As I write this, we’re watching an Icelandic movie at
Gunnar’s house. I think it’s about a gang stealing cars, but since the movie is
in Icelandic, and I’m writing a blog instead of reading the subtitles, I’m not
following it all that well. You had a chance to hear a bit about our travels
here from Paul, as well as our trip to Skalholt. It might be worth mentioning that
Skalholt is the historic
cathedral of the Icelandic national church—in the Icelandic mind, it’s one of
the holiest sites in the country. It’s also where the last Roman Catholic
bishop of Iceland was beheaded, along with two of his sons (apparently Iceland
was far enough from Rome for the clergy to ignore certain regulations, like
celibacy). We spent a very enjoyable day and a half there. A group of Icelandic
pastors gather at Skalholt during the week of Epiphany each year for the Priests’
Academy*, and for “Holy Chaos” in the evening, which Paul mentioned. Icelandic
Lutheran pastors, like American Lutheran seminarians, enjoy a drink or two with
colleagues when they get the chance, and we gladly joined in the fun (even the
Theisses, who, as you read in Paul’s post, turned in rather early and were in
bed by 3 AM). Among the pastors we
met was Gunnlauger, an elder statesman type, with the rich English accent of an
Oxford don (Icelanders generally speak excellent English, but Gunnlauger's speech is distinctive), an apparently encyclopedic knowledge of Icelandic history, and
plenty of strong opinions. He also had some good cigars and a deep interest in
liturgics, so naturally Gunnlauger and I were instant friends. For that matter,
everyone we’ve met in Iceland so far has been impressive, and wonderful, and I
regret that I won’t get the chance to write about more of them. On our way from
Skalholt to Halldora’s farm (via Geysir, Gullfoss, and Hekla), Steven and I rode
with Axel, a country pastor with a bone-dry sense of humor and a passion for
the natural landscape of southern Iceland. He told us about the proposed
hydroelectric dam near his farm that would drown an almost unimaginable swath
of the wilderness under a reservoir, and the other environmental impacts of
Iceland’s “clean” hydroelectric energy. He drove us over another hydroelectric
dam, high in the mountains, and showed us a gigantic dry canyon, the former
riverbed that had been diverted for that dam. There are voices in Iceland that would even have the
magnificent waterfall Gullfoss turned into a dam to generate electricity. As an
environmentalist, it’s a difficult debate for me. Is it worth sacrificing part
of the landscape to generate energy more cleanly? I don’t have a good answer,
but I can say that Icelanders see the value of their incredible landscape—there
is a sacredness to places like Geysir, Gullfoss, the vast, empty fields of lava
and ice, and wide open valleys between severe mountains. I can’t do it justice
in writing, so I’ll suggest that you visit.
O God, creator and sustainer of all things, we give you thanks for wild places and new
friends. Give us open eyes, ears, and hearts as we explore this land, and grant
that we may continue this journey in a spirit of adventure and curiosity. In
the name of your Son Jesus Christ we pray. Amen.
*In Iceland, like in other Nordic countries, Lutheran pastors are usually referred to as priests (prestur).
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