Béla Kató arrived in Illyefalva by chance on 1 May 1988. Prior to coming here he had served for eight and a half years in the village of Cófalva, also in Kovászna county. “I had to change on account of my family situation”, he begins to tell his story, which blends with that of the village. My wife was teaching in Sepsiszentgyörgy and our children also had to commute to attend nursery and school. So it occurred to us to try to find a congregation closer to Sepsiszentgyörgy.”

thus Béla Kató was elected pastor of Illyefalva with only a small majority.

After these preliminaries, it was hardly surprising to him that on the occasion of a celebration, some of the villagers took offence when he asked those who had not supported him to bake a pastry for the occasion. “I explained to people that I am the pastor of everyone in Illyefalva, and that for me people are all the same, and we all have to stick together”, Rev. Kató recalls the events of the time. Strangely enough, it was not he but the communist authorities who managed to bring about solidarity in the community.

At Béla Kató’s initiative, an empty granary was transformed into a place of worship for the winter, without having applied for any official permit. Under the dictatorship there was little chance of getting approval for such a venture. In December 1988, the Communist Party representatives showed up and, on the grounds of the absence of a permit, dragged the minister through the mire. “They took me down to the Securitate [state secret police], confiscated my salary, and tried everything to make life impossible for me”, recounts Béla Kató, adding with a smile: “the Lord knows why he metes out blows to someone.” But the village, seeing the oppression exercised by the dictatorial government, unanimously stood up for its pastor,

and went from door to door collecting money for the minister’s salary,

and from then on, the enmity between the two camps came to an end.

At the time of the change of regime in 1989, euphoria was mixed with anarchist impulses. Béla Kató, who for four months after the fall of communism served as the mayor of Illyefalva, tried to put a break on these anarchist sentiments. “These reactions would simply play into the hands of the thieves”, he reasoned with the villagers. Thus, for instance, they divided up the communal grain in such a way, that for half a year everyone paid only the cost of baking the bread. In March 1990 – well before the relevant legislation had been passed – he began to organise democratic elections, and at the end of March,

based on the law code of the Reformed Church, a mayor and a council of 12 aldermen were elected.

It was at this time that a flood of aid began to arrive from the West, and it was the church that was asked to distribute the donations. “Distributing the goods fairly caused a lot of headaches, as there were always some who were unsatisfied, and the process caused jealousy and conflict between people”, the pastor continues telling the story. When Béla Kató recognised that the stream of donations was causing more harm than good, he put a stop to the shipments. “I explained to the donors that this would simply make beggars of the local people, that this is not the Third World here, but a people that has always been capable of providing for its own needs, and that what they need support for is to be able to do so once again,” he said, citing the classic analogy of giving people a fishing rod instead of a fish. At the same time, Rev. Kató himself saw and felt that the people of Illyefalva had not yet become fully aware of what an enormous change the fall of the dictatorship meant in their lives. “The revolution was like a film that people watched on television”, he describes the common attitude of the time. “To get from that point to taking action required a long journey.”

It was then that he had the idea that what was needed was a symbol, and he began to think about renovating the crumbling, depressing castle church; “To do so would also lend credibility to my preaching, since

it would prove that it is possible

to achieve results”, he thought. But it was difficult to imagine then that anyone would give money for rebuilding a castle, since this was far from being a priority. That was why he added the plans for a summer camp. In the summer of 1990 he was able to persuade people in Switzerland to support the idea, by then been transformed into a feasible project. A group of Swiss confirmation candidates began to collect money for the purpose, and soon the necessary amount had been raised. “I came home with 120 thousand Swiss franks raised by the confirmands tied around my belly”, Béla Kató recalls. This sum would serve as the seed money for KIDA, the Christian Youth and Diaconal Foundation. “No one ever called me to account for how I spent the money, but I was never tempted to use it for anything else. There are opportunities that only come once in a lifetime”. Béla Kató claims to this day that

in financial and moral matters you must remain irreproachable,

otherwise it is easy for someone to be blackmailed. “Everything depends on this”, he asserts with conviction. “If you keep your hands clean, you can reproach others and refuse their advances; otherwise they will weaken you and you will be lost. To date I have succeeded in everything I undertook.” The pastor of Illyefalva raises the issue of enforcement as well. If someone is afraid only of the police and worldly authorities, he can always hide from them. “But if I don’t steal, it is not because another person may find out, but because I will be held accountable from above – Béla Kató says, alluding to the Almighty. “For everyone can be tempted, but a true faith will keep you and the straight and narrow. And if the gate should be closed, the Good Lord always opens a mouse-hole. I have always believed that

evil is not destiny but simply a state.

That is why I don’t really remember disappointments or failures.”

It is for this reason that the pastor firmly believes in the future of the Sekler region. He is convinced that one cannot and should not empty out this region, for a life of human dignity can be lived only in community. If no one with vision, strength and faith remains here, the region will be lost, he says. The real challenge is to create suitable conditions in the midst of the plains, this is what gives meaning to life. “I am still the pastor of Illyefalva, a country vicar, if you will”, says Béla Kató. By this I mean to say that what matters is not how prominent someone is. I can talk just as easily with the Swiss minister of foreign affairs and with Uncle John down the road. Although I can see the differences between a Sekler and a Swiss village, I believe that

people are the same everywhere.”