A
short digressive introduction on why I plan for my contributions to
this series to be on saints of Northern Europe:
I’ve
always had an interest in the Nordic countries and felt some kind of
kinship with what I imagine to be their spirit, or their spirit in
former times. I speculate that there may be a genetic connection: as
far as I know my ancestry is entirely English and Scottish, but which
of the various strains that came together in those countries I don’t
know, and it’s certainly possible, perhaps likely, that there is
some Scandinavian blood in there. At any rate, the attraction has
existed. And moreover the only significant time I’ve ever spent
outside the USA was in northern Europe: one summer comprising two
weeks in rural Denmark, a few days in Sweden, six or eight weeks in
rural Finland, and ending with in London. It’s a long story,
irrelevant to this topic, but suffice to say I was young and that
summer made a big impression.
These
lands came late to the Catholic Church and left early, jumping to
Lutheranism and other forms of Protestantism at the first
opportunity. Thus there are relatively few Swedes, Danes, etc. among
canonized saints, and they tend to be less well-known compared to
those of more southern regions. My sympathy for the northern
temperament inclines me toward interest in them. And for the same
reason I regret the loss of these lands and cultures to the Church.
Although their re-evangelization seems a pretty distant possibility,
I don’t want their place in the Catholic heritage forgotten.
End of
introduction.
Of all
the countries we refer to as Nordic, Finland was probably the least
Catholic, now and historically, and that of course makes it not very
Catholic at all. And Finland, as you may or may not know, is not a
Scandinavian country. Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and Iceland share the
ethnic and linguistic heritage that we know as Scandinavian. Finland
does not. Nor is it Russian, as its proximity to Russia might suggest
(Helsinki is only 150 miles or so from St. Petersburg). The near
relatives of Finns are to the south, across the Gulf of Finland, in
some of the other regions around the Baltic, particularly Estonia.
The
Finnish language has very little relationship to any other widely
spoken European language. By way of illustration, count to ten in
Swedish:
en,
två, tre, fyra, fem, sex, sju, åtta, nio, tio
You
can see at least some connection with many other European languages.
But in Finnish:
yksi,
kaksi, kolme, neljä, viisi, kuusi, seitsemän, kahdeksan, yhdeksän,
kymmenen
I have
to start my account of St. Henrik by noting that he is one of those
saints whose very existence has little or no contemporary historical
support, nor is he among the formally canonized. Yet his legend and
devotion to him are deeply rooted, and there seems no reason to think
that they aren’t based on fact.
First,
like St. Patrick of Ireland, St. Henrik , or Henry, of Finland was an
Englishman. In 1153 he was sent to Sweden and became bishop of
Uppsala (Sweden). The Swedes know him as St. Henrik of Uppsala. From
there he was sent to evangelize Finland, which was still mostly
pagan. And there he was murdered. I don’t think his death really
constitutes martyrdom in the sense that he was killed directly
because of his faith. But it was his faith that put him where he was,
so maybe it qualifies.
The
traditional story is that the murderer was named Lalli, although
Lalli’s wife Kerttu was the instigator. Henry is said to have been
travelling by sledge in winter, in southwestern Finland near Lake
Köyliö. The location is plausible, as it’s fifty miles or so from
the coastal town of Turku, a seacoast town and the oldest town in
Finland, where a visitor from Sweden would likely have arrived. He
stopped at the home of Lalli, who was not there, bought some
provisions from Kerttu, and continued across a frozen lake. Lalli,
returning home shortly thereafter, was told by Kerttu that Henrik had
stolen the goods. No reason for this lie is given. We might speculate
that Kerttu’s having received a male visitor provoked Lalli’s
jealousy, and that she lied to say that she was coerced. At any rate,
Lalli, enraged, followed Henry across the lake and killed him with an
ax-blow.
The
legends dwell to a great extent on the rather severe punishments
received by Lalli. He is said to have taken Henrik’s mitre and
placed it on his own head. But when he tried to remove it, his scalp
came with it. Other stories describe a similar misadventure with the
bishop’s ring, which caused the flesh to fall from the finger on
which it was placed. And Lalli is said to be skiing in hell while
Henrik sings in the heavenly choir.
Unfortunately
there is literally nothing to say about Henrik’s theology or
spirituality, no specific lessons to be learned from any words he
left behind, nothing except what might be surmised from the bare
facts, if indeed they are facts. If nothing else, these make him a
pretty determined evangelist: sledding around Finland in winter
instead of staying warm and well-fed, as would certainly have been a
bishop’s prerogative.
Henrik
is the patron of the Turku Cathedral, which was originally built in
the 13th century, and was then and still is “the most
important religious building in Finland”, though of course it’s
now Lutheran. Turku, was the original seat of Christianity in
Finland. The cathedral in Helsinki is named for St. Henrik, but as it
was built in the 19th century doesn’t look a great deal
like what we generally think of when we hear the word “cathedral.”
