There is too much piety and too little true faith. I have too much flamboyance and not enough shame. There is too much judgment and too little deeply lived morality. There is too much fake offense, fake zeal and not enough sympathy and loyalty.
Is anyone still curious about hell, about the many sins, so that when they get to know them, they hate and regret them? To go through purification and reach the world of beauty and grace. Or are we already drowning in arrogance, in the reasoning and self-righteousness of the billions of little "man-gods"? To the agonizing wait, waiting. That someone will come who somehow unites people and nations and ensures peace and tranquility between them. Is anyone curious about the resurrection, the cornerstone of our faith, or rather forget about hell, the Inferno? And the thousand terrible bare chords sound.
There is too much piety and too little true faith. I have too much flamboyance and not enough shame. There is too much judgment and too little deeply lived morality. There is too much fake offense, fake zeal and not enough sympathy and loyalty.
There has been too much of everything lately, and the reason for this is that there is little or very little left of the most important ones. There is an immeasurable amount of empty chatter, and there are hardly any real thoughts, feelings and actions left. There is a mock debate, mock conversation, mock competition, mock expertise in every forum, and no agreement, harmony, harmony, or even compromise is created.
The goal is not harmony or agreement, but discrediting, defeating, annihilation. The rumor goes on day and night, there is a lot of truth, a lot of revelations, a lot of "investigations", but strangely enough, we do not get even one step closer to the truth, the reality, the real reasons for what is happening.
This is false lordship - indeed! It's just monkeying around. Too much talking, not enough to say. "Humble yourselves, you proud man!" bellows Dostoyevsky from below.
Everything has become too much lately.
Too much politics, or at least what they say it is. Gossip, lying, hating, witting, threatening. Everyone says, knows, dares, and would do it, and almost can. The self-proclaimed saviors talk and say pseudo-verbs on every forum, they divide the mind due to lack of ability, knowledge, and information.
There is too much ambition, too little ability.
They recruit armies - and there is always an army, the army likes to gather around - if there are twenty people, you can photograph a crowd, if there are a hundred thousand, it doesn't mean anything. There are too many stages, and there are the wannabes who say nothing, even those who came do not believe them. There are also too many virtual stages where "content producers" reason, "analyze", and predict. Palmistry once made more sense. They single each other out. There are too many of them, and that's why we feel that the real content is completely disappearing. Everything is an illusion. Where did the primeval power go? Time is almost killing me. "The purpose of every crime hated in heaven is to hurt others," says Dante Babits in the Hungarian words of Mihály.
It's too much money. Not exactly ours, but the ones we hear about. It flows abundantly in many directions. Millions, billions. State employees, local government leaders, football players, musicians, celebrities, actors, majors and chief knights, representatives!
What achievements! Resistant to plasters. "For little detours." Hundreds of tricks. And my favorite is the "competitive sphere", the "market", whose costs are paid by whom? Of course we do. Oh, the inflation! The whole world is a huge cartel. It's scary to even hear about the million-dollar incomes, because nothing is worth a million-dollar monthly salary, especially not goals, points, seconds. Neither do a million viewers in cinemas.
There is too much money somewhere, and therefore too little for so many.
Hence the constant frustration. Somehow we still manage. We live, eat, drink, heat, read, watch TV. We can also love, shake, go crazy. Many of us have cars, we could even travel, but we no longer go to Szentendre, because it is depressing that we cannot go further. The most depressing thing is that we don't even want to go there anymore. What a damn trap.
We see too many pieces of the world that never come together; there is too much infinity, and we no longer even perceive infinity; there is too much self-serving science - also in my own field - and in almost every field, because the goal is not correctly assigned.
The meaning of existence cannot be deciphered with science, and artificial intelligence will certainly not do it. If so: may God have mercy on us.
There are too many theorems, too much science, and peace does not come from science. This is a terrible contradiction that can be resolved, but only if science is accompanied by the reassurance of a commitment to the good. All great naturalists know and feel this. There is too much work, but there is hardly any result, and a lot of "work" no longer makes sense. Employment is not work.
Too many people also make a living from the sports business. I'm not talking about the little guys. You can't even hold them back. The U8 hockey team. From the gorse around them. But the guys still go out to play soccer on the artificial grass. I see them here on the shore of the lake. The youth coach leads from the middle. The task: to kick the ball as big as possible. I'm happy for them. They have jerseys, special pike, artificial grass. The recliner is relaxed. Feri doesn't look there. But will this be a game? Such a real time-wastering, after-dark game.
Too many acquaintances, not enough friends. There are hardly any friends anymore. Sentences bursting into noise. An expert tells you what to do when the wind blows. News: one hundred and fifty-four people were killed; the party chairman and his wife give a program; cute panda bears were born in the Beijing Zoo. There are too many burned-out cities, obsessed officials, imaginary patients. There are too many dead who are still roaming here trapped between the above and the below in my soul. There are too many strangers in my room. A girl or a bird, a wraith on the wall, a strange light on the doorknob, a big bird playing the harp in the corner, death itself with blood, flesh, bones and skin on the face of the clock.
Too much giggles and not enough cheer. There is too much talent scouting and too little talent. There is a lot of noise and little song, a harmony that turns into a song from the depths of the heart with soul and ideas. There are too many played-out emotions, eye-rolling, and hypocrisy. Too much news and too little message. There are too many writers and hardly any literature.
There are too many guns. They talk about war, hardly anyone about peace. However, there are many compelling reasons in favor of the fact that there is no question of war. And next to the war? It's all meaningless, pointless arguments. Economic benefit. Some kind of prestige. Domestic political gain. Electoral success. Reputation. They should know that war equals death. An extensive, great world war: with total destruction. Peace equals the possibility of life. With development. With the future. It's as if people have gone mad in many places, everyone knows what the truth is, but no one dares to say it. He is afraid of his position, he is afraid that the "liberals" will torture him to death. There is too much fear, petty pitiáner fear, and that is why they do not fear God.
There are too many false enthusiasms and false messiahs. Meanwhile, we do not notice that the savior is here with us, in our soul, which is nothing but the center of human culture. Place of birth. Peace and harmony. A song from the heart. A true word. A well-hit move. The enthusiasm of little boys. The correct political position. Constancy and loyalty. Pure love. The child, the tiny child hanging from its mother. Patriotism: what is home and what is homelessness. The blind crowd, alienated from God, is waiting. He has been waiting for a long time, in his disbelief, he has been waiting for a thousand years, he is waiting and waiting, and every now and then he wants to be enthusiastic and celebrate. Everything that looks like redemption. These enthusiasms are accompanied by terrible disappointment. With disappointment. With a terrible stench. By violence. Sins with everything.
Thank you, Jesus, for lifting the agonizing wait! And we are not in the Inferno, unbaptized in love, food and drink, money, and temper. We are not gloating and living in bullshit; heretics, infidels. Violent, tyrants, murderers, robbers. Suicides, vandals of our property. We are not blasphemers, against nature, or unnatural lusters. Neither are offenders against the arts and crafts, usurers, or frauds. Traitors. (Those who deceive those who trust them.) They are down there, in the depths, even if they are still here on the stages.
Up on earth it is dawn: Holy Saturday.
The author is a historian
Featured image: Nagy Bogi
