What a trip! I’m now back “home”, and have had a few days to process our journey, but am still flooded with a mix of thoughts, feelings and emotions. I can’t stop thinking about the new friends from Wartburg that I made during this trip. The generous hospitality of everyone we met in Iceland is something that is unforgettable. But the devastation in Haiti still weighs heavily on my heart. My prayers continue to be with all the citizens and rescue workers in Haiti, but especially (and maybe selfishly) with those classmates from Trinity and Wartburg and other seminaries who were there, and the family and friends of those who didn’t make it back.
Yet, being in this situation while in Iceland only added to the experience. What better community to be in when something like this occurs than with your seminary classmates? There was no better example of pastoral care, both given and received, than what happened with our group. Between the tears, the hugs, the quiet encouragement, and the prayers, I couldn’t imagine a better group to be with at that time.
My first question for this trip centered on how the church in Iceland differs from the church that I am familiar with in the USA. The established church in Iceland is Lutheran, so there were many similarities. The sacrament of baptism is a very important rite that most people take part in, many more than who worship on a regular basis, just like here. Confirmation for youth, the act of affirming their baptism, is an extremely important milestone, with a greater percentage of youth taking part than here. This emphasis of this milestone is probably comparable to graduation from high school for us. And just like in the USA, once confirmed many of the youth are never seen again inside the church. But from here the differences were what struck me. Weekly worship services and receiving the sacrament of communion on a regular basis are not necessarily typical. Some parishes, especially the in the more rural areas, may only worship every other week, or even just monthly. Many also don’t believe that communion needs to be a regular occurrence. Most of the priests we talked with don’t necessarily believe these things, but what can they do when most of their congregants do? Stewardship of money is unheard of because the money that goes to the church is taken out of the government taxes. Quite a foreign concept to us, but it seems to work (for the most part) for them.
I also learned a great deal about the role of a priest in the established church. They are a public figurehead of their community, which can be good and bad. Good in the sense that they could knock on someone’s door in their community, tell them they are the parish priest, and they would be let in. Bad because they are very much in the public spotlight and can end up on the front page of the paper if someone in their family does something wrong. But, because of this, their emphasis is more on pastoral care and not so much on programming and administration (at least from what I observed.) They tend to be more of a pastor to the people rather than a pastor to a congregation, which is something that I would certainly like to model in my ministry.
My other objective in taking part in this J-Term class was to learn what it’s like to be an outsider. I thought that going to a country where my language is not their native language and where I would have to be dependent on others for my daily needs would be a challenge. But the friendship and hospitality that we received made me feel right at home. It was certainly a wonderful model of how to treat the stranger that I hope I can bring back as well.
I can’t end without thanking our hosts, Gunnar and þora, for Guðni and Asdis for opening their home to me, and my new friends at Wartburg for opening their trip and their hearts to us non-Wartburgers. It was a beautiful trip that I am not soon to forget.
Bless!
Oh God, we are your hands and feet in this world. Thank you for those who are witnesses of your love and compassion and welcome strangers into their lives. Thank you for unique and diverse models of ministry that we are called to learn from. Bless us and send us into this world to continue the work that was started by your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.
22 January 2010
21 January 2010
Reflections
When I left for Iceland one of my questions was what it would be like to have a “profound experience of darkness,” as our syllabus puts it, and how Icelandic homes and public spaces compensate for the winter lack of sunlight. Well, we all noticed that it wasn’t nearly as dark as we thought it would be. We also noticed that there’s something luxurious about rising “before dawn” at 10 a.m. (Easy for us to say – we didn’t have to go to work!) As for the evenings, the sun set around 5 – not much different from home. And maybe it was the fantastic food and the fabulous company, but the darkness seemed full of light and life until the very wee hours of the morning.
I was also delighted to find an abundance of windows. The Icelanders know what windows should be like. The Scandinavian aesthetic of steel, concrete, and glass is lovely to behold and to dwell in, and from its low angle the sunlight is gathered and directed into homes and other buildings through huge, glassy expanses of picture windows. And all those windows seemed to boast fantastic views, whether it was the 11 a.m. sunrise, the long afternoon of pastel twilight, or the bright lights of the city gleaming at night.
Best of all, there are whole towns devoted to greenhouses, such as Hveragerði, which we passed on our way to Skálholt. Between the sun and the geothermal radiators (hot water, 100°C, piped straight out of the ground), they are able to grow not only tomatoes but also tropical things like bananas.
(Speaking of green energy, we saw one of Iceland’s hydrogen filling stations, which was right alongside the regular gas station. There was even a “line” of two cars. We also learned a bit about the possibilities of canola oil for fuel from our hostess, þóra, who is researching how the long summer days can produce bumper crops in the north of Iceland.)
Another of my questions had to do with mythology and how it influences the culture and Christianity. I didn’t see a tremendous amount of this on the surface, but I did get a few people to tell me stories about Odin and Loki and the Jotuns. I also enjoyed an evening with Anna Rún looking at the sculpture of Einar Jónsson (www.skulptur.is) in a beautiful book of photos. Many of the sculptures are highly mythological, and we had a lot of fun figuring out what they all meant. I also passed Ari’s pop quiz on Tolkien. (I was impressed at how many aspects of Icelandic landscape and culture are subtly referenced in LOTR. For example, the horses—gorgeous!!—in the myths have names that end with “fax,” which means “mane.” Just like Shadowfax. Also, if you like horses at all, you must see the Icelandic horse’s special gait, called the tölt: click.)
