From woodcarving to church architecture

The historical region of Máramaros (Maramures) is a part of present-day Romania (Partium) and Ukraine ( Transcarpathia), named after the river Mara that flows through the region. Three-quarters of its territory is made up of mountain forests and pastures, and its most significant building material is wood, which has become important not only in everyday life but also in religious architecture. So it is not surprising that the tradition of building wooden churches dates back to the 16th century. 

The tradition of carpentry and woodcarving is still preserved today, and carving motifs such as the sun, moon, stars, or the cord are still found in churches. 

The Land of Wood churches

More than three hundred Orthodox and Greek Catholic wooden churches once dotted the Maramures countryside, but only ninety-three remain today. Eight of the listed buildings were declared World Heritage sites in 1999, thus making immortal the monuments of ecclesiastical and vernacular wooden architecture. The churches were typically built between the 17th and 19th centuries, mainly of oak and pine, and even the nails were made of wood, for lack of metal. 

Eight wood churches in Máramaros on the World Heritage List

Wood Church of the Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple, Barcánfalva (Bârsana)
Wood Church of Saint Nicholas, Budfalva (Budesti)
Wood Church of the Holy Piroska, Desze (Desesti)
Wood Church of the Holy Archangels, Dióshalom (Șurdești)
Wood Church of Nativity of the Virgin, Jód (Ieud)
Wood Church of Saint Michael and Gabriel, Nyárfás (Plopiș)
Wood Church of Saint Michael and Gabriel, Rogoz (Rogoz)
Wood Church of the Holy Piroska, Sajómező (Poienile Izei)

The timber-framed churches with their tall, thin bell towers and shingle-covered roofs bear the hallmarks of Mountain architecture, but they also show a synthesis of East and West: the Byzantine-style floor plan of the churches is matched by a Gothic form. This particular architectural solution is not the only reason for the World Heritage designation: the paintings on the church interiors are also of particular value.

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Photo: Profimedia - Red Dot

Without perspective 

"The inside of the church is stunning, with no perspective anywhere. The 18th-century painters of Máramaros did not really use perspective very much, instead they used the 2-dimensional drawing method that was known and widespread before the Renaissance. This means that these painted figures do not have a three-dimensional body, but only an outline and the elements of the scenes that should have been represented behind each other are here more than once on top of each other,' states an article in the Korunk Magazine  No. 2022/4 about the Orthodox Church of St. Piroska in Desze (Desesti), built in 1770, but the statement is true for all wooden churches in Máramaros region.
The colourful 1780s paintings of the building in Desze, framed with flowers by the painter Radu Munteanu, were discovered in the 1990s under a thick layer of soot on the wall.

Toader Hodor and Ion Plohod painted the Baroque-style murals of the Church of the Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple in Barcánfalva (Bârsana), which made the building a World Heritage Site. 

The wooden church, built in 1720, has had an adventurous fate, having been moved from its original site to the Iza River valley in 1739 and back sixty years later. 

The numbered wooden beams used for the rebuilding are a testament to this. The church was completely renovated in the early 1990s, when the village's new Orthodox religious centre, a monastery and a church were built, with a 62-metre-high wooden tower, now the second tallest in Europe.

The oldest ones

"The wooden church of Jód (Ieud), however, is a well-established, thousand-arched wonder, a visible symbol of the people's building spirit. Besides the rough, hard work of the earth and the forest, at least the little thing of beauty in the form of the house of the Lord shall be given to the earthly eye." – this is what in the 1990 issue of Harghita Népe, Zoltán Czegő wrote about the church of the Nativity of the Virgin, which according to some sources was already standing in the 14th century. However, recent research suggests that it was built in the 1610s, making it one of the oldest churches in Máramaros. Built of pine beams and with small windows, the interior walls are painted in full, and even the inside of the door is decorated with a picture of St Christopher, the patron saint of travellers.

In Budfalva (Budesti), not just one, but two churches were built in honour of St Nicholas, a hundred years apart. One of the oldest churches on the World Heritage List, known as a cathedral because of its size, has been standing in the centre of the village since 1643. At the beginning of the 20th century, women began to attend the liturgy, which involved enlarging the windows and cutting new openings in the wall, but the work also damaged several murals. 

Besides icons painted on centuries-old glass and wood, the church also houses relics such as the chainmail shirt and helmet of the famous local outlaw, the brave Pintye, and the flag of Ferenc Rákóczi II. 

The oldest of the wooden churches in Máramaros that have been awarded World Heritage status is the Church of St. Piroska in Sajómező (Poienile Izei), built in 1604. Saint Piroska, the daughter of King László, was one of the most revered empresses of the Byzantine Empire, and was canonised by the Orthodox Church, her cult being adopted by the Catholic Church.

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A mural in the church of St. Piroska in Desze (Desesti) - Photo: Profimedia - Red Dot

The glory of archangels

The Greek Catholic wood church in Dióshalom (Șurdești), built in 1721, was consecrated in honour of the Archangels St Michael and Gabriel. Its fifty-four-metre-high tower not only stands out from its immediate surroundings, but until the 1990s it was the tallest wooden church tower in Europe. Another special element of the building is the ladder in the entrance hall leading up to the gallery, carved from a single tree.

The church in Dióshalom (Șurdești) inspired the wooden church in Nyárfás (Plopiș), built seventy-five years later, with a tower of "only" forty-seven metres high, also dedicated to the archangels, as was the church of the Archangels St Michael and Gabriel in Rogoz. Burnt down during the Tatar invasion of 1661, it took two years to rebuild the building from elm. It underwent a complete renovation in 1717, and its interior paintings were done by Radu

This article was sponsored by the Carola Association.
 

Your home village is well known for its traditions. Did you absorb these local customs as a child?

Yes, you might say I was born into it. My parents encouraged and educated me on how to keep the traditions of Szék. They were the ones who introduced me to folk dancing and folk songs at a relatively early age. I started dancing when I was ten years old, my mother and father are folk dancers too.

I inherited most of my clothes from my mother, who also taught me how to sew. 

There was also a strong love of tradition in the village community. Whenever we went somewhere to perform with the dance group, it was always a special occasion, we enjoyed each other's company, and over the years we have developed close friendships. Although we no longer go to performances, there is still a good relationship between the members and we get together whenever we can.

The city of Kolozsvár (Cluj-Napoca) is 60 kilometers from Szék, you went to school there and that is where you work now.  What is your relationship with the city?

I currently live in Szék, from where I commute to work in Kolozsvár. Daily commuting is not my favourite thing, but I'm used to it. I don't like the hustle and bustle of the big city, even as a high school student I couldn't wait for the weekend to go home from Kolozsvár. Most of my friends stayed in the city, but I went straight to the station after the last class. I feel at home in Szék, I grew up here and I plan to live here. I am lucky because I married a man from the village who has the same plans. I like the fact that almost everyone knows everyone here, so it's a bit like living our lives together, rather than isolated like in a big city.

Community is also very much part of your work, as you work with students in the Mathias Corvinus Collegium team in Transylvania, organizing activities for them.

Yes, I really like working with the students, and being close to them. I have been working at MCC for almost three years and I am currently the Deputy Coordinator of the High School Program in Transylvania.

The best thing about my job, apart from the variety and dynamism, is that we work for a community. 

With our team, we are constantly striving to teach students new things and provide them with training that will help them get ahead in life. We strive to create opportunities where students from Cluj can get to know other students from Szeklerland, but also meet MCC students from Hungary.

Does this mean that education and talent management are close to your heart?

That's right, so much so that I can see myself working as a teacher in the future, which is why I'm currently a Maths student and in my spare time I help local students catch up in the subject. I was originally thinking about a career in civil engineering, but I realised that I wanted to live and work in a more interactive way, being around people. There, my job would have consisted of sitting in front of a computer and doing Maths.