Even in very-predominantly-Protestant Alabama there are many parish
churches that are larger.
How
small is the Catholic Church in Finland? Around 9,000 people in a
population of over 5 million. (That figure is from Wikipedia; I also
ran across a news story that put the figure at 12,000.) In contrast,
very-predominantly-Protestant Alabama, with roughly a million fewer
people, has somewhere around 165,000 Catholics.
How
weak is the Catholic Church in Finland? So small that the
ordination of a Finnish-born priest in 2014 was only the sixth since
the Reformation. And even he is not ethnically Finnish: his name
is Hamberg, and he is part of the Swedish-speaking minority in
Finland which is the product of the intermittent domination of
Finland by Sweden over the centuries. (Russia has also ruled Finland
for long periods, and the Orthodox Church in Finland, while also a
small minority, is larger than the Catholic.)
As it
happens, just this past January, on the occasion of the traditional
feast day of St. Henrik, Pope
Francis received a delegation of Finnish Christians—Lutheran,
Orthodox, and Catholic. Here
is a video of part of the event. In addition to referring to
“Helinski”, the reporter says that there are 120,000 Catholics in
Finland, which makes me think he misread the 12,000 number. Neither
the video nor the photo at the Vatican site identify most of the
participants, and I really wonder about those apparent women
religious on the left. I think it’s safe to say that both the
Catholic and Lutheran bishops are ethnically Finnish.
Maclin Horton is the proprietor of his own blog Light on Dark Water from which sprang this series. You might want to check out the current series there, 52 Movies or last year's 52 Authors.
Maclin Horton is the proprietor of his own blog Light on Dark Water from which sprang this series. You might want to check out the current series there, 52 Movies or last year's 52 Authors.
St.
Henrik, pray for the conversion of Finland, and all the lands of
Northern Europe.
If you want to see all of the posts in this series, click HERE.
In case it's not clear from the text: the photo is of the little Helsinki cathedral, not the one in Turku.
ReplyDeleteOh, that wasn't clear to me, but then, I was in a rush when I posted it.
ReplyDeleteAMDG
Do you mean women religious on the right? They look like Bridgettines. I'd guess the women on the left are Protestant pastors of various types.
ReplyDeleteYes, I meant the ones on the right. I assumed what you say about the others. Brigittines would certainly make sense.
ReplyDeleteThis may be the only internet comment of 2016 which compares numbers of Catholics in Finland and Alabama, Mac. For that alone it is worthy of consideration and placement in this series. :)
ReplyDeleteI'm guessing this is them.
ReplyDeleteSkiing in hell -- now that's an image!
ReplyDeleteAbout the Finnish language: I once worked with an American of Finnish descent whose last name was Hahto. I thought it sounded Japanese. Just did a search and it seems there may be a connection between the two languages.
I used to have a Nokia cell phone, which I assumed was Japanese, then I saw a 60 Minutes episode on them or something like that and they are Finnish!
ReplyDeleteI too assumed Nokia was a Japanese company, till I read a bit about the company somewhere. I think it's actually the name of a town. The Japanese connection with the language is fascinating. I'm surprised to learn, via that same article, that Finns are genetically closest to the Flemish, because I've always thought they tend to have an ever so slightly Asian look.
ReplyDeleteYou're probably right, Paul, that those are the Brigittines who sent delegates to Rome. Here is something about the new saint who is credited on their home page with reviving the order.
ReplyDeleteI read the report about her planned canonization in the Catholic Herald a few months ago, and didn't put two and two together.
ReplyDeleteSkiing in hell. I wonder when (if ever) the Nordic peoples stopped thinking of Hell as a frosty place.
ReplyDeleteLook! An actual conversation on my blog. Oh happy day!
ReplyDeleteAMDG
You've probably jinxed it now ;)
DeleteThere's a passage in something by Sigrid Undset with a description of a vision of hell. I've been trying to remember where. Maybe Vigdis Gunnarsdatter?
ReplyDeleteI guess that's the same book I know as Gunnar's Daughter--if so, I don't remember that, but it's been a long time (25+ years) since I read it, so I could have forgotten. Even longer since I read Kristin Lavransdatter, and a much longer book, so the fact that I don't remember it from there, either, doesn't mean a whole lot.
ReplyDeletePresumably so. I read it in Dutch (don't know if that's any closer to the original Norwegian; at the time I was semi-seriously considering trying to learn Norwegian). I don't think it can be more than 12 years ago in my case. If I haven't got things mixed up, there's a passage where a priest tells a story about abandoned babies, and part of the story is a description of a vision of hell.
Delete