My third question had to do with contemplation. I said that I hoped to meditate and maybe learn a new spiritual practice. What I was really seeking was a break from the anxiety of a very stressful semester. I read this in the Poetic Edda:
The foolish man lies awake all night
and worries about things;
he’s tired out when the morning comes
and everything’s just as bad as it was.
Very true. This reminded me of Job 3:26:
"The thing that I fear comes upon me,
and what I dread befalls me.
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
I have no rest; yet trouble comes."
It’s clear that worrying doesn’t help one bit. None of us by being anxious can add at all to our span of life (Mt. 6:27). Yet, I still find myself worrying. A lot.
Two things happened on this trip that may help to change that for me. One was participating in the communion service at Skálholt by reading, in English of course, the New Testament reading for epiphany: Ephesians 3:1-12. I have never participated in any service, least of all in a foreign country in a place like Skálholt – a church that is, in a very real way, the spiritual center of Iceland. When you look at the photo at the top of this blog, you can see that this is not an old church – it was finished in the 1960s. What you can’t realize without going there is that the site is absolutely ancient, the center of Christianity since 1000 B.C.E. But when you go, and see the stone coffin in the basement, walk through the ancient tunnel to where the village used to be, when you read the names of all the bishops going back 1,000 years – you start to get a sense of the place. Participating in the morning and evening prayers there was a beautiful, meditative experience, charged with familiar phrases in a new language (Faðir vor, miskunna þú oss, Drottinn). Participating in the communion service was something I would certainly never have dared to do. Luckily, Sam didn’t give me an option. So, I had the tremendous honor and blessing of declaring the mystery of Christ before a congregation of pastors at Skálholt. I did it in a shaky, too-quiet voice, and the timing was awkward and unrehearsed, but that didn’t take away from how I felt.
The other thing that happened was the earthquake in Haiti and the death of our friend Ben. If Matthew 6:27 didn’t hit home before, it does now. I don’t want to say too much about this right now, but here are a few thoughts. He died with a song of praise to God on his lips; in our grief, we who remain are bound more closely in love with one another and in our God, whom we trust will wipe all tears from our eyes; and none of us, by being anxious, can add at all to our span of life.
Iceland was everything I hoped it would be, and so much more. Twilight, water, ice, volcanoes, horses, friends, family, songs, prayers, tears, laughter, lectures, rocks, trees, geysirs, hot springs, surf, stars, poetry, mythology, feasts, joy, and sorrow. I can’t wait to go back – probably some June.
Lord God,
You comfort us in sorrow and laugh with us in joy. Thank you for all the wonderful experiences, hospitality, beauty, and love that were showered on us in Iceland. Be with us as we mourn the loss of our friend, and bring comfort and aid to those who are grieving and suffering in Haiti. Let those of us who remain love and serve you in all we do and experience. In Christ’s name we pray. Lord, have mercy. Amen.
I was also delighted to find an abundance of windows. The Icelanders know what windows should be like. The Scandinavian aesthetic of steel, concrete, and glass is lovely to behold and to dwell in, and from its low angle the sunlight is gathered and directed into homes and other buildings through huge, glassy expanses of picture windows. And all those windows seemed to boast fantastic views, whether it was the 11 a.m. sunrise, the long afternoon of pastel twilight, or the bright lights of the city gleaming at night.
Best of all, there are whole towns devoted to greenhouses, such as Hveragerði, which we passed on our way to Skálholt. Between the sun and the geothermal radiators (hot water, 100°C, piped straight out of the ground), they are able to grow not only tomatoes but also tropical things like bananas.
(Speaking of green energy, we saw one of Iceland’s hydrogen filling stations, which was right alongside the regular gas station. There was even a “line” of two cars. We also learned a bit about the possibilities of canola oil for fuel from our hostess, þóra, who is researching how the long summer days can produce bumper crops in the north of Iceland.)
Another of my questions had to do with mythology and how it influences the culture and Christianity. I didn’t see a tremendous amount of this on the surface, but I did get a few people to tell me stories about Odin and Loki and the Jotuns. I also enjoyed an evening with Anna Rún looking at the sculpture of Einar Jónsson (www.skulptur.is) in a beautiful book of photos. Many of the sculptures are highly mythological, and we had a lot of fun figuring out what they all meant. I also passed Ari’s pop quiz on Tolkien. (I was impressed at how many aspects of Icelandic landscape and culture are subtly referenced in LOTR. For example, the horses—gorgeous!!—in the myths have names that end with “fax,” which means “mane.” Just like Shadowfax. Also, if you like horses at all, you must see the Icelandic horse’s special gait, called the tölt: click.)
My third question had to do with contemplation. I said that I hoped to meditate and maybe learn a new spiritual practice. What I was really seeking was a break from the anxiety of a very stressful semester. I read this in the Poetic Edda:
The foolish man lies awake all night
and worries about things;
he’s tired out when the morning comes
and everything’s just as bad as it was.
Very true. This reminded me of Job 3:26:
"The thing that I fear comes upon me,
and what I dread befalls me.