To what extent has folk dance remained a part of your life?

We used to organize balls with the group that came together through dance years ago, but there are fewer and fewer of them now. However, we still celebrate the name days of the most popular names in the village: Márton, Pista, János and Zsuzsanna. On the name day of Zsuzsanna we have a big dance, it's an old tradition, as well as everyone dresses up in Szék folk costumes. In addition, the girls and women who bear the name Zsuzsanna prepare a treat. Around midnight, the men join together to sing a toast to Zsuzsanna, and then we, who have prepared some kind of cake, offer them a round of treats. Typically, we make funnel cakes, Zsuzsi-kifli and doughnuts.

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Photo: Anikó Moldvai

Did you meet your husband through the dance group?

No, he doesn't dance folk dance. I have known him for a long time, but we only noticed each other four years ago. Before the pandemic, we used to go down to the village center, what we call 'the market', to get together and talk, that's where it all started. Although he grew up in a family where keeping traditions was less of a priority, he was open to wearing Szék folk costumes at our wedding.

How did you prepare for the big day?

In keeping with tradition, a few days before the wedding, the women of the village came to the family house to bake the cakes.

Zsuzsi Serestély prepared my traditional tiara, with the obligatory elements, like rosemary, small roses, and silk ribbons called 'angel hair'. 

The groom and the best man also had their bouquets put together. The civil ceremony was not held on the same day, but a week before the big day, but we wore folk costumes for that, too. My mother put the dress and the attire for the occasion on me. On the day of the wedding, my fiancé and I were both in folk costume, and in the evening we changed, and I put on the white wedding dress then. 

 

What did the ceremony look like?

At my request, almost everyone - parents, friends, acquaintances - was in traditional costume at the wedding. We had 12 groomsmen and 10 bridesmaids, they also wore traditional folk costumes from Szék. According to custom, the night before, my fiancé and I assigned who would be paired with whom, and the groomsmen had to go and ask the girls, and they had to recite a poem. According to tradition, the wedding procession started from the groom's house, marched down the street singing and accompanied by a band, and came for me, the bride.

It is interesting that when the groom arrives at the bride's house with the procession, the gate of the bride's house is closed, and the groom's best man has to "beg" to be let in, and there is always a playful "argument". Then the wedding party came in, I waited in another room as my fiancé couldn't see me yet. It is customary to bring an unmarried girl and then a married woman to the groom, and only for the third time is the bride brought to the groom, all the while wonderful rhymed lines of poetry are recited.

After that, we had the farewell - it was very beautiful and touching for me. Then we proceeded to the church, also with music, with the guests walking behind us. 

After the ceremony, we headed to the groom's house, where I recited a poem to my mother-in-law, asking her to welcome me. 

Then the party started.

What other old traditions did you follow at the wedding?

The last time I had my hair braided was when I got married. According to tradition, as long as you are a girl, you must wear your hair braided and also wear a headscarf, except when you are a bridesmaid or taking communion. In the old days, at dawn on the wedding day, it was customary for the bride to make her hair tied up in a bun, and from then on she was obliged to wear a bun only. In my case, it was a little different, I got my bun not on that day, but on the Sunday of the week after the wedding. I went to church with my hair in a bun first as a new bride and my husband as a new man. This is also a compulsory custom, although it used to be the rule that after the wedding, the new bride could not leave the house for a week, only on Sunday morning, when she went to church. I didn't stay at home for a week, but I wore my hair in a bun during the church service.

Did you also go to church in traditional costume?

Yes, we wear folk costumes to church quite often, it's also an old tradition here in Szék. When I was confirmed, I went to church every Sunday morning and afternoon for a year in a traditional costume with my peers. Among the older people, almost everyone wears their traditional folk attire every day. One of the most distinctive parts of this is the baggy, starched, pleated sleeves of the shirt, but I could also mention the shawl, the various skirts, aprons, the waistcoat, the boots, and for men the blue waistcoat or the green sweater, and the straw hat. 

It is very important what we wear and when we wear it. For example, it makes a difference which skirt you wear to dance, and which one to church, or which shawl you wear on weekdays, and which one to Sunday services. 

Moreover, you should also make a difference whether you are wearing it to church in the morning, or in the afternoon.

What are your plans for the future?

My husband and I are currently building our home in Szék, and we are looking forward to it. I am planning to have a room in my home where I would keep all the embroidered tablecloths, pillowcases, and all the decorative objects, just like I used to have in my family's house. And I will continue to keep the traditions, it's part of my life.
 

Deep beneath the Buda Hills, under the Rózsadomb district to be precise, lies the largest water-filled cave system in Hungary, which is considered to be the largest thermal cave in the world. The Molnár János Cave is the water conduit for the Boltív and Alagút springs, and the cold karst water from the Buda Hills and the thermal spring water from the depths supplies the Malom Lake and the Lukács Spa and Swimming Pool. The cave, which has been a protected area since 1982, has a constant temperature of 22-23 degrees Celsius, regardless of the season, and is only accessible to qualified divers, mainly for research purposes. 

The history of the artificial mill lake on today's Frankel Leó Road dates back to the 16th century. The lake, which is fed by hot springs in winter and summer, was created by the Turks, as was the gunpowder mill that stands there. In 1686, under Habsburg rule, the latter was converted into a traditional mill and continued to operate under the name of the Emperor's Mill until the 19th century. In 1806, the Császárfürdő ('Emperor's Baths'), a hospital of the Hospitaller Order of Saint John of God, was opened on the lakeshore, which was rebuilt in the second half of the century, and its neoclassical wing was built according to the plans of József Hild.  At the turn of the 20th century, the Lukács Bath House, designed by Rezső Ray, with Moorish features and reminiscent of Turkish baths, was built and soon took over the role of the Emperor's Bath.  

Following the spring

The natural thermal springs of the Buda Hills were known even to the Romans, and the area known as Felhévíz hides a number of thermal karst caves, most of which were discovered by accident, including the system of passages known for many years as the Malomtavi Cave. In 1858, the pharmacist János Molnár, in search of the springs that feed the present-day Lukács Baths, found a cleft in the side of József Hill. The curious natural scientist suspected a water-filled cave above the water level of Mill Lake inside the mountain. 

He and a colleague ventured down to see the cave for themselves, and although they could not determine the extent of the cave, they explored the accessible parts and made a detailed analysis of the water they found. 

An attempt was made to drain the lake in order to find the spring, but the water-filled tunnels made further exploration impossible. Molnár shared his discovery with the public in 1858, and his first description of the cave was published in a medical journal, the "Orvosi Hetilap", followed a year later by a study in the yearbook of the Hungarian Royal Natural History Society. Molnár was the first to study the springs that fed the baths, and he also analysed the water and temperature of the cave in detail, and even made drawings of this natural wonder.  

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The Mill Lake – Photo: Wikimedia Commons

For advanced divers only 

For decades, only small-scale explorations were carried out due to a lack of appropriate technology, and few people undertook the life-threatening operation, as they had to dive through a small iron door and then down a narrow passage into the unknown depths. The first more detailed survey of the cave was carried out by Ferenc Papp and Sándor Tarics in 1937, followed in 1953 by one of the first Budapest dives of light diving in the Malom Lake by Dr. Hubert Kessler, Ödön Rádai and Attila Chambre, who attempted one of the first Budapest dives of light diving in Hungary with oxygen breathing equipment provided by the fire brigade, but without success. 

In 1959, after several unsuccessful attempts, István Holly was the first person to descend into the water with a simple diving mask and a waterproof flashlight, and then swim through two temporarily submerged passages, known as siphons. 

