Praying in the Rain

Today is a big day on the Catholic calendar, but an even bigger day for Szekely Hungarians.  Today is Pentecost.  On this day, Hungarians from around the world make a pilgrimage to a small village, Csiksomlyo, about 20 minutes from my site here in Romania.  It all began in 1567 when the Hungarian king, Sigismund Janos tried to convert the Szekely population to Protestantism.  The Szekelys had none of it, resisting the reformation and sticking to the Catholic faith.  A battle took place near the village on Pentecost Saturday in 1567.  The Szekelys won and the Fransiscan monks, who called Csiksomlyo their home saw this victory as a sign of the care of Virgin Mary.  Ever since, believers have made the pilgrimage on Pentecost to show and share their faith.

The present church's construction began in 1802.  The foundation of the old Fransiscan monastery was used to build the church.  The church contains a wooden sculpture of Virgin Mary, known as Weeping Mary.

Weeping Mary statue

The church and the pilgrimage have become more than sign of religious faith.  It has become a symbol of Szekely brotherhood and Hungarian nationalism, especially after the nation was divided.

The church at Csiksomlyo, from a previous visit

That's the history, now here's my story.  Ever since my arrival at site, I had heard about this pilgrimage.  I didn't really understand what happened other than people visited the Weeping Mary statue and then climbed the mountain.  I did a little research, which you see above, so I could better understand this event.  I had been anticipating this time of year for nine months, I can honestly say my first experience with this event was not good.  How would you feel being woken up by horses clomping, people talking, and church bells ringing on and off from 5 am until your alarm goes off for the last few days?  I can tell you from experience, you won't be happy.  I got over it eventually.

View of a small part of the crowd from the village where the car was parked

Yesterday, the anniversary of the battle against Protestantism, I traveled to Csiksomlyo with my counterpart and her husband.  Some people choose to make this pilgrimage by foot, some from as far as Hungary!  Each of the Szekely villages contributes a small walking army of pilgrims, including my own village.  We drove closer to the church, but still had to walk two villages, so I got enough of feel for the pilgrimage.  The closer we got to the church the more packed the street became with people selling their wares.  Everywhere you looked there were stalls selling jewelry, leather wares, hats, wooden decorations, and kurtoskalacs of course :)  Apart from some kurtoskalacs ad Pepsi, we saved the rest of the shopping for after mass. 

View back down the mountain

So we kept following the throng of people walking up the mountain.  Silly me forgot to take my inhaler before coming...a few stops along the way up were warranted.  My counterpart's husband needed the rest too, he just pretended not to ;)  With each step I could only think "how much farther?????" 

During our second break, can't see the altar yet!

Chapel about halfway up the mountain

The altar, we were pretty close

The crowd behind us...amazing.

Finally we stopped as close as we could get to the altar.  Mass had already begun, or so I imagine....I couldn't really understand, haha.  I have never experienced something like this.  There were thousands and thousands and thousands of people everywhere I turned.  Even though I couldn't understand much of what was going on, I could feel brotherhood, faith, and pride emanating from the crowd.  Each village parish gathered around a banner upon which their village saint and symbols were emblazoned.  There were about fifty or so priests who walked through the crowd to distribute communion, but you can imagine that only a small portion of the crowd was so lucky.  Through all of this, it was pouring rain.  My little American raincoat only lasted one drenching, so during the ensuing three onslaughts of rain, from my shoes to my sweatshirt to my underwear I was soaked through.  After the Hungarian and Szekely national songs, mass was over and the journey down the slick, muddy mountain began.  How my counterpart, her husband, and I managed to keep together, I don't know, but we did.  I will say I give Adidas major props for their running shoes, I got down that mountain without any major incidences.  After making it down the mountain it was time for shopping.  Here the rain dampened our spirits a bit, we got what we "needed" and that was it.  During this time I really enjoyed looking at the banners from all the different places people came from.  There was even a group from New York!  I unfortunately didn't see them, my counterpart's husband did, or else you better believe I would have chased them down!  After making our purchases we began the trek through two villages back to the car.  Finally I made it home.  After 5 hours of walking, climbing, and standing I took a well deserved early evening nap and contemplated my day.

View of Miercurea Ciuc before heading back down the mountain...look at those clouds!

Throughout the day today I have heard horses and hand bells, followed my village church bells ringing.  Each time I run out to my balcony to watch the procession of pilgrims going back to their villages.

The group from my village completing the pilgrimage

This is why I have always loved learning about new cultures.  Events like these make each culture special and worth preserving.  To all the people who fight for assimilation, I give you this story as my argument for cultural preservation.  When I was standing at the top of the mountain amidst thousands and thousands of Hungarians proclaiming their faith and nationalism, I was never so happy to be where I am.  I am truly blessed to have experienced the things I have experienced, the places I have seen, and the holy sites I have visited.  This day will surely be one I never forget.  I can't wait to go back next year :)