Hallgrimskirkja

Yesterday we attended Mass at Hallgrimskirkja, the beautiful landmark church in downtown Reykjavik. It’s easy to find pictures of this famous place. It’s easy to take pictures ther. In fact, when visitors come, we the place takes our breath away. The church towers above the city, its tower steeply ascends above everything around it. When I saw pictures of this place at home, I imagined a stark coldness. The lines are sharp. It’s a hulking grey structure. But...like so much here, Hallgrimskirkja is not what it seems from the other side of the ocean. It is easy to talk a picture of Hallgrimskirkja. The picture doesn't tell what it is to be in Hallgrimskirkja. This is a space that changes you.

See, in the pictures I saw only straight lines, arranged in a climbing curve to the peak, but here, well, here the straight lines serve the roundness of the place. When I enter Hallgrimskirkja, I can't help but lean my head back and gaze at the ceiling. The columns, the windows, pull my vision up to the graceful sky of curving arches. The perspective is such that everywhere I stand, it feels like I am in the center of the place when I look up. Although the sight of the organ took my musical colleagues’ breath away, I was floating high above the floor. I could not stay focused on the walls or on the ground. The pull upward is too strong. I can breathe in Hallgrimskirkja.  The space is expansive, but not in the least way cavernous. 

See, it is easy to take a picture of Hallgrimskirkja. It is impossible to say how it is to be in Hallgrimskirkja. The space changes me. The space makes me feel free. I breathe easy in Hallgrimskirkja. 

The chancel is lovely, simple, and surrounded by small windows. Unlike many other cathedrals, there is no fancy altarpiece or colorful stained glass. There is no huge crucifix, no elaborate altar. On the chancel sits a table, some graceful chairs, two golden icons, all surrounded by those humble windows, so small in comparison to the reaching windows of the nave, that they look more like square portholes. 

After Mass, Pastor Sigurdur Arni Thordarson told us to notice how one can only see the sky and a bit of the mountains while sitting in the pew or standing in the church. He invite us to walk up the steps to the chancel, and to notice that when one is standing at the altar, the view is very different. From there, the pastor looks out on the neighborhood. The view from the altar is of buildings and cars, a little graffiti. This, he said, is to remind us that even as we look to heaven to see God, God’s eye is on us in this world. I imagine that, as a pastor, this would keep me humble. The work we are called to do in the name of Christ is for the sake of the world. Here is our place, in the grit and beauty of the everyday stuff of life. Here is where Jesus resides. Pastor Siggi said that it gets him every time, this reminder of his work. He is reminded of God’s presence in the real life of the world. 

God of gentleness and strength, thank you for the ways You show your face to us.  Thank you for the straight lines and graceful curves of this world. Thank you for the gift of imagination and the genius of artists and architects and all who strive to proclaim the wonder of Your love in various ways. Open our eyes to Your presence in everything we see, and every person we meet. Amen.