I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
I have no rest; yet trouble comes."
It’s clear that worrying doesn’t help one bit. None of us by being anxious can add at all to our span of life (Mt. 6:27). Yet, I still find myself worrying. A lot.
Two things happened on this trip that may help to change that for me. One was participating in the communion service at Skálholt by reading, in English of course, the New Testament reading for epiphany: Ephesians 3:1-12. I have never participated in any service, least of all in a foreign country in a place like Skálholt – a church that is, in a very real way, the spiritual center of Iceland. When you look at the photo at the top of this blog, you can see that this is not an old church – it was finished in the 1960s. What you can’t realize without going there is that the site is absolutely ancient, the center of Christianity since 1000 B.C.E. But when you go, and see the stone coffin in the basement, walk through the ancient tunnel to where the village used to be, when you read the names of all the bishops going back 1,000 years – you start to get a sense of the place. Participating in the morning and evening prayers there was a beautiful, meditative experience, charged with familiar phrases in a new language (Faðir vor, miskunna þú oss, Drottinn). Participating in the communion service was something I would certainly never have dared to do. Luckily, Sam didn’t give me an option. So, I had the tremendous honor and blessing of declaring the mystery of Christ before a congregation of pastors at Skálholt. I did it in a shaky, too-quiet voice, and the timing was awkward and unrehearsed, but that didn’t take away from how I felt.
The other thing that happened was the earthquake in Haiti and the death of our friend Ben. If Matthew 6:27 didn’t hit home before, it does now. I don’t want to say too much about this right now, but here are a few thoughts. He died with a song of praise to God on his lips; in our grief, we who remain are bound more closely in love with one another and in our God, whom we trust will wipe all tears from our eyes; and none of us, by being anxious, can add at all to our span of life.
Iceland was everything I hoped it would be, and so much more. Twilight, water, ice, volcanoes, horses, friends, family, songs, prayers, tears, laughter, lectures, rocks, trees, geysirs, hot springs, surf, stars, poetry, mythology, feasts, joy, and sorrow. I can’t wait to go back – probably some June.
Lord God,
You comfort us in sorrow and laugh with us in joy. Thank you for all the wonderful experiences, hospitality, beauty, and love that were showered on us in Iceland. Be with us as we mourn the loss of our friend, and bring comfort and aid to those who are grieving and suffering in Haiti. Let those of us who remain love and serve you in all we do and experience. In Christ’s name we pray. Lord, have mercy. Amen.
What am I doing here?
As I mentioned in my first post, the question I got the most frequently as I prepared to go to Iceland was “what are you going to be doing there?” It was a question I was never able to answer, even when I had the syllabus and trip itinerary in my hand. “I have no idea,” I would always admit. ‘What am I doing here?’ was a question I pondered my entire time in Iceland. ‘What am I doing here?’ I thought, as I sat in Boston-Logan airport on January 1st and made small talk with nine total strangers. ‘What am I doing here?’ I thought in awe, as I stared out over the majesty of Gulfoss and pondered the shifting of the earth’s plates at Thingvellir. ‘What am I doing here?’ I thought as I settled blissfully into the warm water at Kopavogur’s public pool. ‘What am I doing here?’ as I stayed up late learning about Icelandic politics and culture from my host family. ‘What am I doing here?’ as I was blessed with the opportunity to sit in on a Confirmation class and discuss who God is with twenty Icelandic teenagers, who graciously agreed to do their class in English so we could participate. And more painfully, ‘what am I doing here?’ as I watched the nine strangers who had become my friends grieve the loss of their friend and colleague in the earthquake in Haiti. ‘What am I doing here?’ or maybe, more specifically, ‘how am I lucky enough to be here?’ is a question I pondered my whole time on a small, beautiful, island nation in the middle of the north Atlantic.
I went to Iceland with one question. Well I went with many questions, but with only one “official,” course-related question. What role does religion and the church play in the culture of Iceland? I think I went with the assumption that because Iceland has a national church, the role would be sort of de facto, expected. I also think I maybe expected the experience of church to be similar to my experience of church here in America, where you are a pastor to your parishioners. From the moment we landed in Iceland, I discovered I was completely wrong. Driving in to Reykjavik from the airport in the inky darkness that first morning with a young pastor, I asked him the size of his congregation. “Oh, about 11,000,” he said off-handedly, “we’re the fastest growing parish in Iceland.” Luckily it was dark, so I don’t think he noticed my jaw drop. 11,000! Was I riding in the car of a mega-church pastor? What was he doing? That was amazing! “How many people come to worship on a Sunday?” I continued, amazed. “Oh, a hundred or so.” I couldn’t make the numbers compute in my head, but I soon learned the problem was in definitions. For the Icelandic church, this pastor’s parish was his neighborhood. Whether they ever worshipped in his church or not, he and his senior pastor were responsible for being the pastoral presence for everyone in his district. This meant providing a worship experience, but it also meant providing pastoral care, support for life transitions, baptisms, confirmations, funerals, etc. Being a pastor in Iceland is not about leading worship, thought that is also an important part of what they do, it is about being the pastor for your community. Gunnar, our host, stressed over and over again that he never asks anyone what church they go to. As long as they are in his district, they are a part of his congregation. I was incredibly struck by this. So often I am hesitant to talk about church, to reach out to others, because I assume that if they want a church, they have their own, and I don’t want to appear to churchy. Watching the Icelandic model reminded me that serving people does not have to mean dragging them kicking and screaming through the doors of a sanctuary. Jesus did not only serve the people who came to his church or heard him preach or believed in him. Jesus served everyone he came across. I pray that as I settle back into life here in the states that I remember the Iceland pastor’s service to his or her neighborhood, and that I might not be afraid to share a God who is bigger than the walls of the church building.
