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A community on the margins:
At 11 a.m. on a sunlit Sunday, the heavy doors in the massive belfry of Nederluleå church in Gammelstad Church Town in Sweden slide open. From within the thick walls issue the deep, sonorous chimes of the cast-iron bells to call the faithful to worship, as they have done for centuries. They are joined shortly thereafter by the higher-pitched chimes of a second set of bells located at the top of the belfry. For many minutes the two-toned harmony rings out into the clear, crisp air. It is a sound familiar and ancient, reaching deep into soul and memory. For many, it is the very sound of faith itself. On this particular Sunday morning, however, there’s something out of the ordinary going on. There are people inside this church – quite a few of them, in fact – and Tom Rutschman, a longtime worker with Mission Network who lives in Sweden, is frankly puzzled. Most Sundays, hardly anybody would be sitting in the pews. The state Lutheran churches, such as this one, are among the most deserted. A look at the marquee outside the sanctuary quickly clears up the mystery. There, among the flyers about regular worship times and an upcoming series on the music of Mendelssohn, a small leaflet announces that today is Confirmation Sunday. It’s one of a handful of church-related occasions that draw 2-6 percent of people in northern Sweden who still attend church. All over Europe, the symbols of a once-powerful church are visible in the beautiful cathedrals that still dominate the skylines of virtually every city and every village. Today, due to a variety of influences, those symbols have largely lost their meaning. Christian scholars have long recognized that Europe is rapidly becoming a post-Christendom culture. Although it takes many different forms, post-Christendom culture can be broadly defined as one in which the basic tenets of the Christian faith are unfamiliar to the vast majority of people living within that culture, and where the church traditions that once guided daily life have all but disappeared. “There is an incredible hunger for spiritual answers in Europe today,” said Rutschman, a middle-school teacher in Jokkmokk. “Unfortunately, most people look in the wrong places, such as New Age activities.” He’s not speaking of mere abstractions. A New Age community has been buying up homes in a nearby town. Characterized by its cult of positive thinking, some locals dismiss it as the Poof! Movement (as in, “Poof! Your problems are gone!”). Nevertheless, the cult joins a stew of other problems in Jokkmokk that already have made witnessing about one’s faith difficult. Chief among these is a general indifference to the Christian worldview. In response to the spiritual hunger he sees, Rutschman has been leading Alpha groups, informal gatherings where people are invited for a meal and discussion of a basic Christian concept. Many participants have made confessions of faith during the 15-session course. He added, however, that many people don’t attend church after making the initial commitment for fear of what their friends will think. He hopes the addition of Beta groups, which take new converts to the next level, will help address that challenge. In Spain the official church has experienced a similar fate to that of Sweden. “Nearly everybody is nominally Catholic,” said Dennis Byler, a worker with Mission Network based in Burgos. Connie and Dennis Byler have lived there 24 years; they serve in a supportive capacity to the leadership of the handful of Mennonite churches in Spain. He also teaches at a seminary near Madrid. She teaches English part-time and works with a hospice center for people living with AIDS. “When you ask people what their religion is, they’ll say Catholic,” Dennis Byler said. “They have some knowledge of doctrine from school. A fairly large number have their children take communion, which requires catechism. But most people don’t take their faith seriously.” Also in this issue: Features Related articles Regular features |