"Beyond that, there was a low cave, with barely an inch of air between the water and the ceiling. Soon the cave was completely filled with water. Swimming in, however, he found that the passage ended here. [...] The next day they found two completely dry rooms 4 stories high. After a few test dives, it turned out that this was not the whole cave, the water, in some places more than 10 metres deep, covered a large system of caverns," the University Newspaper reported on the discovery, which had been awaited for decades. Then outside help arrived, "using frogman equipment to penetrate the water-filled cave system, several underwater passages were found. The maximum depth they reached was 15 metres, but they could have gone further down." 

János Molnár had already suggested opening up the natural treasure via the mountain, and in 1976 Dr. Hubert Kessler argued for the cave's use for medical purposes. Since the end of the 1950s, people suffering from respiratory diseases had been treated in Hungarian caves, and so the idea was born to build a room for 20 patients, connecting the unions' summer boarding blocks on the Rózsadomb with the passageway system, and a corridor through which the Lukács Baths could be accessed by guests regardless of the weather. Although the construction began, the idea did not materialise. 

The golden age of research

The exploration of the Mill Lake Cave revived in the 1960s, and in 1973 a major expedition led by István Plózer, a diver and cave explorer, was launched. One member of the team, Gábor Mozsáry, recalled the event in his work Deep in the Underground Waters. " Diving down, it's like being in a water tank. Beautiful, clear water and life everywhere. Fish, plants. We take photos in the lake, because it's a rare occasion. Mr. Lily, the tenant, feels like we're trampling his vegetable garden. He thinks we're tearing up the plants, but it's just the water churning up as we swim. Diving in the pond is wonderful, but what we've come for is yet to come. Under the archway at the corner of the lake, a dark crevice opens up, above and below the water you can see far. We swim into it one after the other. The crevice is narrow but passable."

To ensure safer diving, coloured ropes were tied in the passages, and bases were set up in two air-filled chambers to help detect further passages. 

As a result of the research, three hundred metres of the cave system was discovered.  

Eight kilometres of maze

The deepest parts of the cave, which has borne the name of János Molnár since 1977, reach up to ninety to one hundred metres, and its known passages are now eight kilometres long, but it is still not known exactly how much of the cave is still to be explored. In the 2000s, an artificial cut in the cave revealed the world's largest thermal water chamber, a twenty to twenty-five-metre high hall named after Hubert Kessler. This fundamentally changed the future possibilities for exploration of the cave by creating a surface base for divers, making dives more efficient. Today's research is not just about exploring the excavated sections, water flow and water quantity, but also about studying the wildlife in detail.
 

How did your pro-life ministry begin?

It started with my husband, or rather when we met. In the summer of 1997, Dutch and Hungarian children went on a month-long missionary tour together in Hungary with the children's ministry of Youth with a Mission, called King's Kids. I was one of the invited leaders and Ed drove the bus with the Dutch children and adults. During the month-long camping trip, we had time to get to know each other with Ed, and the kids started teasing us, they realised long before we did that something was going on between us. After the camp, I travelled to the Netherlands on the same bus at the invitation of a family, but Ed insisted on showing me around the country. When I was left alone with him, the first thing that crossed my mind was that I was crazy: here I was with a strange man in a strange country... We sat down with the Dutch leaders to talk and soon afterwards we started planning our marriage. He took me to meet his parents, and they welcomed me with much love. His father told me that he had been praying for a wife for his son for two years. At that time my father was no longer alive, so I felt that I was receiving the father's blessing from him.

It seems that your encounter wasn't an ordinary one, and neither was your path to get there...

I had already been praying for a good husband for four years. 

One night in the middle of May 1997, I had a strange experience: I woke up and God said to me audibly, "Five and a half." 

I didn't see what that could possibly refer to, but I found out later. Ed and I came back to Hungary to sort out the paperwork and we ordered the ring. When it was finally ready several weeks later, we went out to Margaret Island. The Danube was low, and as we rounded the foot of the bridge there was a small area of land from where we could see beautiful Budapest lit up like a jewel box. There he proposed to me. It was then that it dawned on me that it was 31 October, exactly five and a half months since mid-May when I heard God's promise. It was like a seal of God on our relationship, which has given me a lot of strength over the past 26+ years. We had two weddings: the official one in the Netherlands, after which Ed's Christian church gave a lovely party, and the church one here in Hungary, at the Key of David Free Christian Church, where I used to go at the time.

What language did you talk to each other?

Our common language is English. The King's Kids leaders in the Netherlands suggested that, as we come from different countries, we should start our marriage in a third country, an English-speaking one. This proved to be fruitful advice. We chose Israel. Ed had previously worked for the Jewish Christian Ministry, a friend of his there was living with his extended family in Israel at the time, on the beach in several caravans, and we were able to move into one of their caravans. We were able to spend our honeymoon in a beautiful nature reserve, close to the beach and surrounded by orange groves; in exchange for accommodation, we helped with the housekeeping. We were able to spend every holiday in Jerusalem that year, it was an uplifting experience.

Have you been looking for your calling?

We prayed that God would use the year in Israel for our benefit; we were open to any Christian volunteer work. The Anglican Christ Church is located at the Jaffa Gate, and we saw a notice in the church cafeteria looking for volunteers. We worked for them for four months and lived in the Old City of Jerusalem. At a conference, we met Be'ad Chaim, a pro-life organization that had an office in Jerusalem. We started going to their weekly prayer meetings, and reading their publications. That was the first time we really came face to face with the reality of abortion. 

In Israel, the law allowed a mother to abort her child at any time within nine months. Women were also required to enlist as soldiers, and the government provided them with two free abortion options during their time in the military. 

For a people who have lived through the Holocaust, this permissiveness in abortion is shocking, resulting in a second Holocaust! It has become clear to us that the principle behind abortion is akin to slavery and Nazism, where people were stripped of their humanity. Wherever innocent blood is shed, the Bible says, it brings a curse: constant turmoil, war, misery. 
We joined the local pro-lifers to learn the methods of this ministry: we went all over Israel distributing leaflets. We encountered a lot of openness, as Israelis learn the Old Testament in school, but many threw the leaflet away; and we also met a woman who, on seeing the phrase "Do we throw children away like rubbish?" on the leaflet, sent us to hell with a frown on her face. She must have been involved. 

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Photo: László Katona

Did you experience any success back then?

We also handed out a small booklet. Someone threw it away after we handed it to them, but someone else, who was on her way to the abortion clinic, picked it up off the ground, read it, and as a result, kept her baby. In the five months that we did this ministry in Israel, we knew of at least five babies who were saved as a result of our leafleting work. 

Ed knew then that our main ministry was to protect the children intended to be aborted.

What did you find here in Hungary in terms of pro-life movements when you returned in early 1999?  

At that time, 60-70 thousand abortions were performed every year, up to the 12th week of pregnancy. We searched for those involved in pro-life work and found very few initiatives, and they did not really have the same mentality that we had experienced and desired. The Society of Christian Doctors in Hungary reached out to us. Through them and with the help of Free Christian congregations, we then won tenders, received donations, and used them to set up the Shout for Life ministry.

In autumn 2000, a helpline for pregnant women in crisis was launched, and the +36 70 2252525 number is still available today;
On 1 October 2001, the Pregnancy Crisis Counselling Centre opened in Budapest; since 2020, it has been operating online;
2002: the first counsellor training in Budapest, with 70 participants;
December 2003: the Shout for Life Association was officially founded;
In 2005, the post-abortion Bible study series and training of group leaders were launched; since then, hundreds of women have experienced spiritual healing after abortion in the groups;
From 2006 to the present, several international pro-life conferences have been organised in Hungary.

What were your ambitions when you started and what have you achieved so far?

Nonstop helplines, Pregnancy Crisis centres, and personal counselling - we wanted to implement these in Hungary, and they have all come to life. From 2001 we had our own office, where people could get a free pregnancy test - at that time it was not easy and cheap to access, and there was a great demand for it. It was also an opportunity for conversation: if they tested negative, we talked about responsible sexuality, and if they tested positive, we talked about what we could do to help them. It is very easy to talk about God, because the way a human comes into being is a miracle.

