Ivesti and the home of Gypsies

The street…seems not worthy of the houses

Might be for a family of four.

Main hallway, balcony above.

Bed with gold nightstands.

Dateline: Ivesti, Romania; November 1-3, 2013--On 27 October I was invited to speak before all of the pastors and elders from the Moldavian Conference in a large hall in the city of Bacau. Moldavian is not Moldova; there are various zones in Romania, somewhat like our states or counties in the USA. There is Moldavia, Transylvania, Dobrogea and Ardeal and probably a few more. I was told there were over 500 people attending the meetings. When I finished my talk and before I could leave the hall, I was invited to speak in the village of Ivesti the following weekend.

Let me first explain ”village.” Eastern Europe is sown liberally with these gatherings of buildings and homes insulating short stretches of highways in otherwise farm country. There will be no traffic signals, no crosswalks, no street lights; just a corridor of walled yards and occasional stands offering excess produce for sale. ALL yards have either a fence or more commonly a solid wall of either stone or metal. But attached to nearly every wall there is a bench. When I was growing up every house had a porch and people sat on them and greeted neighbors as they passed by or watched the children play. Over here the old folks sit and talk about what old people talk about, mostly the past I am sure as there isn’t much future left for most of them. On summer evenings, everyone is out.

Growing up we had some “burgs” that approximated these quaint throwbacks from a more pastoral time. Chasetown, the last gathering of dwellings before our farm was one of them. Mt. Orb another. But today, whereas there are some in the USA, they are the rare exception. I tell people over here their rural areas remind me of America 50-60 years ago. And frankly, this is a compliment.

Ivesti is one of those villages. I was guest in a lovely home with a young son who spoke very passable English so I had a good companion. Friday night I spoke in one church and Sabbath morning and evening in another. After the evening meeting, a group of five Gypsies came to me and invited me to speak at their church the next morning. You see, four of them were Pentacostals and they apparently enjoyed my talk. I have heard the gold is missing from Ft. Knox but I think I found some of it. I have never seen a whole mouth full of golden teeth. It is quite startling and I had to concentrate on looking them in the eye, not the eye teeth.

About Gypsies, they have two types over here...at least. One person told me there are Gypsies with houses and Gypsies with horse-drawn caravans. Someone else told me there are Gypsies who wear broad-rimmed black hats, and others who do not wear hats. Then there are Gypsies who live in opulent extravagance and some live in unspeakable squalor. I have seen the squalor but never the opulence. This trip I did.

I spent hours preparing a message for a Pentecostal, Sunday-keeping Gypsy church; no easy task. Early Sunday morning I was told they had forgotten the church was having the Lord’s supper that day and so my services were not needed. But that afternoon my host took me to the Gypsy side of own.

Three houses, one each for two brothers and one for dad.

I have been in some nice houses in America and other parts of the world, some even veritable mansions, but nothing could have prepared me for this. The road was not paved but rather paved with well-packed gravel. And on each side, from behind intricately constructed wrought-iron fences, loomed Bel Airesque edifices giving mute testimony that not all Gypsies are raggedy vagabonds looking for mischief. To add to the surprise, I was welcomed as a valued guest. After all, how many Americans wander down this street in Ivesti with a look of dumb wonder all over the face. Then I was invited into one of the homes, then another and then another. With this post I have included a few pictures. The first is a street scene, the second of an unfinished home, the third of a front yard of three homes belonging to two brothers and their father. Then there are some indoor pictures. While talking to a gathering of the Gypsies on the street, I was introduced to the king of the Gypsies. A very influential man indeed.

The furnishing in the homes, and the one brother who was showing us through his home, would rattle off the cost and origin of the furnishings. A dining room suite, hand crafted in Italy, 25,000 Euro. A bed and night stand, 8,000 Euro. The base of the night stand was gold. Of course not solid, but plated. The marble pillars, the intricate curtains, the exquisite inlaid tile flooring; it was all overwhelming.

Ivesti was great but viewing those mansions made me wonder just how much more wonderful the mansions in heaven will be, and God has one for every person who accepts the payment price for those mansions and our souls; the blood of His Son, Jesus Christ. God grant that we all might be there soon.