in revealing his somewhat clouded childhood and the slow realization of his true vocation.

“I was born in Brussels after the Second World War. My mother was English. During the war my father served as a pilot in the Royal Air Force. My parents divorced after my birth, I was placed in an institution just outside Brussels, where Benedictine nuns brought up poor children. There were a few children of Hungarian origin there, for example, my first friend, Béla Váczi. The nuns were very strict. Every morning we had to attend mass in complete silence; I didn’t understand a word because it was recited in Latin, but I prayed with all my heart. Each Saturday we watched films on African and South American missions during religious education. I, too, wanted to go there as a missionary.

“I contracted pneumonia when I was 12. I remember it was deep winter, icy cold, the doctor called the ambulance but they could not come so the fire brigade came out instead. They thought that I would die.

“I was taken to a clinic in Switzerland where I was ill for a year and only slowly recovered. After one year I was sent back to Brussels and after finishing primary school I wanted to continue my studies at the Don Bosco school but my parents did not allow me to do that because of their profession, since only poor children attended that school. Later on, I met my father in person only once. I was praying to get to know him and that he would be converted. Then once in Brussels my father’s friend visited me with the message that my father was critically ill and he wanted to meet me before he passed away. I went to see him, he begged my forgiveness, and he died a convert.
“At college I studied to be a male nurse and I worked in a hospital named after St. Elizabeth of the House of Árpád. In Brussels, there was a monastery of the Servite Order close to where I lived and this where I met Brother Peregrin, the cook. He was an ideal for me because he helped the beggars who came to eat at the monastery. Once, I asked his advice about what God wanted of me.

“He replied: ‘God called you in your childhood and now he is calling you to enter the Servite Order’.

“I left the hospital and joined the Servites. I spent two years with my superior in Canada and then I studied theology in Rome. There, one of my most beautiful memories was when I met Pope John Paul II by accident in the street. He was praying in the synagogue where, in the huge crowd, I only saw him on the projection screen. Afterwards, his car stopped beside me at the crossroads. He looked at me and smiled.
After theology studies, I went back to the monastery in Brussels as a monk but I continued to work in the hospital. I thought I could be more simple this way than as a priest. The hospital director asked me to work in the psychiatry ward and in the meantime I studied psychology. I adored this work. The other nurses had families, they hurried back home after work, but I was alone so I was able to help the patients. I spent much time talking to young people who were troubled about what they would do with their lives after completing school. This is when I learnt that one has to stay calm in all situations and the most important thing for the other person is to be understanding of him or her. These experiences help me in the confessional box as well.
“At that time I felt that I would always remain a male nurse because I was not worthy to be a priest. However, one day the provincial superior asked me whether I would like to be a priest. Since this was my wish from childhood, I accepted and I was ordained.

“Before ordination, the father general asked me whether I would go to Hungary with two of my other brothers. I was delighted to agree to this, thus another of my childhood wishes was fulfilled, to be a missionary.”

Father Fülöp arrived in Eger 28 years ago. He was extraordinary, it was simply impossible not to love him. He struggled with the Hungarian language for a long time but everybody understood him as he waved his hands about, used sign language and a good deal of humour. He found a place in everyone’s heart. He lived amongst us as somebody always at our disposal, whether it was for a chat, a campfire, an excursion or football. He spoke more of God with his presence and modesty than with his words.

“When I arrived in Eger, I immediately found my place. Father Gyula Balog was at that time the parish priest of the Servite church, an open person we worked together with in ministering to the young. Since I couldn’t speak the language, young people taught me to speak. It felt really great when one Friday I held my first mass in Hungarian, sweating buckets, and at the end the young people came into the sacristy, clapped and told me that they didn’t understand much but what I said came from the heart.”

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In the meantime, his provincial superior called Father Fülöp back to Brussels to help the life of the community there with his work. But his heart drew him back to Hungary.

“For me, the return was nostalgia, I requested it. They offered me the choice: Rome or Eger. I chose the latter. By the time I first came to Hungary, communism was dead and a new soul lived in the people. Everybody was delighted, I felt happy here amongst the young people, that is why I always longed to return.”

Last year, Father Fülöp celebrated his 70th birthday but he remains just as active as 28 years ago. He cannot rest, he so loves being among people. He undertakes everything that connects him to children and youth. He resolutely rides his bike between destinations, and if he is on foot, he walks with his dog.

“At the moment I am a chaplain in the church of the St. John Paul II Mission Centre, where I always recall my meeting with the Holy Father on the street. When I read about the life of Don Bosco, I longed to give to children in the same way he did. In the institution where I spent my childhood, the nuns treated us very strictly and the priests could not play with us either before the Second Vatican Council. This changed later since Pope John XXIII brought a new mentality into the church, so now I can play with the children as I wished to at that time. This wish was also met because the Don Bosco sisters invited me to help in the Oratorium, where they deal with children every Saturday afternoon in the summer. Beside this, I celebrate mass at the Ursulines hall of residence every week and I help young people find God who is so close to us. We have our common contemplations and celebrations. I am not only present in their life as a priest but if needed, I take them presents in a sack as Santa Claus. In summer we have a camp with the Gypsy children from Kerecsend, which is also a great experience.

“The true priest is a shepherd – I don’t have my own children but everybody is my child. During the quarantine and online teaching, I am here as the father without children. But I am always here if there is need for help or a chat.

“At one time I learnt from the catechism that the symbol of Christians is the cross, but I always added to myself: and love. I try to do with love what Jesus has asked of me, that we should be his witnesses everywhere. I can never forget the example of Brother Peregrin, who was like a father to me. I didn’t have a home and I know what children in a similar position really miss. I like helping young people and they are happy to talk with me. Jesus teaches us simply to preach the word. When I was ordained my friends told me to remain modest: they said, ‘this is how we love you’. Once, when I was cycling to mass, somebody asked me why I didn’t use the car. If others can walk, I will not drive by car because I am not a lord.
“My dog, Lady, is an Akita, a Japanese sheepdog, who was gifted to me eight years ago. She is a cheerful animal, we spend a lot of time walking together. Sometimes we both climb Eged Hill. I read that on 8 September, on the birthday of the Virgin Mary, one has to pray turning towards the sun. This is when we walk up to Eged at sunrise and pray together.
“When I had pneumonia and was ill for a year, the doctors told me that I should always play sports, go scouting, camping, and then there would be no problem. This is how I live and I feel good. I am blessed in that my soul remains youthful.”