We received an ultrasound machine for our office and we wanted to offer free gynecological examinations, but this plan did not come true and we had to shut down our office due to the Covid epidemic. Today, the phone line is alive and we offer face-to-face appointments at the Jelen (“Presence”) Community Space, at 18 Kresz Géza Street, Budapest.

For many young people, the mention of God is a red flag, more alienating than attractive. How have you avoided this effect?

We attended an international pro-life conference in The Hague, where Life International was there, and they gave us very good training material; it's all about training our hearts and minds. It's important to listen completely to the people who come to us, to their problems, to help them in a personalised way; and when they have confidence in us, they themselves will be curious to know why we help them for free. We encouraged our counselors to dare to talk about their own failures and joys, their own faith.

We had people from many different backgrounds, both atheists and Christians from different denominations, we even met Hare Krishnas. 

We were pioneers of this type of personal pregnancy crisis counselling in Hungary.

If someone decides to keep her child, what can you do to help her?

We collected baby clothes, and we also looked for shelters for mothers when it was needed. We also prayed for them a lot, which was very welcome. We were also able to help with adoptions on several occasions in cooperation with the Hungarian BaptistAid.

How do you see the situation and opportunities for NGOs helping pregnant women today?

When we started our work, one of our goals was to help pregnant women in crisis physically and emotionally, to save children, but we also wanted to train pro-life workers. At one time we held two training courses a year based on the Life International workbook, and hundreds of people attended. It is very good to see that many of those who started their career at our courses are now doing professional pro-life work, thus we have been able to help set up many of today's pro-life NGOs.

How did your marriage and family turn out?

We didn't have any children of our own, although I had a great desire to have a big family, and I'm crazy about tiny babies. So Ed and I decided to become foster parents. It's not easy raising children with difficult backgrounds and behavioural problems, but we loved them very much. For seven years four children lived with us, it was a wonderful time. We adopted one child, who is now 20, and we have a little grandchild.

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Photo: László Katona

How did you cope when, despite the help you offered, the mother who came to you still aborted her baby?

It was a horrible feeling when I knew the time and the day... It was very heartbreaking at first, and of course later on, but by then I understood that it was not my responsibility. I will do everything I can to help the mother keep her baby, but the decision is hers. It's also very important not to manipulate anyone because the responsibility is hers, whether she keeps the child and has to bring it up, maybe on her own; or whether she lives with the thought that she has aborted it. 

It was important to make ourselves and others aware that this ministry is not a ministry of Ed, Zsuzsa, and our helpers and supporters, but of God. He wants to reach people, we are just co-workers. 

It was an honour to be confronted with the fact that there are people who share with us the most precious secrets of their hearts.

Can you recover from post-abortion syndrome?

Yes, we also help with spiritual healing after abortion, where we have also met some moving stories. A woman in her 80s came to one of the healing courses, and only at the very end did she tell us that she had had not one but six abortions. We were approached by an elderly woman who could not even count how many abortions she had had. In their youth, abortion was used almost as birth control. In the second half of the 1960s, there were twice as many abortions as births.

In Hungary today, we have a liberal abortion law, while at the same time, the Constitution declares the protection of fetal life. Sometimes I feel that, in the lack of a state institutional network, the few church organizations and NGOs that try to help pregnant women in crisis are just a small drop in the ocean. What more can be done?

I think a network would be important, but it's like a map, and if you don't have a reference point, you can get lost with a map. Networks can keep you, but they are generally impersonal and cold. It is through personal connections that change can really come in the situation of someone in crisis, decision to have the baby could even give them purpose and joy in life.

Older generations were led to believe that the baby in their womb was just a clump of cells, but today's new generation, with the internet as their primary source of information, knows that the baby's heart starts beating at three weeks. I once received a phone call from a middle-aged woman who had only realized too late how big her baby had been and how much it had felt at eight weeks when she aborted it, and she was pained afterwards that no one had told her about it at the time. Today's young people may already be aware even of the emotional burden after an abortion. I am a great believer in getting the facts, the truth, out in the open, and there has been progress in that. As the Bible says, "The truth will set you free".

The more scientific facts about fetal life become known, the more indefensible abortion becomes, because it is becoming increasingly obvious: it is taking the life of a living human being. Scientific knowledge is consistent with the Bible, with God's teaching on the protection of life.

Another important cornerstone of our ministry is love. Justice and love are two pillars, both equally important. The motto of our training was also "Speaking the truth in love". We have always tried to make people who come to us feel that they are not alone: we are with them, and we have also told them about God because He is with them even when we are not physically with them. We tried to connect everyone to a Christian community, to a church. When our daughter was very sick and was expecting a baby when she was young, I asked for help, but the thing that really helped her the most was that I made a decision: I would support her, I would sacrifice for her, I would help her in her daily life. The best thing that can help young people is to have a family by their side in a crisis. It is not easy. That is what God did: he became incarnate in Jesus, who walked among us, taught us, and then sacrificed Himself for us. Before His ascension, He promised to send us an Advocate, a Comforter, so that we would not be alone – and that is the Holy Spirit. He also gave us community so that we could experience love and acceptance through people.

How many children owe their lives to Shout for Life?

At least 120 that we know of for sure, but probably more. I cannot give an exact number because we have not been able to follow the fate of all of them. Four or five children a year we knew that we had helped their mothers to make a decision to keep their child's life. We have very beautiful, empowering stories, and we have remained friends with some of them to this day.

Count Miklós Bánffy's literary work, the Transylvanian Trilogy,  published in the second half of the 1930s, is today regarded as a chronicle of the end of the golden age of the Transylvanian –  and in some respects the entire Hungarian –  aristocracy. The historical novel, which ran from 1904 to the moment of signing the Trianon Peace Treaty (1921), certainly benefited from the few decades of distance necessary for its writing, but at the same time, part of the aristocratic world, which was already bleeding from many wounds, regarded the author as a traitor, as Count Miklós Bánffy did not dare to expose the aristocratic world's dirt. Despite the author's practices aimed at the benevolent 'masking' of the story's protagonists, everyone knew who was who in the story, but there was no question about the fundamental authenticity of the plot. The reader could condemn the 'rotten to the core' world and discover the human dimension of aristocratic society at the same time.

Although Boris Kálnoky's family novel Ahnenland, first published in German in 2011, does not attempt the same broad scope as Bánffy's work, it does however, provide a reliable insight into the centuries-old history of a Hungarian aristocratic family with affectionate sarcasm and self-irony. It was published in Hungarian in 2023, under the title Őseim földje - a Kálnoky család története (The Land of my Ancestors – the Story of the Kálnoky Family).

The twists and turns of the Kálnokys' story encompass the history of the Hungarian aristocracy over the past half millennium, from Szeklerland, Romania to Slovakia and Vienna. 

Tibor Kálnoky, known to many as the British monarch's "governor of Transylvania", was perhaps the first aristocratic descendant to return to Transylvania from abroad, who made it his life's goal to reclaim and preserve the legacy of his ancestors. While he was busy piling up stones, preserving, renovating, restoring, and searching for a new identity for his property, his brother Boris retraced the family history of his grandfather, the last Kálnoky, who was exiled from Transylvania in 1938. 

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The cover of the Hungarian edition of Boris Kálnoky's novel

Beyond the bloodline, the author also feels and professes a strong spiritual kinship with his grandfather Hugó, who, after the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy following the First World War, was a great returnee of the Kálnoky family to Kőröspatak, Romania, the family's former nest. "Perhaps it is my task to tell the story of Hugó," says the writer-grandson. - If you want, it can also be the story of paradise on earth (or what you thought it was), of the three villages of Kőröspatak, Kálnok, and Miklósvár, and of the families that came before you and those who came after you. It will be a long journey, leading to England, Tasmania, the Nuremberg trials and Sisi, Queen of Hungary, Washington, Constantinople, and Berlin, and more wars than I can count. And all to ' return'."

