Sacrifice

Let’s talk about the Memorial Day for the Victims of Communist Dictatorships. I often say that I am a child of the dictatorship. I was born in 1976 in Romania, in Szeklerland. I lived the first 14 years of my life in a shortage economy as a target person of a godless and inhumane regime that wanted to take away my mother tongue, my native culture, my community and my religion.

So, when, in the midst of the Romanian Socialist Republic in the 1980s, I took my first holy communion in Szekler attire and read the Gospel in Hungarian in a ringing voice, it could even be interpreted as a freedom fight. But it wasn’t, it wasn’t a symbolic gesture against the national-communist regime. It was more than that: a natural manifestation of accepting our shared fate. At least I experienced it as natural, because according to my paternal grandmother, it couldn’t have been otherwise.

My paternal grandmother, as a Catholic woman from Lövéte, presided over the extended family. She was guided by a few simple truths in her life: family comes first, the Sun rises so we must rise too because we have to work if we want to live, and they wanted to live so they worked, and Bishop Áron Márton was a holy man.

I don’t know any Szekler who would dispute this. We don’t need Rome’s seal for this; it’s our certainty that it’s true.

As a child, Áron Márton seemed to me a mythical hero, ranking somewhere beside Prince Csaba in status and importance.

But before 1990, we didn’t talk about how the Romanian authorities imprisoned him and then kept him under house arrest.

We didn’t talk about how many other priests and laypeople were imprisoned, sent to forced labor, or murdered besides him.

We didn’t talk about why the Securitate harassed god-fearing people and why a humane attitude seemed unusual.

We didn’t talk about why someone doesn’t go to church, even though that’s where they should be.

We didn’t talk about how the communists deny and desecrate our God.

We Szeklers are not talkative people by default, but this silence was of a different kind.

It meant although we don’t say it, we know the truth.

My first communion in Szekler attire meant: whatever the communist power wants, we live according to our own truth. Because this is what Bishop Áron Márton taught us. That one can choose to live differently, but only this way is worth it.

And thanks to this, a generation after the fall of the communist dictatorship, in a world falling apart, we Szekler-Hungarians know: as long as we light candles on All Souls’ Day at the graves of our grandparents, great-grandparents, ancestors, and heroes in the cemeteries of Szeklerland and Transylvania, we are at home in God’s Fairy Garden.

And as our other Áron, our prince of writers, Tamási, also said: this is why we are in the world.

Let us remember with reverence and grateful hearts all those who made our God-given freedom livable in our birthplace and homeland. Let us live so that we can tell them before the face of the Lord: you did not fight and die in vain.

Notes:

Historical context:

The text refers to the communist era in Romania (1947-1989), particularly focusing on the 1980s.

“Memorial Day for the Victims of Communist Dictatorships” is observed on February 25th in several former Eastern Bloc countries.

Geographical and cultural references:

Szeklerland (Székelyföld): A region in Transylvania, Romania, with a significant ethnic Hungarian population.

Transylvania (Erdély): A historical region in Romania with a complex multicultural history.

Lövéte: A village in Szeklerland, mentioned as the author’s grandmother’s place of origin.

Religious and historical figures:

Áron Márton (1896-1980): A Roman Catholic bishop in Transylvania, known for his resistance to both Nazi and Communist regimes.

Prince Csaba: A legendary figure in Hungarian folklore, said to return from the stars to protect the Szeklers in times of danger.

Cultural practices:

First communion in Szekler attire: Emphasizes the preservation of cultural and religious traditions under oppressive conditions.

Lighting candles on All Souls’ Day: A tradition of remembering the dead, here used as a symbol of cultural continuity.

Political references:

Romanian Socialist Republic: The official name of communist Romania from 1965 to 1989.

Securitate: The secret police agency of communist Romania, known for its repressive tactics.

Literary and cultural allusions:

“God’s Fairy Garden” (Tündérkert): A poetic name for Transylvania in Hungarian literature, emphasizing its beauty and cultural significance.

Áron Tamási (1897-1966): A significant Hungarian writer from Transylvania, referred to as the “prince of writers”.