"As a Szekler, God expects a little more from me" – Chicago pastor believes in friendship between heaven and earth
Even during his student years in Marosvásárhely (Târgu Mures), there were always communities around Áron Trufán - whether he was going to folk dancing or Bible classes. No wonder that he later became the heart of the Hungarian community overseas, where he was serving then as a Reformed pastor with youthful and bold sermons. Áron is justly proud of his role in organizing the Hungarian Goulash Festival which became popular across America, as well as of the many friendships he helped to develop between people - and God.
Did you decide early on to become a priest?
For a long time I didn't know what I was going to do when I grew up, and once my foster father, who had grown up in a very poor family, said: if I don't want to work, I should become a priest! (laughs) He meant it as a joke, but this is exactly how it turned out.
Then let me put it this way: what was the second influence that led you to theology?
My sister, Dr. Eszter Trufán, who is now a university professor, started going to youth Bible classes. I went with her once, and there was a beautiful girl there so from then on I went too! We made a great community, about 30 or 40 of us ate about a hundred kilos of French fries every weekend! And in Marosvásárhely (Târgu Mureș), in the Reformed high school where I was studying, so many people told me that I would never get into theology, that I made it my personal ambition to get in! In Transylvania, the highest grade in school was 10, you got grades for your behavior, and I earned a 10 in that only once. I wasn't a very good kid, and I was told that if I wanted to get into theology with those grades, well, good luck!
But luck - or someone else - was with you, and you were able to continue your studies in Kolozsvár (Cluj Napoca)...
There were eight of us competing for one single place, and only 12 boys got in. But I made it, and although for a while I felt that it was someone else's dream for me to be a priest, not mine, it was such a privilege to get in that I couldn't just leave. And then they started saying that if I didn't get hit by a tram, I'd be a priest anyway...
Did America help or intervene?
At the end of my third year, I came out to work for a summer on a ‘work and travel' visa. I come from a farming family, but when I was a child the land had already no value, even though we worked a lot in agriculture. We sold what we produced on the market, it was hard manual work because in Transylvania there were no machines for everything.
I made as much in one summer in America as my whole family made in a year at home...
Were financial opportunities a big pull for you to leave for good?
After university, the same visa would not have been granted, so after a quarter of a year, I came out to the US again to "quickly" get my residence papers and then finish my theology at home. That was the plan, and that was what God wrote over. The papers took 8 years to get, by which time I had been kicked out of theology. Like the little kid in the "once upon a time" folk tales, I tried my luck. I started driving a taxi in Chicago because the people I met at the Hungarian church there all swore by it. By the time I was 28, I had a million dollars in my pocket, and although I had always wanted to be rich, I realized that it was not enough. Uber wiped out the taxi business, so I went bankrupt. By the age of 30, I knew money wouldn't make me happy. I asked myself: do I need it? Not to mention that I already had a wife, who I divorced in 2015, which meant I was also down in my personal life.
Then the only line that remained in your life was faith and religion. What did you do with it?
I felt that theology did not prepare me to stand up on Sundays to give long sermons. But in the meantime the old pastor had left, the church had no money, and I started preaching as a kind of missionary - already at the end of 2006.
That's when I realized that all people need is "just" to make friends with God.
At first, there was only a handful of people coming in, and for years I didn't even accept payment. In the meantime, we started to organize the Gulyás Festival with the community, which grew into an all-American Hungarian festival with 3-4 thousand people! Wherever you looked there was a portion of gulyás cooking in big pots. Second-generation Hungarians could experience the feeling that their parents back home probably only told them about: eating authentic Hungarian flavours and gathering around a bogrács. This was new to them because in America it is forbidden to light fires in parks, but not on church grounds! The Goulash Festival is still organized by more than a hundred volunteers who help to prepare, run and clean up afterward. These people don't all go to church, but they are connected to God on some level. It's easier to convert dollars into euros than to convert volunteer help into Bible reading, but I still believe the two can be worth the same because they are doing it for God through our community.
So more and more people became friends with God and with each other thanks to the new pastor.
And that's why I wanted to finish theology! The problem was that if I had left the country, I could not have returned legally. At first, I tried to get the whole examining board to travel from Kolozsvár here at my expense for me to take the exams, but they wouldn't even give me a reply. Then I tried the online courses at Komárom, but even there it was not accepted that the Reverend was not able to travel home to take the exam. Meanwhile, they saw the work I was doing in Chicago and told me to get a degree out here. God willing, I ended up with a degree in theology from South Carolina!