So a fascinating journey begins, where family letters, archival material, and folios are the main sources of inspiration. The historical and sometimes literary value of the documents themselves could keep the reader in constant suspense, but the author's desire to find connections, to explain and interpret adds enormous value to the work. Although Boris Kálnoky's interpretations, which seek historical parallels and transpose attitudes of centuries ago into the present, often have the declared intention of not going beyond the possibility of 'it could have happened this way', the reader is left with the impression that some of the puzzle pieces in his understanding of history have now really come into their place.

The authenticity of the family novel is enhanced by the unconcealed honesty with which Boris Kálnoky talks about how his family used to acquire rank and wealth. 

Born "at the beginning of the terrible 20th century", Grandfather Hugó's childhood is described by the author as beautiful. "He owes it all to the marital virtuosity of his heroes. They were like sharks in the aquarium of the aristocratic dowry market," sounds the harsh assessment.

"Sometimes you enter a gate and you have no idea that you are leaving everything behind; the only way out is to a new world" –  this is how Boris, who until his young adulthood had only had a superficial knowledge of his Szekler roots, put it on his first visit to his home in Kőröspatak. Grandfather Hugó must have felt the same way when Ludmilla Kálnoky, the childless grandmother of the Szekler branch of the family chose him as her heir to the Kőröspatak estate. At that time the family had already split into two branches: the Szekler/'Kuruc' (Hungarian rebel) and the 'Labanc '(loyal to the Austrian emperor). He had to promise one thing: never to sell the castle near Sepsiszentgyörgy (Sfântu Gheorghe). The year was 1923, and Hugó's struggle with the Romanian authorities for citizenship and a settlement permit, which he never received, continued with interruptions until his deportation at Christmas 1938. But living in a permanent temporary situation, suffering from a chronic shortage of money, and even engaging in crazy initiatives to plug budget holes, Hugó stuck to his vow to Ludmilla: he would never sell the castle. And he had found his way home, as he put it in his many letters, he had found paradise on earth in the Háromszék region. Meanwhile, not only as a freelance contributor to the Budapest newspaper Pester Lloyd, he followed the events of the fascistising world with exceptional sensitivity, but also with the concern of a thinking, responsible man. From his mid-thirties onwards, even as a father and head of a family, his commitment to public life did not wane, despite the demands of his more than full-time responsibilities.  

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Boris Kálnoky - Photo: Mathias Corvinus Collegium

Raised in four countries, Boris Kálnoky, who spoke no Hungarian at all until he was an adult, came to Hungary as a correspondent for Die Welt and Die Presse newspapers in Budapest and is now head of the media school at Mathias Corvinus Collegium (MCC).
It was in the company of his father, Farkas Kálnoky, and his brother Tibor that he first visited his ancestral land in the last years of the Ceaușescu era. "I didn't belong anywhere before, I would have been great material for the idea of a European citizen." In 2007, he began his journey to his spiritual homeland, writing a novel. "I have often wondered what Hugó would have thought or felt had he been in my shoes when I was struggling with my own thoughts or feelings (...) While I was researching the lives of my ancestors, Europe was beset by unforeseen crises. (...) It must have been the same for Hugó and many of my other ancestors when their world was hit by great shocks (...) In an age of incomprehensible catastrophes, I now understand, that it was Hugó's Christian faith that offered support and protection against extreme temptations. A few old-fashioned principles gave him the strength to always remain a Man."
 

Was your path to deacon ministry straight from the start?

I grew up in a non-religious family, but I wasn't forbidden to go to church or to religious services. I stood at the altar, sang, and handled the incense, and the smell of it all seeped into me. Still, I drifted away for a while, and it was the Serbian Orthodox Church in Ráckeve that led me back into its sphere of attraction. When I entered, I could smell the incense emanating from the walls, and I realized how much I missed it. I became involved in the life of the Greek Catholic community in Budapest, studying theology and devouring the books of the Church Fathers to understand the teachings of the Church. Years later, I saw a deacon serving in the Orthodox Church in Petőfi Square, in Budapest. He had a charisma that impresses me to this day. In the Byzantine rite, the deacon faces the altar as well as the congregation during prayer and the reading of the liturgy, and he also burns incense. This role of being a mediator finds me in all aspects of my life, and it is in this that I experience unity. I try to serve as much as possible in the church, besides constantly painting. My wife, son and I live in a small loft apartment where I do not have a studio. I paint on the table we eat on.

How did you learn the art of icon painting?

I learnt from an icon painter in Athens, Dimitris Siregelas, who spent a few years in the Orthodox community in Budapest and we have been calling him back ever since. At first, I was approached by families and individuals. The really big turning point came in 2021 when icon painter and restorer Tamás Seres invited me to join his team to paint the Cathedral of Nyíregyháza. 

I had to decide whether icon painting would remain a hobby for me or become a profession. I took a deep breath and said yes.

After Nyíregyháza we are now working in Miskolc, and the next project will be in Debrecen. I dedicate the time left to the murals of the Greek Catholic chapel in Eger, and I have a list of orders for icon panels at home.

What is the difference between paintings on wood and on a wall?

The theology and structure of the paintings are the same, but the technique is different depending on whether it is on wood, canvas or wall. The wood panel needs to be prepared - planed, primed, sanded - to provide a stable surface. We look for a prototype, a model, which is not always adaptable to church walls one by one. Serious design work has to precede it, to see the whole thing in one piece. In our chapel, we have only finished the painting of the sanctuary, but I already have the whole wall surface in my head. Ideally, we sketch it out on cardboard beforehand and work out the colours. In reality, it will need constant adjustment according to the incoming light. If you are working in a church scale, you will need to paint more emphatically, with larger strokes, to make it look effective from below.
 

What are the roots of icon painting?

The direct forerunners of icons are the Egyptian mummy portraits. The portrait, painted on a wooden panel, was placed on the mummy so that the soul would recognise the body when it returned. The oldest mural paintings are found in the west, because in Byzantium, during the decades of iconoclasm, the paintings were whitewashed, the mosaics were destroyed and the icons were shattered. But the Pope protected the icon worshippers. That is why we can say that icons are not only the treasures of the Eastern Church, but also of the universal Church, that is, our common heritage. When you enter an early medieval church in Serbia, Greece or Italy, you almost don't know whether you are in an Orthodox or a Catholic building. The key to unity is rooted in the past, in the one thousand years when the Church was undivided. Iconoclasm has implanted in the soul of the Eastern Church that it is not just acceptable to depict the saints, but necessary. 

If I believe that God has come into the world and has been made visible in Christ, then I proclaim it not just in words and deeds, but also in pictures and colours. 

What role do creativity and the personality of the artist play in icon painting?

In contemporary art the individual expresses themselves, but in icon painting, they adapt. It is not the artist who is important, which is why we do not sign our works. The great icon painters are identifiable, we admire their individuality and style, but they have always remained within the traditional framework. When a choir sings ancient Byzantine hymns, individual virtuosity is not appropriate. In the same way, we try to stick to the tradition in which the images were conceived because in many cases they contain the texts of the ceremonial ritual. In fact, the sacred act and movements of the liturgy are expressed in colour. That is why we need to understand the rites and join in the prayer of the Church. The icon is essentially a creed. I paint the face of God because I believe that He became visible.

They say that painting the image of God and the saints is not only a work of art but also a prayer.

Prayer definitely, but where I am now, it's more of a challenge, a focused activity. But it is important for the icon painter to live the life of the Church, to be involved in her prayers, fasting and feasts.