God of the margins. Thank you for your Son, who consistently reached out to all people, not just those who spoke or thought or worshipped like him. Thank you for the hospitality of the people we met in Iceland, who opened their homes, their lives, and their hearts to a group of eleven Americans who did not speak or think or worship like them, and taught us new ways to think, to speak, and to worship. Thank you for the hospitality of the Wartburg community, for welcoming me in as a stranger and making me feel like a part of their community. Be with all those who are marginalized and in need of feeling a part of the whole. Amen.
I went to Iceland with one question. Well I went with many questions, but with only one “official,” course-related question. What role does religion and the church play in the culture of Iceland? I think I went with the assumption that because Iceland has a national church, the role would be sort of de facto, expected. I also think I maybe expected the experience of church to be similar to my experience of church here in America, where you are a pastor to your parishioners. From the moment we landed in Iceland, I discovered I was completely wrong. Driving in to Reykjavik from the airport in the inky darkness that first morning with a young pastor, I asked him the size of his congregation. “Oh, about 11,000,” he said off-handedly, “we’re the fastest growing parish in Iceland.” Luckily it was dark, so I don’t think he noticed my jaw drop. 11,000! Was I riding in the car of a mega-church pastor? What was he doing? That was amazing! “How many people come to worship on a Sunday?” I continued, amazed. “Oh, a hundred or so.” I couldn’t make the numbers compute in my head, but I soon learned the problem was in definitions. For the Icelandic church, this pastor’s parish was his neighborhood. Whether they ever worshipped in his church or not, he and his senior pastor were responsible for being the pastoral presence for everyone in his district. This meant providing a worship experience, but it also meant providing pastoral care, support for life transitions, baptisms, confirmations, funerals, etc. Being a pastor in Iceland is not about leading worship, thought that is also an important part of what they do, it is about being the pastor for your community. Gunnar, our host, stressed over and over again that he never asks anyone what church they go to. As long as they are in his district, they are a part of his congregation. I was incredibly struck by this. So often I am hesitant to talk about church, to reach out to others, because I assume that if they want a church, they have their own, and I don’t want to appear to churchy. Watching the Icelandic model reminded me that serving people does not have to mean dragging them kicking and screaming through the doors of a sanctuary. Jesus did not only serve the people who came to his church or heard him preach or believed in him. Jesus served everyone he came across. I pray that as I settle back into life here in the states that I remember the Iceland pastor’s service to his or her neighborhood, and that I might not be afraid to share a God who is bigger than the walls of the church building.
God of the margins. Thank you for your Son, who consistently reached out to all people, not just those who spoke or thought or worshipped like him. Thank you for the hospitality of the people we met in Iceland, who opened their homes, their lives, and their hearts to a group of eleven Americans who did not speak or think or worship like them, and taught us new ways to think, to speak, and to worship. Thank you for the hospitality of the Wartburg community, for welcoming me in as a stranger and making me feel like a part of their community. Be with all those who are marginalized and in need of feeling a part of the whole. Amen.
What an experience in Iceland! As I have mentioned before, the generosity and kindness we received was overwhelming. Hopefully there will be a time in the future when we can reciprocate the experience for our friends as they venture over the “pond” to America.
Before we began our journey, we were asked to come up with a question or two that would help us focus our learning while in Iceland. My question centered on the current economic conditions facing Iceland is facing and how this crisis is affecting the Icelandic Church in regards to funding of programs and outreach. What I learned was far more involved than just the current economic situation. Iceland’s church structure is far different then what we are accustomed to in the United States.
In Iceland, the Evangelical Lutheran Church is the “established” church of Iceland. The current funding arrangements between the State and the Church were originally established in 1907 and reviewed in 1998. What was set forth from this agreement was the State gets the churches property in exchange for the State paying for 139 pastors’ salaries. Because of this arrangement, pastors are ex facto State employees. In addition to this, each church receives 600 kroner per member per month from a tariff collected by the state. This monthly amount pays for church operations and other similar expenses.
Because of this tariff, offering is not collected during church services. This lack of offering raised some concerns for me as an individual. It is my opinion that offering is an integral part of one’s faith practice. Offering is a disciplined, intentional act of giving back a percentage of what God has blessed and bestowed upon us as individuals. Even though there is a collection of offering via the tariff it runs counterintuitive to what I believe to be an integral part of one’s faith practice. But regardless of my opinion, the system works for the Icelandic Church.
On a completely different note, I want to take this time to share a difficulty of mine during this journey. So often we are accustomed to giving that the thought of receiving goes by the wayside. But sometimes one needs to learn how to accept overwhelming and unearned generosity and kindness. This is exactly what occurred to me on this trip to Iceland. The kindness we received cannot be explained in words. There were those who opened their homes to us for two weeks, fed us more then we could eat, explained the customs of their homeland, and taught us the fellowship of brothers and sister in Christ. This is one of the unexpected outcomes of this trip for me.
