Revitalizing the Norwegian Church: A Call for Change and Inclusion

As one of the few women with above-average melanin content in my skin, I occasionally attend Sunday services in our dear state church. In the church I usually go to, a small group of middle-aged men and women, mostly of Norwegian ethnic origin, gather. When we meet, we nod cautiously to each other—if you are lucky enough to make eye contact with someone. People are usually most concerned with looking down at the hymn book. When the hymn book is opened and the song spreads through the room, it can be an advantage to be well-rested—at least it minimizes the risk of falling asleep. It is almost impossible not to yawn or think about what to eat for dinner during the hymn. Older hymns at a slow pace do not exactly provide energy and joy for life. What do I know about others' thoughts, but mine at least go in the direction that the song is sung in such a high pitch that it is better not to sing along, as it is almost impossible to follow the tone. The few children sitting in the hall twist and turn—it seems like they are bored.

Perhaps it is time for the Norwegian church to follow the cultural development of the rest of society, apart from the fact that they have managed to change the collection to a VIPPS poster to collect the coins. If they had followed up on cultural development in other ways than this, perhaps the churches would have been packed on Sundays. Personally, I would have liked a more pedagogical presentation of the service. I believe that there are many important messages and wise thoughts in the Christian faith that would do us good, and it would probably be more attractive to people with different speakers who could share about life and experiences together with the priest so that the message really reaches us ordinary people.

But what do I know? I am in prison for the first time in my life, and I am indescribably happy to be able to attend the Sunday service. I have met a rather colorful community in prison society, and perhaps we have something to learn from our new compatriots, who call each other brother and sister—those who cook together and are not afraid to talk to each other when they meet, regardless of people and colors. It stands in stark contrast to the stodgy church coffee after the sermon on a Sunday morning.

Nevertheless, there is something different about the Norwegian church on holidays. In the middle of the sermon, the priest tells all the children, who have been twisting and turning for a long time, that they can participate in a drawing workshop at the back of the room. The parents jump up with their small children, who proudly trip off to the church's drawing workshop. And in the midst of it all, three beautiful girls come and sing opera while a woman plays her cello. The only thing I think when I hear this is that this is beautiful. Tears run down my cheeks, and the only thing I hope for is that it never ends. It is, at the very least, a strong contrast to the prison life I will soon return to.

What if our dear state church could do more with the regular services? It must be possible to liven things up a bit—to create some space and life. Replace the hymns with elements of rap, rock, and pop. Perhaps people would hum on their way home in the car after the Sunday sermon. Perhaps it would make people so engaged that they spread the wise message further because they remembered the content for more than an hour after the service. The best-case scenario? The churches could be packed on Sundays again.