A few days ago, I read this article about what is considered to be the northernmost church in the world: a Lutheran one, oddly enough, on the Svalbard archipelago of the Arctic Circle (I’m sure I’m the only one who couldn’t remember from geography class what an archipelago is, but just in case: “an area that contains a chain or group of islands scattered in lakes, rivers, or the ocean (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration)). One of those places that not only includes extreme temperatures and light, or lack thereof, but also extreme ways of human survival. Along those lines, one of its main economic sources of stability was a mining company over the past century, which has recently closed.
Svalbard Church, a part of the Church of Norway (which is one of the Lutheran bodies as part of our Lutheran World Federation in which our Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) is a member of), is the only community of faith in the area. And so, it welcomes numerous children of God from various backgrounds of religious expression: Lutheran, Roman Catholic, Orthodox, just to name a few, but also those aren’t so sure about the existence of God. And yet, there is such a great appreciation of the church as a community center of sorts, providing a refuge for people in all forms of desire and longing and need.
As the wider church continues to navigate its identity, its mission, its purpose, its overall place in the world that we believe is changing rather rapidly (although it seems as if we’ve been saying that for a while now), I wonder is Svalbard Church offers its own needed voice to consider: a refuge amidst the extremes of worldly operation. Granted, how Svalbard Church carries out its own precious part in the universal body of Christ will not always work in other just-as-precious parts. For example, one of its rather unique forms of ministry operation (unfortunately, it is unique now) is keeping its building open 24/7, perhaps as a way to provide a physical and spiritual and mental refuge, but a powerful symbolic reminder that God is always open for human-intertwined-with-divine “business” all…the…time.
However, one way a Lutheran church in the Arctic Circle can connect with a Lutheran one in America, or probably anywhere else for that matter, is that following an evening worship, they invite people to stay for waffles. Because we know that church has its way of offering spiritual refuge in a designated time for a worship that “begins” with a prelude and “ends” with a postlude, and we know church can fulfill its needed roles in Bible study and weddings and funerals, but sometimes the space set aside for people to be all the more invited to let their pre-conceived guards down about how churches always operate and what a supposedly guilt-shaming God demands, not to mention all the extremes of our human running of earthly things; and just let the precious children of God sit and eat and laugh and enjoy a glimpse of what God envisions for a “feast and celebration when all of Creation [will sing] for joy.” Plenty of things may rapidly change, but I have a feeling that cherished fellowship for Christians and those not-so-sure will never change. For in those just-as-holy moments, we extend grace and compassion and the very love of God from the sanctuary to the fellowship hall (or wherever else), across the tables, and into the very hearts of those still yearning for refuge. Amen (so let it be!).
In Christ,
Pastor Brad
Although the most recent article came from a different publication, one about Svalbard Church is also available through Living Lutheran from 2022:
www.livinglutheran.org/mission-ministry/part-of-the-society/