Gracious Father,
I thank you for the experiences and friendships that have come from this two week journey. It is an experience that will last far longer than two weeks. I pray that the ideas we shared between us will help to strengthen Christ’s church in Iceland and America. May our brother and sisters in Christ continue to learn from each other and the ideas and experiences we gather and share be used to bridge gaps between nations.
In your blessed name we pray, Amen.
Before we began our journey, we were asked to come up with a question or two that would help us focus our learning while in Iceland. My question centered on the current economic conditions facing Iceland is facing and how this crisis is affecting the Icelandic Church in regards to funding of programs and outreach. What I learned was far more involved than just the current economic situation. Iceland’s church structure is far different then what we are accustomed to in the United States.
In Iceland, the Evangelical Lutheran Church is the “established” church of Iceland. The current funding arrangements between the State and the Church were originally established in 1907 and reviewed in 1998. What was set forth from this agreement was the State gets the churches property in exchange for the State paying for 139 pastors’ salaries. Because of this arrangement, pastors are ex facto State employees. In addition to this, each church receives 600 kroner per member per month from a tariff collected by the state. This monthly amount pays for church operations and other similar expenses.
Because of this tariff, offering is not collected during church services. This lack of offering raised some concerns for me as an individual. It is my opinion that offering is an integral part of one’s faith practice. Offering is a disciplined, intentional act of giving back a percentage of what God has blessed and bestowed upon us as individuals. Even though there is a collection of offering via the tariff it runs counterintuitive to what I believe to be an integral part of one’s faith practice. But regardless of my opinion, the system works for the Icelandic Church.
On a completely different note, I want to take this time to share a difficulty of mine during this journey. So often we are accustomed to giving that the thought of receiving goes by the wayside. But sometimes one needs to learn how to accept overwhelming and unearned generosity and kindness. This is exactly what occurred to me on this trip to Iceland. The kindness we received cannot be explained in words. There were those who opened their homes to us for two weeks, fed us more then we could eat, explained the customs of their homeland, and taught us the fellowship of brothers and sister in Christ. This is one of the unexpected outcomes of this trip for me.
Gracious Father,
I thank you for the experiences and friendships that have come from this two week journey. It is an experience that will last far longer than two weeks. I pray that the ideas we shared between us will help to strengthen Christ’s church in Iceland and America. May our brother and sisters in Christ continue to learn from each other and the ideas and experiences we gather and share be used to bridge gaps between nations.
In your blessed name we pray, Amen.
20 January 2010
Emerging from a crisis
Early on in this amazing trip to Iceland, Dr. Dan Olson defined a crisis as "something from which you cannot emerge unchanged." In so many ways that defines my experience traveling throughout Iceland. What an wonderful country with equally wonderful people and culture.
I entered this adventure with two questions to guide my thoughts and quickly generated many more. I found myself fascinated both by the differences and similarities between Icelandic and American cultures. I found that seeing reminders of what I already knew regarding how the church should be, as seen through the lens of someone else, equally as powerful as those which were entirely new.
My questions were as follows. One, how does the darkness affect how people see and experience God and two, how does the apparent isolation from both Europe and North America affect church attendance? What I found in both was mostly a non-answer, but still interesting topics to explore. On the issue of darkness, it turns out that Icelanders pay little attention to it. They have quite literally adapted genetically and therefore don't seem to care that it is dark longer and likewise in summer that its light longer. Of course having geothermally heated swimming halls and fabulous food may help soften the blow. But what was more interesting was how they viewed God. Now I won't presume to understand all Icelanders but unlike in the US, Icelanders view certain sites as holy ground, like at Skalholt and Thingvellir. Also the church, an established one at that, is a part of the culture and even the politics; such as the opening session of the Althing, or parliament. So, what I observed were a people who placed God in the national conscience, but that didn't necessarily translate into weekly service attendance.
I think that in every case we saw in the Reykjavik area, parishes had large numbers of members, but actual people in seats on Sunday was 1% or less of those members. This truth was also reflected in their church buildings, which were built to hold a large funeral, but could not possibly hold even half of their respective members. Now what I learned as the cause of this was the following. Culture, family pressure, and tradition dictate that Icelanders are baptized and in most cases confirmed in the church. But what seems to really influence this loss of attendance in early adulthood is the fact that confirmation is made to be like a graduation in the US. Most Icelandic teens receive a huge party and $1000-$5000 dollars plus gifts for being confirmed. This creates a feeling that church is something you've completed and don't need to bother with again until you have your own children to put through.
However, regardless of ones attendance record, everyone knows to which parish they belong and which priest to call should they need help. So in answer to my question of how does the geographic separation affect church attendance, I can say confidently that it does not influence it at all; instead the structure and culture of the national church shapes this issue.
So what else did I learn in Iceland. A lot. I cannot possibly post all of the incites and observations I made during this trip. However, it is absolutely true that the models of behavior, generosity, and spirituality seen in Iceland have caused a crisis in me. Some serve as reminders of how we in this global church of Christ are to act toward all and still others, through the silence of not understanding the language, serve to deepen and strengthen my own spiritual growth. Iceland may be my first culture to deeply reflect on theologically, but it will not be my last because out of this crisis I cannot go backward.
