Today was a relaxed day doing tourist-y stuff in Pest. It was a welcomed break after the marathon 8 hour church fellowship of Sunday. The time together was encouraging and challenging, but draining because I was trying to understand as much Hungarian as I could, whether audible or unspoken cross-cultural clues. Plus, figuring out what to preach to a small group of international believers and unbelievers from Hungary, Romania, Nigeria, and America, while working through a translator had some challenges of its own.
Anyway, today we slept in a bit and then headed to the urban beauty of Pest. The Danube cuts Budapest in half, hence Buda and Pest. Buda (pronounced buddha) is hilly and green. It holds the Hapsburg palace, citadella and other grand spots. Pest (pronounced pesht) is flat and very dense. It’s where the parliament and other government buildings are, as well as many other attracts. The architecture of Pest oozes old-world charm. The mix of old structures with hip cafe’s and new cars produces an interesting old/modern feel.
We first went to St. Stephen’s Basilica. It was beautiful and heartbreaking. The detail and craftsmanship were astounding. The reverent atmosphere was captivating. But the gospel is not there. In it’s place are tea lamps resembling prayers for the departed which the faithful offer up…for a fee (Forints or Euros…Forints are a better deal). There are also the statues of saints with inscriptions that cry for the saint’s intercession, with the coin drop-box close by. I felt terrible for those in the pews, and those paying to pray. The need to hear of the great high priest Jesus whose intercession on the cross paid for their sins, once-for-all. The need to know his freedom, and not the bonds of man-made laws that set aside the truth of God for man’s comfort.
Well, after the main room we went to the back where they keep the right hand of St. Stephen himself. That’s right (pun intended), they have ol’ boys hand in a glass case in the back, and once a year they parade that sucker around town, worshipping the rotten thing. It’s times like today I understand why Jesus did not leave any imagery of himself behind. We would have worshipped it instead of him.
After that we headed to the top of the basilica for some crazy views of the city. The ladies sat this part out. I can’t imagine why they didn’t want to climb four stories of narrow circular metal stairs to stand on a two foot wide catwalk around the dome of the basilica.
Then we stopped at Mokka cafe, one of the many hip little cafes that dot every block. It was some of the best coffee I’ve ever tasted (Grace had a virgin pina colada that HAD to be made from the stuff tinkerbell uses to fly…it was ridiculously good). Lastly we found some street musicians…but that’s for the next post.
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