A new church opened in our neighborhood (Kuokkala) last Sunday. It is visually stunning from the outside and the photos of the inside in the newspaper intrigued me even more. We have heard this is the first new church building built in Finland for decades (I'll try to get more accurate information on that). Not surprising for a country where something like 80% of the population belong to the church but only 4% attend. In Finland this goes without saying, but most of you readers are not in Finland so I'll tell you this is a Lutheran church. It is nearly the only brand in Finland and it is the national church which can levy a 1% tax from its members.
Knowing I would understand hardly a word that was spoken, I went to the service this morning anyway. It was full to over-flowing with people of all ages. Spirits seemed high, as you would guess on the second Sunday in a new building. Perhaps a service that is mostly ritual, prayer and music is just the sort that can still be fulfilling despite a language barrier. I was already thinking that words wouldn't be all that important to me after a year and a half of 'un-programed' (silent) Quaker worship. Still, I was surprised to find myself teary-eyed in this service like I was for the first few months with the Quakers. Something in me has been hibernating since we last attended Meeting in mid December. Going to church was like the sun coming out and starting to warm up the ground.
It was the music, in part. The music drives the service. It tells you when to stand and when to sit, it bookends and weaves through the prayers, it gives emotion to the offering and communion. The music director is full of fabulous energy and made great, non-traditional musical selections. I knew right away that I wanted to join that choir and sing with that director. I spoke to her afterward and she enthusiastically welcomed me to sing with them, which I'll start doing in a couple weeks. She said they mostly sing from a song-book she published herself. The title, she said, translates roughly as "Singing for People Who Can't Sing." I love that attitude. And she had not one bit of hesitation about me not speaking Finnish.
More than the music, though, I think it was simply being in church. This went through my mind while walking home: we may not share the same beliefs, but we share a belief in church. I'm glad I can't really understand what is being said. I'm not sure I could sit through 90min of Lutheran theology every week. But to share in the ritual of going to church, of gathering with others in a worshipful attitude, this I love.
Now the pictures.
The preacher's eye view.
The parishioner's view. The whole interior is wood and cement with a bit of copper here and there. The chairs are the same pale birch as the walls and lattice ceiling with seats covered in cream/grey wool felt. If you look closely at the bubbles at the front you can see a few metallic outlines of christian symbols (a big Jesus, dove, wine chalice, and some others).
Outside back. The brown stuff that looks like old wood is copper. Imagine it green some day. And the black shingles are slate.
Front.
Bell tower (and a
really big pile of snow).
Looking down the whole length of the building, from the river to the entrance. 
Chairs made from birth trees and reindeer hides. Much of the building uses these and other indigenous building materials. 
We meet a polar bear,
... explore the inside of an ice chamber ...
... see a very old sled...
... hug a brown bear ...
... see some arctic fish ...
... and Kalee and Charles make an important proclamation. 
There must be a traditional story about these geese and the little charter who is leading them, but we didn't hear it. 
We ended the day at a great restaurant at a mall next to our hotel and Kalee had perhaps her favorite moment of the whole trip - a free bouncer in the mall. 