Good and Gracious God. I first thank You for the tremendous expressions of Christian love that Your servants in Iceland showed us. I pray that Your many blessings will continue to fall upon their waiting hearts. I also pray, as this trip while safe for us, did bring with it the sting of profound loss and grief. Thank you for Your servant Ben and all those in Haiti who were Christ among us. Be with us now and aways as we live in and profess Your love as so many of the saints before us. Remind us of the lessons learned in Your global church and guide us to do Your will. In Christ's name I pray, amen.
I entered this adventure with two questions to guide my thoughts and quickly generated many more. I found myself fascinated both by the differences and similarities between Icelandic and American cultures. I found that seeing reminders of what I already knew regarding how the church should be, as seen through the lens of someone else, equally as powerful as those which were entirely new.
My questions were as follows. One, how does the darkness affect how people see and experience God and two, how does the apparent isolation from both Europe and North America affect church attendance? What I found in both was mostly a non-answer, but still interesting topics to explore. On the issue of darkness, it turns out that Icelanders pay little attention to it. They have quite literally adapted genetically and therefore don't seem to care that it is dark longer and likewise in summer that its light longer. Of course having geothermally heated swimming halls and fabulous food may help soften the blow. But what was more interesting was how they viewed God. Now I won't presume to understand all Icelanders but unlike in the US, Icelanders view certain sites as holy ground, like at Skalholt and Thingvellir. Also the church, an established one at that, is a part of the culture and even the politics; such as the opening session of the Althing, or parliament. So, what I observed were a people who placed God in the national conscience, but that didn't necessarily translate into weekly service attendance.
I think that in every case we saw in the Reykjavik area, parishes had large numbers of members, but actual people in seats on Sunday was 1% or less of those members. This truth was also reflected in their church buildings, which were built to hold a large funeral, but could not possibly hold even half of their respective members. Now what I learned as the cause of this was the following. Culture, family pressure, and tradition dictate that Icelanders are baptized and in most cases confirmed in the church. But what seems to really influence this loss of attendance in early adulthood is the fact that confirmation is made to be like a graduation in the US. Most Icelandic teens receive a huge party and $1000-$5000 dollars plus gifts for being confirmed. This creates a feeling that church is something you've completed and don't need to bother with again until you have your own children to put through.
However, regardless of ones attendance record, everyone knows to which parish they belong and which priest to call should they need help. So in answer to my question of how does the geographic separation affect church attendance, I can say confidently that it does not influence it at all; instead the structure and culture of the national church shapes this issue.
So what else did I learn in Iceland. A lot. I cannot possibly post all of the incites and observations I made during this trip. However, it is absolutely true that the models of behavior, generosity, and spirituality seen in Iceland have caused a crisis in me. Some serve as reminders of how we in this global church of Christ are to act toward all and still others, through the silence of not understanding the language, serve to deepen and strengthen my own spiritual growth. Iceland may be my first culture to deeply reflect on theologically, but it will not be my last because out of this crisis I cannot go backward.
Good and Gracious God. I first thank You for the tremendous expressions of Christian love that Your servants in Iceland showed us. I pray that Your many blessings will continue to fall upon their waiting hearts. I also pray, as this trip while safe for us, did bring with it the sting of profound loss and grief. Thank you for Your servant Ben and all those in Haiti who were Christ among us. Be with us now and aways as we live in and profess Your love as so many of the saints before us. Remind us of the lessons learned in Your global church and guide us to do Your will. In Christ's name I pray, amen.
wrapping it up
Dang: How to wrap up two weeks of awesomeness in a single blog post? Maybe I’ll start with the assignment.
So, the first question I wanted to explore had to do with how “Lutheran” the Icelandic Church is and to what extent the people express that identity. I learned through my reading (here I’m referring to Haldor Laxness) that the church became Lutheran sort of overnight with a change of government. Given that, I wondered how seriously people took the adjective “Lutheran.” Turns out, things weren’t quite as simple as Laxness’s characters and narrator seemed to imply. We learned that many people in Iceland were excited about the news of the Reformation and were keen to implement some of the changes. I won’t delve too deeply into issues I don’t understand, but there were some beheadings of Catholic officials at Skálholt related to this. The curious reader can look this up. Interesting history. In any case, the mass conversion seems to be a bit of a mixed bag, but over time, people seem to have more or less “gone with it.”
I don’t know that anyone would necessarily call himself Lutheran, per se, nor did I find many people referring to the Confessions (bless you for that, by the way, Icelanders!). Furthermore, church structure seems more “Catholic” than what I am used to seeing in the States (i.e. the dominant model is concerned more with parishes than with congregations, bishops seem to have more “authority” there than here, the liturgy would be considered very “high church” to the American Lutheran observer).
In the end, I’m not sure how important it is to the everyday person to think of himself as a “Lutheran,” as such. I observed genuinely Christian diakonia, hospitality, and (in terms of the Haitian crisis) readiness to respond simply because it was the right thing to do. I think that’s more important than being a Confessions-quoting Lutheran. Not mutually exclusive, for sure, but priorities must be observed.