How long does it take to complete a piece of art?

A face can be done in a day or two, but a scene is more complex; sometimes it takes weeks. I like working in stages; putting it down and then picking it up again in a week or two, looking at it with fresh eyes. I work on several icons at the same time.

You mentioned the restrictions of representation. What can be known about the symbolism of colours?

Not every colour has a meaning in every setting. Of the apostles, Peter's outer garment is usually ochre-brownish-green, which is how he can be identified. 

The crimson of Christ's garment represents the divine nature, the blue the human. His lower garment is always crimson, his upper garment blue, because He is God who has taken on human nature. 

The Madonna, on the other hand, has the colours reversed, because she is human, but she has assumed the divine nature. In Syrian icons, the Madonna is usually depicted in pure blue, because in the Syrian tradition blue is the colour of motherhood. There are many different schools of icon painting, but the basics are common.

What is the role of gold?

On the one hand, gold expresses appreciation that we want to offer something of value. Gold in the halo, in the background or on the clothes can be used to express the presence of the uncreated light that surrounds the saint. Gold goes beyond colours, compared to them it is transcendent. 

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Murals by Mihály Vajda in the Greek Catholic Chapel in Eger - Photo: Mihály Vajda

What paint do you use?

The wooden panels are traditionally painted with egg tempera, using egg yolk as a fixative. We add water, white wine vinegar, and mainly mineral pigments. I also like to work with more modern materials, such as acrylic on canvas. In the church in Nyíregyháza we painted with silicate, a relatively new technique. It resists UV light well, it doesn't fade, and the colour is durable. In appearance, it resembles a fresco, but it does not require wet plaster. However, it is essential to have practice in designing the colours, as they appear significantly lighter when dry.

The monks of the mysterious monasteries of Mount Athos are the guardians of the tradition of icon painting. Have you been there?

My Master once allowed me to work with him on the Holy Mountain. I was able to spend six days at the Simonos Petras monastery. 

I helped him paint the primary colours, the so-called seven-colours, and gave myself over to the very special atmosphere that embraces you there. 

Athos is a thousand-year-old monastic state with large monasteries and nearly two thousand monks. I was able to join in their prayers, which began at four in the morning. We worked, prayed, and occasionally made pilgrimages to other monasteries. I also met a Hungarian father whom I asked about the Prayer of the Heart. It was an unforgettable experience.

What comes to your mind when you look at the painted walls of churches?

The saints stand before us as examples. They look at us from the walls of the church and point the way. We too are invited to join them. This is one of the messages of the icons.
 

Many mothers with young children start a similar business, what motivated you? Did you have a long-standing dream to start a guesthouse? 

A lot of people misunderstand this because they think I had a dream and then I got confirmed to do it. But that's not what happened. When two of our three little boys were born, I looked for opportunities to do something that would fit in with my family. I asked for advice, I went to a coach, and various ideas came up, from running a café to organizing walks in the city, but none of them was the right fit. My husband and I looked for solutions together. Our questions were answered in a day.

How?

Five years ago in the summer, we spent a holiday in a lovely, friendly place, where we were welcomed by lovely hosts. I thought this was something I'd like to do myself. From the holiday, we went to my in-laws in a village. I was waiting for the egg delivery in the summer morning sunshine, and I was thinking how good it must be to live here. Then, in the blink of an eye, the picture came together: what if we moved to the area from Budapest and opened a guesthouse? I believe I got the answer "from above", I had a thought that it was a good idea and we had everything we needed to make it happen. But inside myself I protested: should we really leave our comfortable and familiar lives, our friends, our Reformed congregation in Fasor, and venture into the unknown? When it comes to big decisions in our house we always base them on whether we agree with my husband. So I asked Dani, who said it was a good idea. We saw the opportunity, and the vision, and we felt confirmed that this was our way. A week later, we looked at the little house in Csókakő, and knew right away that we had to buy it. In the autumn, we sold our apartment in Zugló, Budapest, and wanted to move to Mór, three kilometers from Csókakő.

We ran into obstacles, Covid hit, and the deadline to move out was looming, when by some "coincidence" – our car unexpectedly broke down – walking through Mór we saw a handwritten ’for sale’ sign on a property. It turned out the owner had just put it up and hadn't even started advertising yet. 

We liked it, and within days we agreed. We built our house there and that's where we live now.

What concept was behind the design of the guest house in Csókakő?

I contacted Eszter Őrfi, who is an environmentally conscious interior designer, and together we designed and transformed the old house. It's an "Affordable Luxury Bush" project, and I learned a lot about its approach and good practices. For example, we didn't lift ready-made solutions off the shelves of department stores, but brought what we could from close by, used natural materials, had a lot of refurbished furniture, made partitions from laths, our decorator painted the wall coverings and we avoided over-decorating. It was hard work, but worth it. We are proud to have been featured in an interior design magazine.

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Photo: Réka Sámson - Simples Studio

Is this a job for you? Do you like doing it?

Yes, I can't imagine a better job than that. I realized that as a landlady, I was doing all the things I always wanted to do: decorating, tidying up, organizing activities, meeting people, and working in the garden. I'm interested in people's stories and they are often happy to share how they are, and where they come from. Otherwise, my two main qualifications are German teacher and international relations specialist, and I have previously worked in business school, publishing, museums, and a large multinational company. Now I am in my place, it is a personal gift and I live it as a vocation. My husband, Dani, worked on this with all his might when the house was being built, but he has taken a back seat since the start. He works for a software development company, mainly in a home office. He stands by my side, brainstorming together, and takes care of the kids when I need to be at the guest house.

What's the story behind the name?

We wanted to have a name that implied that we were Christians but not too forced. Lídia Draskóczy has a beautiful song, the lyrics of which describe our story in a nutshell. "Lantern on the road, light in the darkness, In the night You are the hope (...), where You set me, there I'll give myself over, there I'll shine for You!" 

So we go where God places us. The little house, as it stands there on the hill, lit up in the dark, really is like a lantern. 

Of course, not everyone will have biblical associations, and that's okay.

Your website says: "A city on a hill cannot be hidden..." Is the "good news" also reflected in your hospitality?

On the website and in my blog, I write about the values that are important to us. And on social media, I post a picture or two and a Bible verse that is on my heart every Sunday. Some people understand these as more of a pithy quote, but others contact us for just that. We also meet people who draw strength from them, or we draw strength from them. In the living room, there are posters with Bible verses on the walls, and there are novels, poetry books, and Bibles on the shelves. I sometimes put János Lackfi's poetry book 'Jóéjtpuszi' ('Goodnight Kiss') on the bed, in which I put a bookmark for the poem of my choice. During Advent and Lent, I share the front pages of a devotional book online, so that anyone interested can write and I will gladly send them the devotions daily. Many people have signed up. Some asked for books, others contacted me with questions. My priority is to be hospitable in love, and I am happy to talk to anyone open to that. Most of the time, the topic is not necessarily the gospel or Christianity, but that's not the goal in such short meetings.

"When you come to us, do not be in a hurry," you write to visitors. What does the "no hurry" attitude mean to you?

The guesthouse is run on the principle of quiet, slow, and sustainable tourism. It is set up as if we were lending you our weekend home, so it's not a sterile, perfect place, but a semi-home away from home. The textiles, the freestanding bath, the fitted kitchen, the bookshelf, and our typewriter are all designed to do just that. We don't have a TV, but you'll find board games, books, a wonderful view. 

Behind us is a forest, the blue trail, and a pilgrimage route at the end of the garden. From the terraces, there is a beautiful view of the Bakony. For us and our guests, it is important to have silence, nature, and slow-down. 

Someone once said in feedback, "It was good to listen to each other, not in a hurry like at home, just reading, relaxing, and talking to each other". Local delicacies are also popular.