How has your modern personality been received by people who may be used to something different?
The older people opted out, they thought I was preaching too young. The young people hadn't come yet because the culture didn't include going to church as a young person. Then I got some of the simplest but greatest "evangelists":
For example, the Hungarian car mechanic called his friends and said, "What are you doing on Sunday? Come to church instead!" So bit by bit the community grew.
On an average Sunday, there are 30-40 people there. We've rebuilt the old belfry, and we toll the bell, but it's not the people who hear it that come, it's not like at home. It's true, there are not many more people at church at home either, even though the whole village hears the bells.
Meanwhile, what happened to your personal life and your living after the big crash?
I have found that God has a sense of humour. I found my living in a trucking business. And you should know that I used to dance in Marosvásárhely (Târgu Mures) in the youth group of the Maros Art Ensemble, the Napsugár. Had I not chosen theology, I could have become a professional folk dancer. In Chicago with my first wife Noémi, around 2008, we started to revive the somewhat dead folk dance movement, but after the divorce, I left it. Because it's not just about tapping your leg and spinning a girl, it's a way of life that can only be done with total enthusiasm. And my enthusiasm was gone by then. So when I met my second wife, Kata, who was born in Orosháza - in 2015 at a folk dance camp in Transylvania because I had travelled back home for that - she was happy to have found a good partner, but I didn't become her partner in the dance.
But in private life, yes. How come she moved to Chicago after you?
Kata was working as a teacher in England and already had a flat in London when I "complicated" her life. On a blank piece of paper, we wrote Chicago and London, pros and cons. Then Chicago came out as the winner, so Kata moved, even though I could have gone too. Today we have two beautiful sons.
Overall, do you feel that the church has become the strongest cohesive force for Hungarians in Chicago?
In the early 2000s, many Transylvanians like me came to the US, perhaps we had more of a religious spirit, and there was a greater need for solidarity.
It is certain that the church has a community-bonding role: not everyone comes for the sermon on Sunday, but because the person next to them is Hungarian, and they haven't spoken Hungarian all week, and can finally shake hands and talk to each other.
My grandmother wasn't a pastry chef, she didn't even have a huge recipe book, but she baked 5-10 kinds of cookies incredibly delicious! She wouldn't let me learn from her at the time, but I started baking in Chicago and bringing the cakes on Sundays for the Hungarians to sit around a plate after worship. So yes, we are making friends with God, but the cake is delicious, too! Since then, I've been doing my share of making kütőskalács (‘chimney cake’) at events. Sometimes we grill together because we have everything we need for that because of the festivals. God also glues these bits of solidarity together. Everybody wants to belong, and although some people are less active, they bring their American friends to an event to show them Hungarian traditions.
What is the main message you want to give to people in your services?
Sometimes I listen to other people's sermons. I hear them saying that you will go to hell if you drink, if you don't love your family, or if you are lazy and don't work. But do we really still have to scare people that they will burn in hell? And then there are those who only go to church twice a year, at Christmas and Easter, and get the message that it is good that you are here, but how much better it would be if you came every Sunday. It would be better, yes, but that's not what he wants to hear, because he can only come twice and that’s it. And if he hears that then, after a while he won't come at all. So I'll simplify: make friends with God! If you have an influential friend in the police force, or an established doctor, lawyer, or politician, you are proud of that saying if something needs to be done, you just tell him. All the while God is there, and we pray that the power and the glory are His, but why don't we want to make friends with Him?
If you want an influential friend, you might want to give God a chance. Others too, but Him as well. Because he's been trying to befriend you for so long...
How do you feel that being a Hungarian in other countries - Romania, the United States - has added to your personality?
I grew up in the belief, I learned from my grandmother that as a Szekler, God expects a little more from me than from others. In Transylvania, we had to stick together, anyone who was Hungarian there was a friend, and we were part of the same team. Maybe that is why the core of our community in the USA is also Transylvanian. We are trying to pass on the values to our 4 and 6-year-old children, we don't speak English at home, so they don't speak English at home either. But we know this can change in time, we see many little ones slowly stop speaking Hungarian, and then become ashamed that they can't, and then eventually they don't speak anymore. Maybe we should move home before that point, who knows? But in the meantime, the Hungarian community can count on me, because the Transylvanian blood also has that hospitality in it that makes everyone genuinely feel that it is good to be together.
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