My second question had to do with the role of traditions (such as food) in terms of shaping national identity. Would Icelanders lose something if they didn’t “get” to eat rotten shark, rams’ testicles, whale blubber soaked in sour whey, smoked tongue and sheep-head cheese? As an outsider, my inclination is to say that the only thing they would stand to lose would be the common experience of being culturally “hazed,” like some kind of a frat-prank. But as I think more about it, and after talking to Gunnar, it seems deeper than this. When Gunnar told us that the taste of the whale fat took him back to childhood, I made the connection. This is a deeply ingrained tradition – a continuity over time that reminds people of where they came from. These are survival foods, and I think that there’s something primally important about remembering how close we all are, in spite of modern technology and sensibilities, to survival mode. It’s a close tie with the land and the sea as resources for life. And the way the Icelanders shared these traditions with us was beautiful, even if as insensitive Yanks, we couldn’t always fully appreciate it.
My last question had to do with maintaining a sense of identity in the face of modernization and the tension between staying traditional for the sake of drawing tourists and the desire to have the “finer” things. To a large degree, this question was ill-conceived. Icelanders, for the most part, are city-folk. Tradition remains in the language, the foods and customs mentioned above, and things of that nature. It’s not the same as in Ireland where one thinks of stone fences and thatched rooves (OK, spellcheck: “roofs.” Whatever.) as cultural holdovers from 2 centuries ago. Certainly both countries draw tourists based on the natural beauty of the landscapes. I also saw some parallels between how Ireland’s west coast has been commercialized (see my post on the Cliffs of Moher and the ridiculous “virtual cliff experience” in the unnecessary visitors’ centre) and how some of Iceland’s naturally stunning areas like Gullfoss and Geysir (and the whole concept of the Blue Lagoon) are somewhat defaced by tourist shops where one can buy a crappy hamburger from a guy whose only two languages are Russian and English. But I think, for the most part, this question was a wash. I owe it to my ignorance of Iceland prior to my trip. Now that I think of it, I’m still quite ignorant. More trips in the future will be necessary to right this atrocious wrong. Anyone want to help me fund some travel?
So, for good or ill, those were my 3 questions. But even more than those things, what will remain foremost in my mind is the generosity of the people we met (in the face of economic uncertainty), the welcoming hospitality of those same folks, the companionship of my fellow travelers, C3PO getting his picture taken at some of Iceland’s holiest sites, our hosts’ sense of humor (Q: “Where are we?” A: “Well, first you’re on Earth, then you’re in Iceland.”) and a bajillion good memories of the faithful people of God’s church in Iceland. I hope it doesn’t conjure too many negative connotations when I say, "Guð blessi Ísland.”
18 January 2010
J-term Wrap-up
Well, here I am back in the great state of South Dakota where I began my posting journey. Being home is bitter sweet. I am glad to be with my friends and family in a place I love, but I miss the people of the great land of Iceland. The loss of Ben and disaster in Haiti also weigh heavy on my heart.
I started this journey with three questions; with twenty hours of darkness in the winter, how is Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) combated within Iceland and what is the Church's role in fulfilling this wholeness? How has the recent economic turmoil affected the nation of Iceland and further, the Icelandic Church and how it ministers within the country? And finally, what role do Icelandic sagas, poetry, and literature have in the Modern Icelandic Church?
The first question I think went unanswered because though SAD may be a problem in other places the reasons given by wikipedia.org (a fish diet and genetics) is largely a legitimate answer. Our host Gunnar even brought up the genetic phenomenon off the cuff early in our stay. Frankly, the Icelanders have been doing this so long they've had to adapt or suffer the consequences.
The second question has a little more substance to it. I hope that I've adequately described the financial situation in the Icesave post. Things went from really good to really bad in a few days, so quite obviously there is a lot going on and in reality the pastors as public figures and leaders have a lot on their shoulders. At the lectures at Skalholt, Dan touched on the subject in an honest way that surprised all of us, including Dan. In reality, this crisis provides the church an opportunity to help Iceland reshape its identity.
Financially, the Church's connection to the state has been helped and hampered by the crisis. They haven't had to worry about decreased tithing or offerings because with the exception for a collection for specific ministries and missions, offering isn't taken. At the same time, the state has decided to tax the tariff that they collect to help fund the established church, other religious organizations, and University. So, though people have to give the same percentage of income towards the church, the church is seeing a little less of that now. What Iceland is seeing now within the church is more special ministries to help those who are having trouble making rent and putting food on the table. The only problem is that charity is sometimes hard for Icelanders to accept.
Dan identified a crisis as an event that a person cannot come out of the same, i.e., they will have to redefine themselves. What the pastors of the established church in Iceland have in front of them is a great opportunity and responsibility to help their nation reform its identity.
Finally, I must say that I really enjoyed exploring the tip of an iceberg of Icelandic literature. Some of our assigned reading included Hranfkel's Saga (Don't worry, it's unpronounceable to me too,) and Iceland's Bell by Nobel Prize winner Halldor Laxness. There is much more and if Bill Holm (an American author writing about his experiences in Iceland) is correct an Icelander is either a poet or an athlete. The main church in Reykjavik is named after one of the most famous poets/pastor in Iceland, Hallgrimur Petersson. But with all of this literary history, my question remains unanswered.