You mentioned the initial difficulties. How do you deal with success and failure?

My task is not to make a successful business but to light the lamp until and as the Lord wants me to. My main goal is not success in the worldly sense, but a place set aside for Him, and that is how I think of it and plan for it. I used to be told I was anything but the entrepreneurial type, but I realized if this is my calling, I can do it and I'm happy to do it. There's no script on exactly how to do things, the obstacles don't roll away, but we get help all the way. In four years we have wanted to give up many times, and we have had many failures, but the moments of joy have carried us through the difficulties. "Will this ever get done?!" - I asked the question one night, at a low point. Then I read the daily scripture, including chapter 4 of Zechariah about the golden lampstand, the finished building, the ministry, and the two olive trees. We also planted two olive trees in our garden to remind us of this. 

The author is a student of journalism at the Faludi Ferenc Jesuit Academy.
 

I've known Ferenc Marlok for a long time now and I know that he has a dying trade, which few people understand as well as he does. "I have been working with children with scoliosis and making various scoliosis braces for almost forty years. We are talking about a structural spinal condition of unknown origin, of unknown background, and since we don't know what the causes are and what the answers are to the whys, the treatment for the time being is with this plastic corrective device, which functions a bit like a dental brace. We give the spine an external support that acts like a stake next to a bending little tree: the back brace is trying to steer the curved spine in the right direction."

"The children are the reason I've been in this profession for decades: it's wonderful to fight for them, to help them, to pave their way, to make them straighter."

Treatment is very difficult because no teenage child dreams of wearing a plastic back brace for twenty-two hours a day for years. The rules are firm, as is the brace, but Feri talks easily with almost every child and gets them to cooperate. What's the secret? 

“I suppose it is that I don’t just make a piece of plastic for them but take time to talk to them and kids appreciate this. They sense that I really concerned about them, and their problem, I pay attention to them, I want to see them regularly and I am curious about whatever they have to say. When we start working together in therapy we talk about the importance, the sanctity of a promise. “ You promised, we shook hands, we’ve never lie to each other.” "The fact that I'm not only making them a plastic, but I'm taking the time to make them. And a child understands that I really want to spend time with him, I really want to pay attention to him, I want to see him regularly, I'm curious about him. When we start to work together in therapy, I talk a lot about the sanctity of the word. "You promised, we shook hands, we never lie to each other." And they tell me the truth, and that's a great gift. I see that rigour pays off. Sometimes we just talk and they give me the gift of their trust, which is wonderful. I mentioned the handshake. If one learns as a child that a handshake means more than anything, then as an adult they will know that it is an obligation. I hope they take those values with them."

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Photo: Jácint Jónás

Feri speaks with great passion and you can sense the power he has to win over children. Yet the question is whether it is possible to get bored of this work in such a long time, since the tools are the same, the treatment is the same and the problem with which he is being consulted is the same. Are you not in danger of burnout, I ask. "You have to pray a lot," he replies, "pray for humility, for good judgment. That I can make the right decision that day, in the best interests of the child

You can only do it with the help of God, otherwise you can get incredibly tired. I always pray for the day and at the end of the day I can say that I have made the effort.

I often realize in hindsight where I should have said two sentences more or two sentences less, but you always have to try. Sometimes I succeed."

During the long treatment - I ask further - what gives you feedback, how can you tell if you have reached a child? He answers that it often takes years to realize at the farewell that it was very important for the child that we had to meet regularly, or that he was encouraged here. One of them said, "You were a certainty."

Since he mentioned prayer, we start talking about faith. "I grew up in a Christian home, we were altar boys as children, and although the regime at the time frowned upon these things, our family was in church every Sunday. I've been a lay pastoral assistant for eleven years now, which means I can administer communion at Masses, conduct liturgies when there's no priest, conduct funerals, and house dedications."

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Photo: Jácint Jónás

You might think that there is little else to his life besides the passionate work he does and the tasks he takes on in the church, but for Feri, his family - his role as a husband and father - is the most important. "You have to be a rock as well as a poppy.

The rock is solid, and secure, and the poppy has only one day to live, it must be at its best and the most beautiful on that one day. I want to combine these two so that I can be the most giving, the most lovable, but also the most secure.

My most important task is to pass on to my own children the importance of personal faith, which is not just about going to church or whether I put the money in the money box. I have always prayed that they would have a personal, secure, mountain-moving faith. I am confident that they have that now, and I am very proud of them. I also pray for humility and for my wife, who is a wonderful woman for putting up with me."

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Photo: Jácint Jónás

Whatever Feri talks about, he does it in a determined and confident way, but he is also honest about the difficulties he faces "In love, in work, in faith, there are many struggles. When you're young, you think you're strong and you can do anything. But when the burden is put on you, you may have to find a way to relieve the tension, and one way people find at hard times is to drink. You have to be strong to realize that this is very wrong and to be able to say that I'm not doing this from tomorrow. That's how I put the cigarettes down when I was discharged from the army, I said no more from tomorrow, never again. I said the same about drinking, that I couldn't go on like that, because there was a time when I drank every day. I realized that I could lose my family, I'd go under, there was no point. If you want to be a rock and a poppy, then alcohol doesn't fit in the picture, because then you're not yourself. At work, which was becoming more and more demanding and rigorous, there was no room for even one day of slacking off. You have to be able to control your ‘Brother Donkey ", as St Francis referred to the body. I haven't had a sip of alcohol in almost thirty years."

When I reply that his work also seems to be a serious passion, he smiles and says: "That's me, it's in my blood, I've learned it from my father: you have to be at the front of the line at work.

My principle is not "I've got an idea, you do the job", but rather "I've got an idea, let's do the job together." 

Whatever the job - animal husbandry, forestry, postal services - I always tried to carry the heavy lifting. But for the fact that I was able to make someone of myself the credit is not mine but of the prayers of my mother, my father, and my wife."

CEO from the Hargita

Born in the heart of Szeklerland, in Gyergyószentmiklós (Gheorgheni), he now lives with his family in Kolozsvár (Cluj-Napoca), but his work takes him on the road, from Szatmárnémeti (Satu Mare) to Marosvásárhely (Târgu Mures) and Brassó (Brasov). Dénes Laczkó is the Managing Director of UBM Feed Romania, the largest feed producer in Hungary's eastern neighbour. At the same time, he also manages Poultry Investment, a group of companies involved in chicken breeding, hatching, chicken growing, and slaughtering, and, at the end of the chain, in the sale of chicken meat. The young economist graduated from Babeș-Bolyai University in 2012. He got into agriculture and animal husbandry not consciously, but rather by chance.

He started his career in the car parts sector, where he quickly became a leader, and only later did he enter the grain trade, the feed industry and then the chicken meat market. 

"Romania is a major agricultural power: it produces more than 30 million tonnes of grain, most of which is exported, but imports the added value due to a lack of processing capacity. In other words, we export the grain and re-import the feed. This is also true for livestock: they are exported as live animals, but in the lack of modern slaughterhouses, we have to import the processed meat into the country," he explains. A solution to this situation has been sought and found in Transylvania. For a long time, feed was supplied from Hungary, but they realised there was a local demand for production. The feed factory was built jointly with the UBM group in Hungary, so it is half and half owned. The plant opened in 2019 in Kerelőszentpál (Sanpaul), near Marosvásárhely (Târgu Mures).

“poultry and pigs fatten up faster”

The largest and most modern feed factory in Romania is located in Kerelőszentpál (Sanpaul). They produce feed for poultry, pigs and farm animals. They produce 30 tonnes per hour and 220 thousand tones per year. The plant employs 46 people, 17 of them in production. A shift is run by three people: an operator who controls the production in front of a computer and two other workers. Production is fully automated, seven days a week, 0-24 hours.

