The Forgetful Church: An Update

There are two major differences between my last little experiment concerning prophecy and this one. One being that this venture is in a language I am unfamiliar with. Thus, it much more difficult for me to draw conclusions about what I see since I don’t know what people are talking about. And the second is that I have many more responsibilities here on the ship that can get in the way of me actually fulfilling my objectives than compared to back home; hence the somewhat delayed update.

After several false starts and booked up Sunday mornings, I finally was able to get out to the Sct. Nicolai Kirke (the church out in the center of town). The Sunday I had chosen also happened to be one I was not allowed to leave the ship; not allowed to leave, that is, unless I found a person to fill my stand-by watch keeper role while I was ashore. I found someone, informed the authorities, and headed out on foot at 9:25 am.

At 9:30 am the church bells began to ring. They began to ring and I had just crossed the street to head into town. I must have left closer to 9:27. At any rate, I was late. I began to feel as though I was back in school and as I was walking to class, the bell began to ring. My reaction is one of, “Oh crap! The bell’s ringing,” and, also like in school, not to walk any faster.

As I got to the door of the church, the bells stopped. Good timing I guess. I stepped inside because it was bitter cold out. The “lobby”, for the lack of a better term, was empty. Obviously, all the people were already inside doing whatever it is Danish people do in church. I decided to wait and see if anyone else would arrive late. I wasn’t terribly late, just 3 or 4 minutes, and someone else would have to be late as well.

Turns out there was. A lady strolled in with a stroller complete with child and I saw a tremendous opportunity. She couldn’t handle the door to the sanctuary by herself; not with child stroller in hand. I’d go and hold it open for her, then I could slip in behind. Awesome.

I did this. I opened the door, she said, “Tak (thank you)”, and I looked inside. Completely empty. Not a single person besides the lady, the child, and me. This could be awkward I thought. Turns out it wasn’t entirely; the service didn’t actually start at 9:30 like I thought. The church only opened its doors at 9:30; the service was at 10. Lucky me, half hour early. I exchanged uneasiness with the person handing out the Danish hymnals (I not speaking Danish and she thinking I spoke Danish) and looked for a seat. (So many to choose from!)

Turns out this is not your normal seat looking routine either. The pews were situated in a fashion I had never seen before. There were 4 columns of them and in each row was a door leading to a booth of some kind. One bench was facing the front and the other the back. These were the pews, little booths with doors. It was like being in a restaurant minus the table; you might even be able to get a good supply of communion wine if you were good.

This type of seating allowed for some good observing. One observation I made was that of the children in the audience. They all sat with their respective adult chaperones (although I did find out at the end that there was a designated toy area in the back of the church for the little ones. Guess where I’ll be next week?) and the most peculiar behavior. It looked so familiar to me. In fact it almost looked like either I was imitating them or they were imitating me. They looked like they had no idea what was going on. The service was in Danish; I had no idea what was going on. Any small distraction immediately caught their eye and the same went for me. It was nice to be reacting to things on a 4 year old level again.

The children were again involved at a later point in the service. There was a child’s baptism and the minister called all the young children to the front to watch; they were of course accompanied by their parents. This was also interesting to observe. With all the tradition in the church up until this point, it seemed strange that the children would be involved in such a way. I guess it shows the church places particular importance on children.

One thing that happed during the service was a lot of, what seemed like, standing up and sitting down. Seeing how I couldn’t understand any words that were spoken, I couldn’t really catch why we would stand up when we did, and we only sat down when the minister gently moved his hands in a downward motion near his midsection. I tried to gauge if it was for songs or prayers or what, but one song we’d be sitting and then the next we’d stand. He’d be talking and in the middle we’d all stand up, then, still in the middle, sit back down. No rhyme or reason that I could detect. Maybe it was to keep people awake?

Overall it was a good first experience. I wasn’t completely shunned or mistaken as a tourist barging in on their religious ceremony. I even felt a little welcomed with my awkward exchange when I first entered the sanctuary. The pipe organ and choir accompanying the whole service was awesome. The minister would say something and the choir and organ would respond musically and then the minister would keep on going. It made for a pretty cool and interesting atmosphere.

Tune in for thoughts on this coming Sunday’s service where I brave the sub-zero (Celsius) temperatures and see if a church built in the 13^th century has a satisfactory heating system.