The village is quiet, not a soul stirs, the time is right. On the street, there is only an old man in his beckets and bacon hat. He passes in front of the small graywashed church. He doesn't even look at her, but raises his hat. He enters the gate three houses away and closes the gate when the bell rings. Mente raises his hat again and disappears behind the door.
This scene stayed with me only because I realized how much respect this man had for God and the church. The number of his years may have been around eighty, so as they say, he socialized mostly in the cursed and yet he preserved his ancestors' respect for God.
I thought about how many beautiful customs have already died out. Increasingly, the address "Dear Sir" can only be discovered in literature, for example. What a noble word that is! We could say that these are out of date. However, respect is not a matter of eras, just as faith is not, since the crucifix cannot be looked at differently during the year than at Easter. Just as it would be good to preserve the Easter traditions for our descendants, so that over time they are not only reminded of them by trivialized tourism shows.
We guard the sacred secret of our faith in the ceremonies thanks to the venerable priests, but we also deserve and must protect the folk traditions - sprinkling, comatose, etc. – because that's the only way our entire faith and life will be complete.
Featured image: Szentjakabfa.hu