"It is one of the top five factories in Europe," they say of the facility, and Dénes Laczkó confirms this. He points out that not only do they produce premium quality feed, but they also provide expert advice, which means they actually go out and help farmers on the spot, on the farm. Their customers include small backyard farms as well as professional large-scale livestock farmers.
"When’s a customer happy? When the poultry and pigs fatten up faster. We set a record in this among Romanian poultry farms, as the best results were achieved with our feed." –  underlines the CEO. According to Dénes Laczkó, there are still a lot of negative myths about large-scale poultry farming, such as the chickens being treated with antibiotics and hormones.

He says that people tend to associate a healthy lifestyle with chickens pecking away on the backyard, whereas he believes that even large-scale production can produce the same quality. 

"We use grain, i.e. wheat, maize, sunflower and soya meal, and add vitamins and minerals to make a ready-made feed that helps the chicken to develop healthily. There are no secrets, no hormones, no drugs," he says. In addition, the whole production process is environmentally friendly, using solar energy, and the emissions are close to zero.

Egg, hen, Szekler Chicken (”Székely Csürke”)

Two years ago, when they saw that the feed factory was successful and working well, they decided to not only feed other people's chickens with the high quality feed, but also to have their own. That's how Poultry Investment was born.

From hatchery to shelves
Poultry Investment employs 820 people. Hens and roosters are reared on two farms, from where the eggs are transported to two hatcheries. Every year, 15 million day-old chicks are produced and reared to slaughter weight on 13 sites, from where they are sent to two slaughterhouses. At the end of the process, 25,000 tonnes of chicken meat are produced annually.

Most of the delicious chicken meat goes to supermarket chains, while a smaller proportion ends up on the shelves of their own shops. In addition, they have two brands of their own on the market: the Székely Csürke ('Szekler Chicken')) for Hungarians in Transylvania and Puiul de Craiesti (Chicken from Királyfalva/Craiesti) for Romanian customers. The Székely Csürke is now available throughout Szeklerland and will be expanded to other areas of Transylvania. They are also present in some chain stores in Hungary, but further expansion is planned. 

Dénes Laczkó spends his everyday life commuting between the feed factory, the slaughterhouses and the various company premises.

At the same time, supporting talented students is also an important part of his life, and he has founded a special training course at the University of Agricultural Sciences and Veterinary Medicine in Kolozsvár (Cluj-Napoca).

The most talented students in each year group are selected to gain practical experience beyond their theoretical education at university. This year, for the third year running, he has also been an active participant in the Transylvanian Mentor Program organised by the Hungarian State Secretariat for National Policy. He aims to pass on his knowledge to as many prospective entrepreneurs as possible.
 

The first cards

The Buda Synod of 1279, for example, forbade priests from attending events where they played cards because it was considered gambling. The fight against gambling includes the story of St. John of Capistrano, who preached so successfully against it in Nuremberg that his followers burned nearly 40,000 dice, thousands of backgammon sets, and many packs of cards at the stake.

However, the fight against cards has never really won the day.

The new printing techniques of the 15th century made it possible to produce this game in large quantities at affordable prices, and while it was once a passion of royalty and nobility, it has since become a great source of entertainment for all social classes. Even King Sigismund and King Matthias played cards, but the first surviving domestic cards were made much later and came from a printing press: the binding plates of Gábor Pesti' s dictionary, which were probably made in the 1560s. Where there was a printing press, there was also a card painter.

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Card printing press in the late 18th century - Photo: Wikipedia

Playful everydays

The card game thus began to spread slowly, reaching its heyday in the 19th century. By this time, artistic illustrations were being produced in Hungary, and card playing became an inescapable part of domestic social life. The card table and the card press, where cards could be stored to keep their original shape and rest until the next game, were an essential part of the home. In 1869 the First Hungarian Card Factory Limited Company was founded. Contemporary books, literature, and paintings show the importance of this game, but even works on manners always include a reference to card playing. The country gentry saw it as the best form of entertainment, as did the great men of the age. Franz Liszt, for example, was rather passionate about cards and played them every day, not for money but for fun whenever he had the chance. As one of his fellow musicians and fellow players, István Thomán, recalls, 'this musical giant of childish nature was quite unhappy when he lost.

and because of this we later made sure that he would always win”  

But there was another side. At the turn of the century, the newspapers often reported on scandals, losses of fortune, duels, caused by the game. Kálmán Mikszáth wrote in his pamphlet "Kártya" (The Card) his thoughts against what he considered to be a more dangerous pastime than drinking pálinka. As he wrote, "The passion for playing cards has become so rampant nowadays that it can be described as the cancer of our society. It is the most burning wound threatening to destroy us. Armies of bloodthirsty kings, massed together, and engaged in deadly battles, have never killed so many men as the four painted men on horseback and the other eight on foot, whom we call 'kings', 'lower knaves' and 'upper knaves'. If we want to make mankind happy, let us first destroy these kings with their subjects." Fighting the king was a good call.

The Hungarian deck

This is what József Schneider appealed to. He was the creator of the best-known type of card in Hungary, the Hungarian deck, which began to spread before the War of Independence in 1848. It was fashionable at the time to put characters from literary works on cards, and this is what Schneider, who worked in Pest, did. He took a popular story about the struggle against the Habsburgs and painted that on his set of cards. Habsburg oppression was the reality of everyday life at that time, yet the Austrian censors could not object. The story was that of William Tell and the freedom fight of the Swiss people against the tyrannical Habsburg imperial governor Gessler and his henchman. Schiller's drama had made it into the Hungarian public consciousness (it was first performed in Kolozsvár (Cluj) in 1827), so everyone could understand the reference. The depictions of nameless kings continued an old card tradition, as did the allegories of the seasons on the aces. The lower and upper knaves cards, on the other hand, depict the characters of the drama, while the other cards show images with William Tell on them.

And on bell IX you can see the hat of Gessler, the Habsburg’s man, on a pole...

(The Hungarian deck has 32 cards, divided into four suits: acorns, hearts, leaves, and bells. The cards are numbered with Roman numerals from VII-X, followed by lower and upper knaves, kings, and aces.)

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The acorn upper knave card with William Tell from the card painter Ferdinand Piatnik of Vienna, whose predecessor was the card design by József Schneider - and the seven of bells (circa 1865) - Image: Wikipedia

Dealing cards 

So it is understandable why Hungarians who were forced to emigrate after the fall of the 1848-49 War of Independence took a few decks with them. Although it never became known in Switzerland, the Hungarian deck of cards appeared in Paris and Frankfurt in the second half of the 19th century. In fact, after 1865 it began to spread in the Austrian-Hungarian Monarchy. This was thanks to a major enterprise of Ferdinand Piatnik of Vienna (whose father was a native of Buda). The monopolistic company has, with some modifications, introduced the "Tell deck" to the Czech and Polish markets. For this reason, and because of the German parallels between the suits (acorns, hearts, leaves, and bells), it was long believed that this type of card was the invention of Piatnik. Until 1973, when an English collector and card historian, Sylvia Mann, bought one of the original cards, dated around 1835, with the name of József Schneider from Pest on it. Although Ödön Chwalowszky, also from Pest, created a Tell card at about the same time as Schneider, Schneider is still considered to be the first. His workshop was located at 55 Kazinczy (formerly Kiskereszt) Street in Budapest; in 1996, the Hungarian Talon Foundation and the Pató Pál Association, placed a commemorative plaque on the wall of this house, and 29 December was designated Hungarian Card Day.

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The house in Budapest where József Schneider's card-making workshop used to be, with the plaque on it - Photo: Wikipedia

Literature used: 
https://www.kartya-jatek.hu/irodalom/ 
Jánoska Antal, A magyar kártya története, ikonográfiája, készítői 
Perjés András, Kártyatörténet: A kártyajátékok és társadalmi megítélésük