I think that in the modern church you would find that stories of trolls and elves, of the hidden people, and of the former Norse gods have slowly worked their way out of the life of the church. In the earlier days when many of the sagas were written, within the period of Christianity but remembering the Settlement Period before then, a person reading these sagas could find the melding of these two worldviews. Now though, a more poetic nature has usurped these sagas and eddas. Storytelling still may play an important part in relating life as displayed at Skalholt one evening, whether that is of the Hidden People, or of John's recounting of the feeding of the 5,000.
One part of the literary history that we were able to experience was the liturgy. Morning and evening prayer at Skalholt was a wonderful experience where we got to try our tongue at singing beautiful Icelandic chants. Much of the Liturgy is sung; so much so that if you're a pastor and you can't sing, you'll be provided with lessons from a professional opera singer named Jon, (nicknamed Nonny). Iceland is a nation that values its poets and this can be most seen within the song books and liturgies that are still used today.
Readers, it has been a joy doing this blog, and even more of a joy going to Iceland. It was truly a cross cultural experience and it was wonderful to see the Church Universal alive and welcoming in Iceland.
God of the Nations, I thank You for the wonderful opportunity to spend time in Iceland. I thank You for the wonderful people who overflowed with hospitality. I thank You for the Universal Church ministering all over this earth. I ask for your blessings upon the people of Iceland and Your continued presence with the people of Haiti and with our community at Wartburg Theological Seminary. Amen
I started this journey with three questions; with twenty hours of darkness in the winter, how is Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) combated within Iceland and what is the Church's role in fulfilling this wholeness? How has the recent economic turmoil affected the nation of Iceland and further, the Icelandic Church and how it ministers within the country? And finally, what role do Icelandic sagas, poetry, and literature have in the Modern Icelandic Church?
The first question I think went unanswered because though SAD may be a problem in other places the reasons given by wikipedia.org (a fish diet and genetics) is largely a legitimate answer. Our host Gunnar even brought up the genetic phenomenon off the cuff early in our stay. Frankly, the Icelanders have been doing this so long they've had to adapt or suffer the consequences.
The second question has a little more substance to it. I hope that I've adequately described the financial situation in the Icesave post. Things went from really good to really bad in a few days, so quite obviously there is a lot going on and in reality the pastors as public figures and leaders have a lot on their shoulders. At the lectures at Skalholt, Dan touched on the subject in an honest way that surprised all of us, including Dan. In reality, this crisis provides the church an opportunity to help Iceland reshape its identity.
Financially, the Church's connection to the state has been helped and hampered by the crisis. They haven't had to worry about decreased tithing or offerings because with the exception for a collection for specific ministries and missions, offering isn't taken. At the same time, the state has decided to tax the tariff that they collect to help fund the established church, other religious organizations, and University. So, though people have to give the same percentage of income towards the church, the church is seeing a little less of that now. What Iceland is seeing now within the church is more special ministries to help those who are having trouble making rent and putting food on the table. The only problem is that charity is sometimes hard for Icelanders to accept.
Dan identified a crisis as an event that a person cannot come out of the same, i.e., they will have to redefine themselves. What the pastors of the established church in Iceland have in front of them is a great opportunity and responsibility to help their nation reform its identity.
Finally, I must say that I really enjoyed exploring the tip of an iceberg of Icelandic literature. Some of our assigned reading included Hranfkel's Saga (Don't worry, it's unpronounceable to me too,) and Iceland's Bell by Nobel Prize winner Halldor Laxness. There is much more and if Bill Holm (an American author writing about his experiences in Iceland) is correct an Icelander is either a poet or an athlete. The main church in Reykjavik is named after one of the most famous poets/pastor in Iceland, Hallgrimur Petersson. But with all of this literary history, my question remains unanswered.
I think that in the modern church you would find that stories of trolls and elves, of the hidden people, and of the former Norse gods have slowly worked their way out of the life of the church. In the earlier days when many of the sagas were written, within the period of Christianity but remembering the Settlement Period before then, a person reading these sagas could find the melding of these two worldviews. Now though, a more poetic nature has usurped these sagas and eddas. Storytelling still may play an important part in relating life as displayed at Skalholt one evening, whether that is of the Hidden People, or of John's recounting of the feeding of the 5,000.
One part of the literary history that we were able to experience was the liturgy. Morning and evening prayer at Skalholt was a wonderful experience where we got to try our tongue at singing beautiful Icelandic chants. Much of the Liturgy is sung; so much so that if you're a pastor and you can't sing, you'll be provided with lessons from a professional opera singer named Jon, (nicknamed Nonny). Iceland is a nation that values its poets and this can be most seen within the song books and liturgies that are still used today.
Readers, it has been a joy doing this blog, and even more of a joy going to Iceland. It was truly a cross cultural experience and it was wonderful to see the Church Universal alive and welcoming in Iceland.
God of the Nations, I thank You for the wonderful opportunity to spend time in Iceland. I thank You for the wonderful people who overflowed with hospitality. I thank You for the Universal Church ministering all over this earth. I ask for your blessings upon the people of Iceland and Your continued presence with the people of Haiti and with our community at Wartburg Theological Seminary. Amen
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